THE TURNING POINT
Doctor Ward's fears for his patient's condition were well founded. The
shock of his interview with Baker in his weakened condition brought on
an attack of brain fever, and for days Goddard's life hung in the
balance. An experienced Sister of Mercy replaced the young nurse from
the United States Sanitary Commission; and at Doctor Ward's earnest
request the provost marshal stationed a sentry at Goddard's door with
orders to admit no one to the sick room except by the doctor's express
permission. Anxious days followed, the doctor and the nurse grimly
contesting each step of the way as Goddard sank nearer and nearer the
Valley of the Shadow.
Ward bent over the bed, and anxiously scanned Goddard's bloodless face;
then rose and tiptoed softly about the room. He was weary from his long
vigil by the bedside; it was a relief to stretch his cramped limbs
while he waited for the crisis to pass.
"Have you heard anything more about the arrangements for Miss Newton's
trial?" asked Sister Angelica softly.
"No, except that the hearing has been again postponed."
"I cannot believe the charges against Miss Newton," murmured the
sister. "I have seen her frequently at the hospitals when she came to
read to the convalescents and bring them pickles."
"Pickles?"
"Yes, sir. The soldiers prefer them to many luxuries. I have seen Miss
Newton do many kind and generous acts. It is incredible that she should
have planned and carried out so deliberate and cold-blooded a murder."
"Judge Holt asked me to-day--" The doctor's hurried whisper was
interrupted by a sound from the bed, and he hurried to his patient.
Goddard lay on his back, gazing with unseeing eyes at the ceiling, one
thin arm tossed across the pillow. "Nancy," he whispered; "Nancy!"
"He is always calling her name," murmured Sister Angelica. "Poor
fellow--poor girl!"
"Aye," muttered Ward under his breath. "God help them both--one here
and one in prison!"
"Nancy." Goddard's weak voice seemed to gain in strength. "Don't cry,
dear. I am coming." A feeble smile lighted his face; he turned
slightly, his eyes closed, and, with a sigh like a tired child, he
slept.
Ward's hand sought Goddard's pulse. He touched the white cheek. The
skin was cool and moist. Turning to the nurse, his eyes dancing with
delight, he whispered: "The fever is broken. At last Major Goddard is
sleeping naturally."
Sister Angelica's fervid "Thank God!" was lost in the folds of the sash
curtain as she pulled up the shade and let the daylight enter the sick
room.
* * * * *
The days passed on leaden feet for Nancy. The suspense and close
confinement told even on her splendid constitution, and she grew but a
shadow of her former self. The prison food was not inviting; only when
pangs of hunger forced her could she swallow the unappetizing
half-cooked meats and sour bread which were brought to her on a tin
plate by a slatternly negress.
Occasionally the superintendent sent her word of Robert Goddard's
condition, but that was all she heard from the outside world. The
negress, who tidied her room and brought her meals, had received orders
not to speak to the prisoner, and the soldiers on guard at the prison
were, with few exceptions, Germans, who did not understand or speak
much English. Sometimes Nancy actually ached to hear the sound of
friendly voices. The only break in the daily monotony was the
nine-o'clock inspection of prisoners, which occurred each morning, as
well as at night. Nancy spent most of her days standing near the window
and gazing with wistful eyes at the other prisoners, who were allowed
fresh-air exercise in the courtyard under the watchful eyes of the
sentries.
The horrors of the long, sleepless nights were added to by the presence
of rats, who scampered noisily back and forth across the bare floor.
Nancy had discovered one on her bed the second night of her
imprisonment, and her screams brought the guard on the double quick.
"Vat ess de drouble?" he demanded, dashing open the door. He leveled
his Springfield full at the girl, and she heard the click of the
hammer. Another soldier came in, carrying a lantern, and Nancy, huddled
in one corner of her cot, hastily drew the bedclothes about her.
"Rats. Look!" And she pointed to a gray body disappearing down a hole
in one of the corners of the room.
"Ah, Himmel! Dey ess all ober," remarked the guard stolidly, as he
lowered his rifle. "Dere ess no use to holler. We can do nuddings."
"Do you mean to say I have to lie here while those vile creatures run
over me?" exclaimed Nancy wrathfully.
"Ya."
"Go tell Superintendent Wood I wish to see him at once," imperiously.
"Nein," both soldiers spoke at once.
"And you call yourselves men!" ejaculated Nancy scornfully.
"We fight mit Siegel for de Union," retorted the sentry, retreating to
the hall, "and not mit rats." He shut the door and shot the bolt in
place. Nancy was once again in solitary confinement.
* * * * *
To Miss Metoaca and Senator Warren the days fled by all too quickly.
Try as they did, they could find no evidence, no clue that would
benefit Nancy, or prove another guilty of the crime she was charged
with. Secretary Stanton was deaf to all appeals that Nancy's captivity
be lightened, and that her aunt be permitted to see her.
"Treason must be, shall be, punished," he declared. "Miss Newton will
be given an opportunity to clear herself of the charges against her
before a military commission. Until then she must remain in solitary
confinement."
Miss Metoaca refused to be cast down by her rebuffs, and doggedly
persisted in her efforts to obtain Nancy's freedom. She took no part in
the city's mad rejoicing over the fall of Richmond; she was too sick at
heart over her niece's threatened fate.
On the afternoon of the eighth of April she was taking off her wraps in
her own room in a thoroughly discouraged frame of mind. She had just
called on Doctor Ward, who had courteously but firmly refused to allow
her to see Goddard.
"What is it, Jonas?" she demanded crossly, in answer to a timid knock
on her door.
"Mrs. Arnold an' Mrs. Bennett am down in de pawler, Miss Turkey." No
negro had ever been able to pronounce Miss Metoaca's name, and she had
been accustomed from childhood to being called "Miss Turkey" by her
domestics. "Dey done seed yo' come home, an' I'se jes' 'bliged ter show
dem in."
Miss Metoaca considered for a moment. Nancy had confided her suspicions
in regard to Mrs. Bennett to her aunt in February. Should she receive
her now? She had called repeatedly since Nancy's arrest, but Miss
Metoaca had always excused herself. This time she was inside the house,
perhaps already spying around. Miss Metoaca came to a sudden
resolution. "Tell the ladies I will be right down," she called to the
waiting servant, and, true to her words, she joined them without
further loss of time.
"My dear Miss Metoaca," began Mrs. Arnold pompously, but the look in
the spinster's red eyes went straight to her heart, and she threw her
arms impulsively about her in a warm embrace without completing her
sentence.
"It is good of you to come," said Miss Metoaca, touched by Mrs.
Arnold's greeting. "I--I--was feeling very downhearted."
"And no wonder," purred Mrs. Bennett, wiping her eyes with a dainty
handkerchief. "You have borne a great deal, Miss Metoaca, and have our
deepest sympathy."
"You crocodile," thought the spinster, as she said aloud: "It is cruel,
cruel! Nancy never committed that crime, _never_."
Mrs. Arnold and her friend exchanged doubtful glances.
"Have you been allowed to see your niece?" inquired the latter, as Mrs.
Arnold seemed at a loss for words.
"No; and I am convinced the food and clothes I send her never get past
the inspector's office."
"Have you appealed to the President?"
"Have I?" Miss Metoaca's tone was eloquent. "I have tormented that poor
man nearly to death."
"Did he give you no comfort?" asked Mrs. Arnold. "Usually President
Lincoln is only too anxious to sign pardons."
"He doesn't seem to be in this instance," dryly. "He insists that an
open trial will be the best thing for Nancy. 'Murder is evil,' he said;
'evil cannot stand discussion. The more the mystery is discussed the
quicker you will discover clues leading to the murderer. What kills the
skunk is the publicity it gives itself. What a skunk wants to do is to
keep snug under the barn--in the daytime--when men are around with
shotguns.'"
"Is Sam working for you now?" inquired Mrs. Arnold, after a slight
pause.
"Sam!" echoed Miss Metoaca, her surprise causing her to raise her
voice.
Seeing Mrs. Arnold was flurried by the apparent effect of her innocent
remark on Miss Metoaca, Mrs. Bennett answered for her.
"My husband and I met Nancy conversing with the negro Sam, about six
o'clock on the afternoon that Captain Lloyd--ah--died." Miss Metoaca
was intently studying the speaker's face, but she could learn nothing
from the innocent blue eyes raised so confidingly to hers. "Nancy told
us then that Sam, who has often waited on me, was anxious to secure a
place in a private family...."
"And so," broke in Mrs. Arnold, "as I am in need of another
man-servant, I came to inquire about Sam."
"Now that is too bad," exclaimed Miss Metoaca, rallying her wits to her
aid. "I wish I had known before that you needed a servant, Mrs. Arnold.
Sam came to me and asked me to find him a place, so I sent him over to
my cousin, Mrs. Hillen, in Baltimore, as she wanted a good butler." Her
tranquil manner effectually covered a rapidly beating heart. How much
did Mrs. Bennett know about Sam, and where had she gained her
information?
"Great heavens! What is that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, startled out of
her usual calm as a long-drawn howl came from the back of the house.
"It's Misery. Poor dog! He is grieving his heart out for Nancy. I
suspect Jonas has forgotten and shut him in the pantry." Miss Metoaca
made a motion to rise.
"Sit still, dear." Mrs. Bennett detained her by a gesture. "I will go
and release Misery." And before the perturbed spinster could stop her
she had tripped gracefully out of the room.
"Here is Senator Warren," remarked Mrs. Arnold, catching sight of him
through the window as he came up the steps; and Miss Metoaca, all else
forgotten, hastened to the front door.
As Warren greeted her, the shrill voices of newsboys shouting "Extra!"
"Extra!" sounded down the street, and, with a muttered word of apology,
he waited on the steps until a newsboy saw his beckoning hand and
rushed up with the paper. Miss Metoaca and Mrs. Arnold, who had joined
her, read the flaring headlines over Warren's shoulder:
STIRRING NEWS FROM THE FRONT!
LEE OVERWHELMED!
GRANT CRUSHING HIM ON THE EAST!!
SHERIDAN ON THE WEST!!!
Warren raised his hat reverently. "The end is in sight! Thank God!
Thank God!"
"Oh, I _do_ thank God! This cruel war!" Miss Metoaca choked, and turned
to Mrs. Arnold, who was weeping softly. "Let us go inside." And she led
the way into the hall, where Warren detained her.
"I only came to tell you that the military commission meets day after
to-morrow, the tenth, to try Nancy."
Miss Metoaca drew a long breath. "Anything is better than this
suspense."
Warren nodded understandingly. "I am to see Nancy to-morrow. The judge
advocate has furnished me with a copy of the charges. Did Ward allow
you to talk with Goddard?"
"No."
"How strange!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, who had rejoined them, dropping
the extra which she and Mrs. Arnold were busy reading. "I hear the
major is almost well again. Do you know," warming to the subject, "I
consider Doctor Ward is acting very mysteriously in regard to Major
Goddard's condition."
"Indeed? In what way, Mrs. Bennett?" Warren pricked up his ears.
"By his persistent refusals to let anyone into Major Goddard's sick
room. And I am not the only one who thinks so." She paused
impressively, then went on: "Colonel Baker told me that he was
convinced the last time he talked with Major Goddard that he had
regained his sight."
"Is that so?" Warren looked his disbelief. "I will inquire into it.
Good night, Miss Metoaca; I must be running along."
"And we have to go, too," declared Mrs. Arnold. "Don't be discouraged,
dear Miss Metoaca." And she gave the spinster an encouraging pat on her
shoulder.
"Don't allow your mind to dwell too much on your worries," advised Mrs.
Bennett soothingly, as she followed the senator down the steps.
Miss Metoaca nodded a smiling farewell, but when the door was safely
shut the smile faded, and instead her face looked pinched and drawn.
Deep in thought she hastened to the morning room, which was back of the
dining room, and sat down at her desk to scribble a line to her cousin,
Mrs. Hillen.
To a casual eye the desk was as she had left it two hours before. But
Miss Metoaca had a well-developed bump of order, the terror of her
servants, and nothing escaped her eagle eye. One glance showed her the
desk ornaments had been moved. Dropping her pen, Miss Metoaca opened
several of the drawers. One look was enough to show her that their
contents had been disturbed. Every paper was tossed and tumbled.
Feverishly Miss Metoaca went through the remaining drawers. Apparently
nothing had been removed. Just as she was drawing a long breath of
relief, her hand touched a note book concealed under a mass of papers
at the back of the bottom drawer. Pulling it out, Miss Metoaca found
that the book was one used by Nancy to keep the marketing accounts and
other memoranda. She turned the pages hastily--five sheets had been
torn out! The book fell unheeded on the floor, as Miss Metoaca bowed
her head in her trembling hands.