Arthur felt ill and much fatigued when he retired to rest, and was
restless and disturbed with fever throughout the night. He had
overtasked his delicate frame, yet scarce recovered from the effects of
recent suffering, and he arose in the morning with a feeling of
prostration that he could with difficulty overcome. However, he
refreshed himself with a cup of tea, and prepared to call upon Miss
Ayleff. It was but seven o'clock, a somewhat early hour for a morning
visit, but the occasion was one for little ceremony. As he was on the
point of leaving his room, there was a peremptory knock at the door,
and, upon his invitation to walk in, a stranger entered. It was a
gentlemanly personage, with a searching eye and a calm and quiet manner.
Arthur was vexed to be delayed, but received the intruder with a civil
inclination of the head, somewhat surprised, however, that no card had
been sent to give him intimation of the visit.
"Are you Mr. Arthur Wayne?" inquired the stranger.
"I am he," replied Arthur. "Be seated, sir."
"I thank you. My name is ----. I am a deputy United States marshal of
this district."
Arthur bowed, and awaited a further statement of the purpose of his
visit.
"You have lately arrived from Virginia, I understand?"
"A few days since, sir--from a brief sojourn in the vicinity of
Richmond."
"And yesterday received a communication from that quarter?"
"I did. A letter from an intimate acquaintance."
"My office will excuse me from an imputation of inquisitiveness. May I
see that letter?"
"Excuse me, sir. Its contents are of a private and delicate nature, and
intended only for my own perusal."
"It is because its contents are of that nature that I am constrained to
ask you for it. Pardon me, Mr. Wayne; but to be brief and frank you, I
must either receive that communication by your good will, or call in my
officers, and institute a search. I am sure you will not make my duty
more unpleasant than necessary."
Arthur paused awhile. He was conscious that it would be impossible for
him to avoid complying with the marshal's request, and yet it was most
annoying to be obliged to make a third party cognizant of the facts
contained in Beverly's epistle.
"I have no desire to oppose you in the performance of your functions,"
he finally replied, "but really there are very particular reasons why
the contents of this letter should not be made public."
A very faint indication of a smile passed over the marshal's serious
face; Arthur did not observe it, but continued:
"I will hand you the letter, for I perceive there has been some mistake
and misapprehension which of course it is your duty to clear up. But you
must promise me that, when your perusal of it shall have satisfied you
that its nature is strictly private, and not offensive to the law, you
will return it me and preserve an inviolable secrecy as to its
contents."
"When I shall be satisfied on that score, I will do as you desire."
Arthur handed him the letter, somewhat to the other's surprise, for he
had certainly been watching for an attempt at its destruction, or at
least was prepared for prevarication and stratagem. He took the paper
from its envelope and read it carefully. It was in the following words:
Richmond, _May_ --, 1861.
Dear Arthur: This will be handed to you by a sure hand. Communicate
freely with the bearer--he can be trusted. The arms can be safely
shipped as he represents, and you will therefore send them on at
once. Your last communication was of great service to the cause,
and, although I would be glad to have you with us, the President
thinks you are too valuable, for the present, where you are. When
you come, the commission will be ready for you. Yours truly,
Beverly Weems, Capt. C.S.A.
"Are you satisfied?" inquired Arthur, after the marshal had silently
concluded his examination of the document.
"Perfectly satisfied," replied the other, placing the letter in his
pocket. "Mr. Wayne, it is my duty to arrest you."
"Arrest me!"
"In the name of the United States."
"For what offence?"
"Treason."
Arthur remained for a while silent with astonishment. At last, as the
marshal arose and took his hat, he said:
"I cannot conceive what act or word of mine can be construed as
treasonable. There is some mistake, surely; I am a quiet man, a stranger
in the city, and have conversed with but one or two persons since my
arrival. Explain to me, if you please, the particular nature of the
charge against me."
"It is not my province, at this moment, to do so, Mr. Wayne. It is
sufficient that, upon information lodged with me last evening, and
forwarded to Washington by telegraph, I received from the Secretary of
War orders for your immediate arrest, should I find the information
true. I have found it true, and I arrest you."
"Surely, nothing in that letter can be so misconstrued as to implicate
me."
"Mr. Wayne, this prevarication is as useless as it is unseemly. You
_know_ that the letter is sufficient warrant for my proceeding. My
carriage is at the door. I trust you will accompany me without further
delay."
"Sir, I was about to proceed, when you entered, upon an errand that
involves the safety and happiness of the young lady mentioned in that
letter. The letter itself will inform you of the circumstance, and I
assure you, events are in progress that require my immediate action. You
will at least allow me to visit the party?"
The marshal looked at him with surprise.
"What party?"
"The lady of whom my friend makes mention."
"I do not understand you. I can only conceive that, for some purpose of
your own, you are anxious to gain time. I must request you to accompany
me at once to the carriage."
"You will permit me at least to send a, letter--a word--a warning?"
"That your accomplice may receive information? Assuredly not."
"Be yourself the messenger--or send"----
"This subterfuge is idle." He opened the door and stood beside it. "I
must request your company to the carriage."
Arthur's cheek flushed for a moment with anger.
"This severity," he said, "is ridiculous and unjust. I tell you, you and
those for whom you act will be accountable for a great crime--for
innocence betrayed--for a young life made desolate--for perhaps a
dishonored grave. I plead not for myself, but for one helpless and pure,
who at this hour may be the victim of a villain's plot. In the name of
humanity, I entreat you give me but time to avert the calamity, and I
will follow you without remonstrance. Go with me yourself. Be present at
the interview. Of what consequence to you will be an hour's delay?"
"It may be of much consequence to those who are in league with you. I
cannot grant your request. You must come with me, sir, or I shall be
obliged to call for assistance," and he drew a pair of handcuffs from
his pocket.
Arthur perceived that further argument or entreaty would be of no avail.
He was much agitated and distressed beyond measure at the possible
misfortune to Miranda, which, by this untimely arrest, he was powerless
to avert. Knowing nothing of the true contents of the letter which
Philip had substituted for the one received from Beverly, he could not
imagine an excuse for the marshal's inflexibility. He was quite ill,
too, and what with fever and agitation, his brain was in a whirl. He
leaned against the chair, faint and dispirited. The painful cough, the
harbinger of that fatal malady which had already brought a sister to an
early grave, oppressed him, and the hectic glowed upon his pale cheeks.
The marshal approached him, and laid his hand gently on his shoulder.
"You seem ill," he said; "I am sorry to be harsh with you, but I must do
my duty. They will make you as comfortable as possible at the fort. But
you must come."
Arthur followed him mechanically, and like one in a dream. They stepped
into the carriage and were driven rapidly away; but Arthur, as he
leaned back exhausted in his seat, murmured sorrowfully:
"And poor little Mary, too! Who will befriend her now?"