THE DISCOVERY
From the moment Captain Welford had discovered the plot of the prisoners
to coöperate with Kilpatrick and Dahlgren he was morally sure that Miss
Van Lew had been their messenger. He was equally sure that Socola had
been one of her accomplices.
On the day of the announcement of his powder plant to the prisoners he
set a guard to watch the house on Church Hill, and report to him the
moment "Crazy Bet" should emerge.
Within two hours he received the message that she was on her way down
town with her market basket swinging on her arm. Dick knew that this
woman could not recognize him personally. He was only distantly related
to the Welfords of Richmond.
Miss Van Lew was in a nervous agony to deliver her dispatch to
Kilpatrick, warning him that the purpose of the raid had been discovered
and that he must act with the utmost caution. She had no scout at hand
and Kilpatrick's was expected every moment at her rendezvous near the
market.
Dick turned the corner, circled a block, and met her. She was childishly
swinging the basket on her arm and humming a song. She smiled vacantly
into his face. He caught the look of shrewd intelligence and saw through
her masquerade. A single word from her lips now would send her to the
gallows and certainly lead to Socola's arrest.
The Captain was certain that she carried dispatches on her person at
that moment. If he could only induce her to drop them, the trick would
be turned.
He turned, retraced his steps, overtook her and whispered as he passed:
"Your trusted messenger--"
She paid no attention. There was not the slightest recognition--no
surprise--no inquiry. Her thin face was a mask of death.
Was this man Kilpatrick's scout? Or was he a Secret Service man on her
trail? The questions seethed through her excited soul. Her life hung on
the answer. It was a question of judgment of character and personality.
The man was a stranger. But the need was terrible. Should she take the
chance?
She quickened her pace and passed Dick.
Again she heard him whisper:
"Your messenger is here. I am going through to-night."
In her hand clasped tight was her dispatch torn into strips and each
strip rolled into a tiny ball. Should she commence to drop them one by
one?
Perplexed, she stopped and glanced back suddenly into Dick's face. Her
decision was instantaneous. The subtle sixth sense had revealed in a
flash of his eager eyes her mortal danger. She turned into a side street
and hurried home.
The Captain was again baffled by a woman's wit. His disappointment was
keen. He had hoped to prove his accusation to Jennie Barton before the
sun set. She had ceased to fight his suspicions of Socola. His name was
not mentioned. She was watching her lover with more desperate
earnestness even than he.
The Captain had failed to entrap the wily little woman with her market
basket, but through her he struck the trail of the big quarry he had
sought for two years. Socola was imperiled by a woman's sentimental
whim--this woman with nerves of steel and a heart whose very throb she
could control by an indomitable will.
Heartsick over her failure to get through the lines her warning to
Kilpatrick, she had felt the responsibility of young Dahlgren's tragic
death. Woman-like she determined, at the risk of her life and the life
of every man she knew, to send the body of this boy back to his father
in the North.
In vain Socola pleaded against this mad undertaking.
The woman's soul had been roused by the pathetic figure of the daring
young raider whose crutches were found strapped to his saddle. He had
lost a leg but a few months before.
He had been buried at the cross-roads where he fell--the roads from
Stevensville and Mantua Ferry. In pity for the sorrow of his
distinguished father Davis had ordered the body disinterred and brought
into Richmond. It was buried at night in a spot unknown to anyone save
the Confederate authorities. Feeling had run so high on the discovery of
the purpose of the raiders to burn the city that the Confederate
President feared some shocking indignity might be offered the body.
The night Miss Van Lew selected for her enterprise was cold and dark and
the rain fell in dismal, continuous drizzle. The grave had been
discovered by a negro who saw the soldiers bury the body. It was
identified by the missing right leg.
The work was done without interruption or discovery.
Socola placed the body in Rowley's wagon which was filled with young
peach trees concealing the casket. The pickets would be deceived by the
simple device. Should one of them thrust his bayonet into the depths of
those young trees more than one neck would pay the penalty. But they
wouldn't. He was sure of it.
At the picket post Rowley sat in stolid indifference while he heard the
order to search his wagon. He engaged the guard in conversation. Wagons
entered and passed and still he talked lazily to his chosen friend.
The Lieutenant looked from his tent and yelled at last:
"What 'ell's the matter with you--search that man and let him go--"
"It would be a pity to tear up all those fruit trees!" the guard said
with a yawn.
"I didn't think you'd bother 'em," Rowley answered indifferently, "but I
know a soldier's duty--"
Another wagon dashed up in a hurry. The guard examined him and he passed
on.
Again the Lieutenant called:
"Search that man and let him go!"
Rowley's face was a mask of lazy indifference.
The guard glanced at him and spoke in low tones:
"Your face is guarantee enough, partner--go on--"
Socola flanked the picket and joined Rowley. Near Hungary, on the farm
of Orrick the German, a grave was hurriedly dug and the casket placed in
it. The women helped to heap the dirt in and plant over it one of the
peach trees.
Three days later in response to a pitiful appeal from Dahlgren's father,
Davis ordered the boy's body sent to Washington. The grave had been
robbed. The sensation this created was second only to the raid itself.
It was only too evident to the secret service of the Confederate
Government that an organization of Federal spies honeycombed the city.
The most desperate and determined efforts were put forth to unearth
these conspirators.
Captain Welford had made the discovery that the conspirators who had
stolen Dahlgren's body had cut his curling blond hair and dispatched it
to Washington. The bearer of this dispatch was a negro. He had been
thoroughly searched, but no incriminating papers were found. The Captain
had removed a lock of this peculiarly beautiful hair and allowed the
messenger of love to go on his way determined to follow him on his
return to Richmond and locate his accomplices.
Dick's report of this affair to Jennie had started a train of ideas
which again centered her suspicions on Socola. The night this body had
been stolen she had sent for her lover in a fit of depression. The rain
was pouring in cold, drizzling monotony. Her loneliness had become
unbearable.
He was not at home and could not be found. Alarmed and still more
depressed she sent her messenger three times. The last call he made was
long past midnight.
Her suspicion of his connection with the service of the enemy had become
unendurable. She had not seen or heard from him since the effort to find
him that night. He was at his desk at work as usual next morning.
She wrote him a note and begged that he call at once. He came within
half an hour, a wistful smile lighting his face as he extended his hand:
"I am forgiven for having been born abroad?"
"I have sent for you--"
"I've waited long."
"It's not the first time I've asked you to call," she cried in strained
tones.
"No?"
She held his gaze with steady intensity.
"I sent for you the night young Dahlgren's body was stolen--"
"Really?"
"It was raining. I was horribly depressed. I couldn't endure the
strain. I meant to surrender utterly and trust you--"
"I didn't get your message--"
"I know that you didn't--where were you?"
"Engaged on important business for the Government--"
"What Government?"
"How can you ask such a question?"
"I do ask it. I sent for you three times--the third time after midnight.
It wasn't very modest, perhaps, I was so miserable I didn't care. I just
wanted to put my arms around your neck and tell you to love me
always--that nothing else mattered--"
"Nothing else does matter, dearest--"
"Yes--it does. It matters whether you have used me to betray my people.
Where were you at twelve o'clock night before last?"
"I'd rather not tell you--"
"I demand it--"
A quizzical smile played about Socola's handsome mouth as he faced her
frankly.
"I was in a gambling establishment--"
"Whose?"
"Johnnie Worsham's--"
"What were you doing there? You neither drink nor gamble."
Again the dark face smiled.
"I was asked by my Chief to report on the habits of every man in my
Department--particularly to report every man who frequents the gambling
hells of Richmond--"
Jennie watched him nervously, her hands trembling.
"It's possible of course--"
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she threw herself into his
arms.
And then it happened--the little thing, trivial and insignificant,
that makes and unmakes life.
For a long while no words were spoken. With gentle touch he soothed her
trembling body, bending to kiss the waves of rich brown hair.
She pushed him at arm's length at last and looked up smiling.
"I can't help it--I love you!"
"When will you learn that we must trust where we love--"
He stopped suddenly. Her brown eyes were fixed with terror on a single
strand of curling blond hair caught on the button of his waistcoat.
"What is it?" he asked in alarm.
She drew the hair from his coat carefully and held it to the light in
silence.
"You can't be jealous?"
She looked at him curiously.
"Yes. I have a rival--"
"A rival?"
Her eyes pierced him.
"Your love for the Union! I've suspected you before. You've evaded my
questions. Our love has been so big and sweet a thing that you have
always stammered and hesitated to tell me a deliberate lie. It's not
necessary now. I know. Ulrich Dahlgren is the age of my brother Billy.
They used to play together in Washington at Commodore Dahlgren's home
and at ours. He had the most peculiarly beautiful blond hair I ever saw
on a man. I'd know it anywhere on earth. That strand is his, poor boy!
Besides, Dick Welford captured your messenger with that pathetic little
bundle on his way to Washington--"
Socola started in spite of his desperate effort at self-control and was
about to speak when Jennie lifted her hand.
"Don't, please. It's useless to quibble and argue with me longer. We
face each other with souls bare. I don't ask you why you have deceived
me. Your business as a Federal spy is to deceive the enemy--"
"You are not my enemy," he interrupted in a sudden burst of passion.
"You are my mate! You are mine by all the laws of God and nature. I love
you. I worship you. We are _not_ enemies. We never have been--we never
shall be. With the last breath I breathe your name shall be on my
lips--"
"You may speak your last word soon--"
"What do you mean?"
"I am going to surrender you to the authorities--"
"And you have just been sobbing in my arms--the man you have sworn to
love forever?"
"It's the only atonement I can make. Through you I have betrayed my
country and my people. I would gladly die in your place. The hard thing
will be to do my duty and give you up to the death you have earned."
"You can deliver me to execution?"
"Yes--" was the firm answer. "Listen to this--"
She seized a copy of the morning paper.
"Colonel Dahlgren's instructions to his men. This document was found on
his person when shot. There is no question of its genuineness--"
She paused and read in cold hard tones:
"Guides, pioneers (with oakum, turpentine and torpedoes), signal
officer, quarter master, commissary, scouts, and picket men in rebel
uniform--remain on the north bank and move down with the force on the
south bank. If communications can be kept up without giving an alarm
it must be done. Everything depends upon a surprise, and no one must
be allowed to pass ahead of this column. All mills must be burned and
the canal destroyed. Keep the force on the southern side posted of
any important movement of the enemy, and in case of danger some of
the scouts must swim the river and bring us information. We must try
to secure the bridge to the city (one mile below Belle Isle) and
release the prisoners at the same time. If we do not succeed they
must then dash down, and we will try to carry the bridge from each
side. The bridges once secured, and the prisoners loosed and over the
river, the bridges will be secured and the city destroyed--"
Jennie paused and lifted her eyes burning with feverish light.
"Merciful God! How? With oakum and turpentine. A city of one hundred
thousand inhabitants, under the cover of darkness--men, women and
children, the aged, the poor, the helpless!"
Socola made no answer. A thoughtful dreamy look masked his handsome
features.
Jennie read the next sentence from the Dahlgren paper in high quivering
tones:
"The men must be kept together and well in hand, and once in the
city, it must be destroyed and _Jeff Davis and his Cabinet_ killed--"
The girl paused and fixed her gaze on Socola.
"The man who planned that raid came with the willful and deliberate
murder of unarmed men in his soul. The man who helped him inside is
equally guilty of his crime--"
She resumed her reading without waiting for reply.
"Prisoners will go along with combustible material. The officer must
use his discretion about the time of assisting us. Pioneers must be
prepared to construct a bridge or destroy one. They must have plenty
of oakum and turpentine for burning, which will be rolled in soaked
balls, and given to the men to burn when we get into the city--"
Socola lifted his hand.
"Please, dear--these instructions are not mine. I do not excuse or
palliate them. The daring youngster who conceived this paid the penalty
with his life. It's all that any of us can give for his country. There's
something that interests me now far more than this sensation--far more
than the mere fact that my true business here has been discovered by you
and my life forfeited to your Government--"
"And that is?"
"That the woman I love can deliver me to death--"
"You doubt it?"
"I had not believed it possible."
"I'll show you."
Jennie stepped to the door and pulled the old-fashioned bell-cord.
A servant appeared.
In strained tones the girl said:
"Go to Captain Welford's office and ask him to come here immediately
with two soldiers--"
"Yassam--"
The negro bowed and hurried from the house, and Jennie sat down in
silence beside the door.
Socola confronted her, his hands gripped in nervous agony behind his
back, his slender figure erect, his breath coming in deep excited
draughts.
"You think that I'll submit to my fate without a fight?"
"You've got to submit. Your escape from Richmond is a physical
impossibility--"
He searched the depths of her heart.
"I was not thinking of my body just then. I have no desire to live if
you can hand me to my executioner--"
He paused and a sob came from the girl's distracted soul.
He moved a step closer.
"I'm not afraid to die--you must know that--I'm not a coward--"
"No. I couldn't have loved a coward!"
"The thing I can't endure is that you, the woman to whom I have
surrendered my soul, should judge me worthy of death. Come, my own, this
is madness. We must see each other as God sees now. You must realize
that only the highest and noblest motive could have sent a man of my
character and training on such a mission. We differ in our political
views for the moment--even as you differ from the older brother whom you
love and respect--"
"I am not responsible for my brother's acts. I am for yours--"
"Nonsense, dear heart. My work was ordained of God from the beginning.
It was fate. Nothing could have stopped me. I came under a mighty
impulse of love for my country--bigger than the North or the South. God
sent me. You have helped me. But if you had not I would still have
succeeded. Can't you forget for the moment the details of this
blood-stained struggle--the maimed lad with his crutches strapped to his
saddle, lost in the black storm night in the country of his enemies and
shot to pieces--the mad scheme his impulsive brain had dreamed of wiping
your Capital from the earth and leading fifteen thousand shouting
prisoners back into freedom and life--surely he paid for his madness.
Forget that I have deceived you, and see the vision of which I dream--a
purified and redeemed Nation--united forever--no North, no South--no
East, no West--the inheritance of our children and all the children of
the world's oppressed! I am fighting for you and yours as well as my
own. The South is mine. I love its beautiful mountains and plains--its
rivers and shining seas--Oh, my love, can't you see this divine vision
of the future? The Union must be saved. The stars in their courses
fight its battles. Nothing is surer in the calendar of time than that
the day is swiftly coming when the old flag your fathers first flung to
the breeze will be again lifted from your Capitol building. You can't
put me out of your life as a criminal worthy of death! I won't have it.
I am yours and you are mine. I am not pleading for my life. I'm pleading
for something bigger and sweeter than life. I'm pleading for my love. I
can laugh at death. I can't endure that you put me out of your heart--"
Jennie rose with determination, walked to the window and laughed
hysterically.
"Well, I'm going to put you out. Captain Welford and his men are coming.
They've just turned the corner!"
The man's figure slowly straightened, and his eyes closed in
resignation.
"Then it's God's will and my work is done."
With a sudden cry Jennie threw herself in his arms.
"Forgive me, dear Lord. I can't do this hideous thing! It's my duly, but
I can't. My darling--my own! You shall not die. I was mad. Forgive me!
Forgive me! My own--"
"Halt!"
The sharp command of the Captain rang outside the door.
"Get into this room--quick--" the girl cried, pushing Socola into the
adjoining room and slamming the door as Dick entered the hall.
She faced the Captain with a smile.
"It's all right, now, Dick. I thought I had discovered an important
secret. It was a mistake--"
The Captain smiled.
"You don't mind my looking about the house?"
"_Searching_ the house?"
"Just the lower floor?"
"I do mind it. How dare you suggest such a thing, sir--"
"Because I've made a guess at the truth. You discovered important
evidence incriminating Socola. Your first impulse was to do your
duty--you weakened at the last moment--"
"Absurd!" she gasped.
"I happened to hear a door slam as I entered. I'll have to look around a
little."
He started to the door behind which Socola had taken refuge. Jennie
confronted him.
"You can't go in there--"
"It's no use, Jennie--I'm going to search that room--the whole house if
necessary."
"Why?"
"I know that Socola is here--"
"And if he is?"
"I'll arrest him--"
"On what charge?"
"He is a Federal spy and you know it--"
"You can't prove it."
"I've found the evidence. I have searched his rooms--"
"Searched his _rooms_?"
"Your servant told me that he was here. I leaped to a conclusion, forced
his door and found this--"
He thrust a well-thumbed copy of the cipher code of the Federal Secret
Service into her hand.
"You--you--can't execute him, Dick," Jennie sobbed.
"I will."
"You can't. I love him. He can do no more harm here."
"He's done enough. His life belongs to the South--"
She placed her trembling hand on his arm.
"You are sure that deep down in your heart there's not another motive?"
"No matter how many motives--one is enough. I have the evidence on which
to send him to the gallows--"
The girl's head drooped.
"And I gave it to you--God have mercy!"
The tears began to stream down her checks. Dick moved uneasily and
looked the other way.
"I've got to do it," he repeated stubbornly.
Her voice was the merest whisper when she spoke.
"You're not going to arrest him, Dick. He will leave Richmond never to
enter the South again. I'll pledge my life on his promise. His death can
do us no good. It can do you no good--I--I--couldn't live and know
that I had killed the man I love--"
"You haven't killed him. He has forfeited his life a thousand times in
his work as a spy."
"I sent for you. I caused his betrayal. I shall be responsible if he
dies--"
Again the little head drooped in pitiful suffering. She lifted it at
last with a smile.
"Dick, you're too big and generous for low revenge. You hate this man.
But you love me. I know that. I'm proud and grateful for it. I appeal to
the best that's in you. Save my life and his--"
"You couldn't live if he should die, Jennie?" the man asked tenderly.
"Not if he should die in this way--"
The Captain struggled and hesitated.
Again her hand touched his arm.
"I ask the big divine thing of you, Dick?"
"It's hard. I've won and you take my triumph from me. For two years I've
given body and soul to the task of unmasking this man."
"I'm asking his life--and mine--" the pleading voice repeated.
"I'll give him up on one condition--"
"What?"
The Captain held her gaze in silence a moment.
"That you send him back to the North and put him out of your life
forever!"
Jennie laughed softly through her tears.
"You big, generous, foolish boy--you might have left that to me--"
"All right," he hastened to agree. "I'll leave it to you. Forgive me. I
can't deny you anything--"
"You're a glorious lover, Dick!" she cried tenderly. "Why didn't I love
you?"
"I don't know, honey," he replied chokingly. "We just love because we
must--there's no rhyme or reason to it--"
He paused and laughed.
"Well, it's all over now, Jennie. I've given him back to you--good-by--"
She grasped his hand and held it firmly.
"Don't you dare say good-by to me, sir--you've got to love me, too--as
long as I live--my first sweetheart--brave, generous, kind--"
She drew his blond head low and kissed him.
He looked at her through dimmed eyes and slowly said:
"That makes life worth living, Jennie."
He turned and quickly left the house.
She heard his low orders to his men and watched them pass up the street
with their rifles on their shoulders.
She opened the door and Socola entered, his face deathlike in its
pallor.
"Why did he stay so long?"
"He has searched your room and found your cipher code--"
"And you have saved my life?"
"It was I who put it in peril--"
"No--I gave my life in willing sacrifice when the war began--"
"You are to leave," Jennie went on evenly--"leave at once--"
"Of course--"
"And give me your solemn parole--never again during this war to fight
the South--"
"It is your right to demand it. I agree."
She gently took his hand.
"I know that I can trust you now--" She paused and looked wistfully into
his face. "One last long look into your dear eyes--"
"Not the last--"
"One last kiss--"
She drew his lips down to hers.
"One last moment in your arms." She clung to him desperately and freed
herself with quick resolution.
"And now you must go--from Richmond--from the South and out of my life
forever--"
"You can't mean this!" he protested bitterly.
"I do," was the firm answer. "Good-by."
He pressed her hand and shook his head.
"I refuse to say it--"
"You must."
"No--"
"It is the end--"
"It is only the beginning."
With a look of tenderness he left her standing in the doorway, the
hunger of eternity in her brown eyes.