AL-CHAR iS 
 
A BROKEN 
 SWORD 
 
 A Tale of the Civil War 
 
 BY 
 
 GENERAL CHARLES KING 
 
 AUTHOR OF "COMRADES IN ARMS," "A KNIGHT OF COLUMBIA," 
 "AN APACHE PRINCESS," "A DAUGHTER OF THE SIOUX," 
 "THE MEDAL OF HONOR," "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE HOBART COMPANY 
 
 1905 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1905, 
 
 BY 
 THE HOBART COMPANY 
 
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 2 H j ..' o 
 
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CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. GOTHAM AT GRACE CHURCH .... 5 
 
 II. A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION 16 
 
 III. A REPRIMAND SPOILED 31 
 
 IV. A FAIR GEORGIAN 50 
 
 V. MRS. RUTHERFORD'S MALADY .... 60 
 
 VI. CLASHING AUTHORITY 71 
 
 VII. A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN 86 
 
 VIII. AN ARREST EVADED 98 
 
 IX. BETWEEN Two DUTIES in 
 
 X. His SUPERIOR OFFICER 121 
 
 XI. WHO is MAJOR FORNO? 136 
 
 XII. GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA 150 
 
 XIII. A NIGHT PATROL 163 
 
 XIV. A GRAVE ACCUSATION 179 
 
 XV. A SUPREME MOMENT 191 
 
 XVI. THE CHARGE OF THE FIFTH .... 203 
 
 XVII. TRASH OR TREASON? . . . . , .21? 
 
 3 
 
4 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVIII. WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION . . .223 
 
 XIX. "GIVE HIM ROPE" 236 
 
 XX. A CRUCIAL INTERVIEW .... . .249 
 
 XXI. IN DEFENSE OF A BROTHER . . . .261 
 
 XXII. A RUINED CAREER 273 
 
 XXIII. A GENTLEMAN AT LAST 287 
 
 XXIV. THE WEB UNTANGLED 298 
 
A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GOTHAM AT GRACE CHURCH. 
 
 IT was a soft, balmy 'April morning early April at 
 that and New York in general, and Grace 
 Church in particular, had been taken by surprise. 
 Furs and heavy overcoats had been the vogue up to 
 Friday night and, as noontide of Sunday drew near, 
 and, with it, the climax of the Doctor's sermon, 
 Brown, the big sexton, had thrown open the outer 
 doors and was actually mopping his brow. 
 
 Two young men stood chatting in subdued tone on 
 the stone step at the main entrance when the heavy 
 portals unexpectedly swung inward. Broadway at 
 the moment was silent and well nigh deserted. None 
 of the dozen "bus" lines profaned the Sabbath still- 
 ness of those days by jar of hoof or rumble of wheel 
 upon the Russ pavement. Cabs and hansoms were 
 unknown. - A policeman sauntered along the opposite 
 sidewalk in front of the St. Denis. A few private car- 
 riages were already drawn up along the curb await- 
 ing the coming forth of their pious owners some of 
 
 5 
 
6 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 the coachmen looking choked in their heavy winter 
 capes; but not one moving vehicle;, not a dozen pedes- 
 trians, could be.-GQttrited-m the two blocks between 
 Tenth and TwelttH street.-- -It -was before the days 
 of cable cars. It was before Raines laws had been 
 heard of, yet Phelan's great billiard rooms adjoining 
 the church on the Tenth street side, with everything 
 appertaining to them, were closed. 
 
 An almost rural silence reigned. The murmured 
 conversation between the gallants upon the church 
 steps was audible to them and evidently intended to 
 be audible to no one else, for it ceased suddenly as 
 Brown strode forth between the swinging doors and, 
 at sight of the pair, bowed with the dignity and im- 
 portance of a Turveydrop. 
 
 "Ha! Our ecclesiastical Falstaff in all his glory!" 
 said the elder of the two, with something like a sneer, 
 a trifle of impatience, too, in his tone and manner, for 
 he had been talking eagerly to his companion, and the 
 interruption came at the wrong moment. 
 
 "And he salutes Prince Hal with all loyalty," an- 
 swered the portly sexton. "You bear the sunshine of 
 the savannas with you, Captain Wallis. If the ad- 
 vance guard of the South come in this fashion what 
 will the main body bring us?" 
 
 "Better manners, Brown; and, possibly, better 
 sense," was the sharp, irritable answer, and the 
 speaker, a tall, slender, most distinguished-looking 
 man, turned abruptly and, linking his arm in that of 
 his companion, led him a few paces away and again 
 
GOTHAM AT GRACE CHURCH. 7 
 
 began his eager, low-toned talk. It was evident that 
 the sudden apparition had annoyed even shaken 
 him. It was evident, too, that he resented the semi- 
 familiar manner of the renowned sexton and meant 
 that he should know it. 
 
 "Odds boddikins!" said Brown, in high dudgeon. 
 "The captain is snippier than ever this morning. 
 Wants to borrow a thousand of young Barclay, I'm 
 betting a bottle! Better manners and sense, indeed!" 
 Wrath fully he glared at the two a moment. There 
 was none of the meekness of the cloister about Brown. 
 Sexton of Gotham's most famous and fashionable 
 church; accustomed for years to preside at every fu- 
 neral, wedding or baptism in high society, even at 
 times when the interested parties were not of his con- 
 gregation; precursor of the lamented Ward McAllis- 
 ter as an authority on social standing; possessor of an 
 alphabetical array of New Yorkers known to society 
 as "Brown's List" that was accepted as submissively 
 as is Debrett or Burke abroad; arbiter of many a ques- 
 tion of social precedence; autocrat of his profession; 
 bowed down to by hundreds who would appear upon 
 his books yet could not, and smiled upon by those 
 already there, he took it ill that all symptom of defer- 
 ence was denied him by this haughty military person- 
 age whose annual stipend was so much less than his 
 own, tips not included. He could not stomach it that 
 he should be treated with disdain. He stood there at 
 the Gothic portal red with wrath; swelling with indig- 
 nation; far too much amazed to know just how to 
 
8 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 resent the indignity, when of a sudden the swinging 
 doors beyond the vestibule burst open and there fairly 
 staggered into view a party of three; a gray-haired 
 woman, richly dressed, although in mourning, but 
 evidently stricken by some sudden malady or emo- 
 tion, supported by two anxious yet youthful forms, 
 one that of a fair girl, the other of a slight-built, 
 flaxen-haired youth, both garbed in the height of the 
 fashion of the day, which in the woman's case was 
 ridiculous. The main difficulty in assisting the invalid 
 arose from the vast expanse of dress-goods worn 
 "below the belt" by both herself and the girl. The 
 crinoline of '61, being never less than five to six feet 
 in diameter at the base, made the wearer look for all 
 the world like an inverted peg top. 
 
 But Brown, being built on different lines and taper- 
 ing from the ground upward to the waist, became 
 available at the instant. His huge bulk was brought 
 to bear without a second's delay. His red face and 
 angering eyes took on a look of deepest sympathy. 
 One sweeping gesture summoned the half dozing 
 coachman on the box of the nearest carriage. A 
 stalwart arm relieved the trembling girl. "Simply a 
 little faint. The day is too suddenly warm," he reas- 
 suringly spoke, even while he narrowly studied the 
 pallid face of the tottering woman. ''Home at once, 
 Miss Rutherford," he murmured. "A little sal am- 
 moniac, and I'll have Dr. Tracy after you in the next 
 carriage." 
 
 And so, bidding the speechless sufferer to lean her 
 
GOTHAM AT GRACE CHURCH. 9 
 
 weight upon his strength, he slowly led her across the 
 pavement to the curb; opened the carriage door, nor 
 would he step aside when the sound of anxious voices 
 told him Captain Wallis and Mr. Barclay had sprung 
 to their assistance. Unaided save by young Ruther- 
 ford, the son, he placed the lady within the carriage; 
 saw that her daughter was seated beside her; mo- 
 tioned the youth to jump in; slammed the door; said, 
 "Home, lively," to the coachman; then turned and in 
 self-conscious, pompous triumph confronted his re- 
 cent reviler and the little knot of sympathetic friends 
 that had gathered quickly from within. 
 
 'Tray have no uneasiness," said he. 'The Doctor's 
 war pictures have been a bit too much for Mrs. Ruth- 
 erford's nerves. She, at least, has some excuse for 
 her Southern sympathies she is a Georgian," and 
 here he looked with much significance into the imper- 
 turbable features of Captain Wallis. 
 
 "Possibly, ah, Brown, you might display wisdom by 
 summoning Dr. Tracy, nevertheless," said the tall 
 officer, as he quickly bent and possessed himself of a 
 small silken bag that, unnoticed by the Rutherfords 
 or the sexton, had fallen at the edge of the pavement. 
 
 "That, Captain Wallis, I purpose doing at once," 
 answered Brown, with much dignity. "And further, 
 if you please, I will ask him to return to them that 
 reticule." 
 
 "I shall do that in person," replied the captain, with 
 airy superiority of mien and manner. "You need 
 trouble neither the Doctor nor yourself. Shall we go, 
 
io A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Barclay?" and, raising his silk hat to the little group, 
 Wallis turned placidly away. 
 
 For a moment no word was spoken. Perhaps a 
 dozen people by this time had gathered in front of 
 the sanctuary, several of them anxious friends of Mrs. 
 Rutherford who had followed her from within, the 
 others mere loungers and saunterers attracted to the 
 spot through curiosity. By sight or reputation every- 
 body knew Brown. He was far more frequently 
 quoted or mentioned than was his superior, the rec- 
 tor, and the sight of the great man standing there in 
 the noonday sunshine, gazing in wrath after the dis- 
 turber of his peace, was something that for a moment 
 silenced them all. The sound of the City Hall bell, 
 two miles distant, yet in those days distinctly audible 
 of a Sunday, beginning with its companions in the fire 
 watch towers the stroke of twelve, recalled him to 
 himself. Mechanically he wrested a fine hunting- 
 cased gold watch from the pocket of his glossy, glob- 
 ular, silken waistcoat; glanced at the face to compare 
 notes with the keeper of the city's time; then quickly 
 re-entered the church; tiptoed under the subdued 
 light of the stained-glass windows up the carpeted 
 aisle, while the gray-haired pastor read on from his 
 impressive sermon; tapped softly upon a black broad- 
 clothed shoulder and whispered a word in the ear of 
 a portly gentleman. The first response was a shrug 
 of impatience, an effort to wave the disturber aside; 
 for Dr. Tracy was listening intently, as was the entire 
 congregation, to the Doctor's words. It was the first 
 
GOTHAM AT GRACE CHURCH. n 
 
 time within those walls that the possibilities of the 
 great "impending conflict" between the North and 
 South had been touched upon and the time was more 
 than ripe, for shotted guns were trained on Sumter's 
 beleaguered garrison and already had barked their 
 challenge to the flag of the Union, driving back to sea 
 the Star of the West as she steamed across the bar, 
 laden with needed reinforcements and supplies. It 
 was not until the sexton bent a second time and whis- 
 pered, "Mrs. Rutherford's ill and taken home," that 
 Dr. Tracy slowly found his feet and the aisle. Even 
 then he turned and bent attentive ear to the rector's 
 eloquent periods and exchanged glances with an 
 elderly man whose eyes were snapping with sup- 
 pressed feeling, whose usually crisp curling gray hair 
 seemed charged with electricity, for the rector was 
 preaching the gospel of peace at any price at the very 
 moment when throughout the Southern States, far 
 and near, good Episcopalians as these in Gotham were 
 besieging the throne of grace with importunity in 
 behalf of a President of their own choice, ignoring 
 him whom the nation had so recently called to the 
 chair. It was ten minutes after twelve when at last 
 the great physician drove away, and, though he had 
 barely seven blocks to traverse, was surprised to find 
 Captain Wallis on the broad brownstone steps in 
 rapid conversation with flaxen-haired young Ruther- 
 ford, who had come forth bareheaded. A third per- 
 son, Mr. Barclay, stood a silent but most interested 
 listener. 
 
12 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Tracy nodded brusquely to Wallis he did not like 
 him at all; failed to notice the respectful lift of the 
 hat accorded him by Mr. Barclay, whom he had 
 known since the day he ushered him into the world, 
 and, taking Rutherford by the arm, led him within 
 the broad vestibule, never noting the fact that, while 
 Barclay hung back, Wallis followed at his heels, and 
 as the physician ascended the stairs to the second 
 story the officer turned calmly into the parlor of the 
 old Fifth Avenue homestead. Two minutes later the 
 latter came forth into the sunshine to find that Barclay 
 had descended the broad flight of steps and was halted 
 irresolute on the sidewalk. 
 
 Up and down the avenue the churches were just be- 
 ginning to pour forth their congregations, and the 
 gay hour the promenade hour of the week was 
 about to begin. Any sunlit afternoon would find 
 many of Gotham's social circle sauntering along the 
 broad sidewalks between the limits of Tenth Street 
 and the reservoir; but on Sunday, freshly garbed and 
 gloved and duly inspired by the words of grace to 
 which they had listened for the hour past, every man 
 and woman worthy the notice of the elect made the 
 solemn tour afoot. One might, even in those church- 
 going days, neglect the service, but never the stroll, 
 and for six months past Captain Wallis, stationed at 
 Governor's Island, had rarely been known to miss it 
 until mid March, when suddenly sent South on some 
 errand that seemed to take precedence. He had just 
 returned, as Brown had intimated, and now, instead of 
 
GOTHAM AT GRACE CHURCH. 13 
 
 reappearing in the promenade a man immaculate in 
 dress and unimpeachable in bearing and distinction 
 he seemed bent on other projects, for he called to 
 Barclay, and there was something of command in his 
 tone, bidding him return. Wallis had more to say 
 to him. 
 
 Barclay came half way up the steps. "Then say it 
 as we walk, Wallis. I I don't like to intrude at such 
 a time." 
 
 "You couldn't intrude here at any time," was the 
 curt rejoinder. "I could, and I need you for a cloak 
 to my intrusion. No one is in the parlor. We can 
 continue our talk there; we cannot at the club." 
 
 "I've said all I had to say," was Barclay's answer, 
 but as he spoke his eyes were wandering to the upper 
 windows, his face was grave and perturbed. 
 
 "You think you have, man, because you haven't 
 heard half I have to say to you. What's more, it's got 
 to be said to-day or written to-night. Which will you 
 take?" and there was something like menace now in 
 the tone. 
 
 "I don't wish Rutherford to suspect," began Bar- 
 clay. 
 
 "Who can better help you? He was your chum at 
 Columbia. You did him a service not four months 
 ago. You pulled him through his senior year, if all 
 I hear be true. He can't have forgotten he owed his 
 sheepskin to you last June and his sweetheart last 
 January." 
 
 "That's just why I won't draw on him," and now 
 
i 4 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Barclay's handsome young face was setting white and 
 stern. "Moreover, Captain Wallis, I should have to 
 tell him why I asked it and thereby confirm his sus- 
 picions. He warned me of this last winter." 
 
 "Ah, did he? Oh, good morning, Mrs. Griswold!" 
 and Wallis bowed with courtly grace to the foremost 
 couple of a little procession issuing from the church- 
 yard in the block below, a woman with social ambi- 
 tion, a man with none outside the stock market, and 
 in the eyes of both there was mild surprise. Harold 
 Wallis "Prince Hal" to a certain coterie that was 
 limited in the start and already growing smaller was 
 no favorite with the Griswold clique, yet here he stood 
 at the portals of the most exclusive mansion on the 
 avenue, one whose threshold they had never crossed, 
 yet here were those portals wide open to him. Bar- 
 clay had raised his beaver in civil, if perfunctory, salu- 
 tation, then turned as though to leave, but Wallis laid 
 a detaining hand upon his arm. 
 
 "Come back, youngster," said he. 
 
 "No," said Barclay. "If you need say more I'll be 
 at the Union at one o'clock." 
 
 "Come back, youngster," repeated Wallis, as he 
 drew the silken bag from the breast of his natty spring 
 overcoat. "Who shall give this to Miss Ethel you 
 or I? Ten minutes with me, then twenty with her. 
 Isn't it worth it?" 
 
 For a moment Barclay stood, his color and his 
 courage coming and going, then he turned and fol- 
 lowed the elder into the house. Once within the hall 
 
GOTHAM AT GRACE CHURCH. 15 
 
 the latter stopped, closed the massive doors behind 
 them and motioned to his captive to enter the parlor. 
 This, too, almost in the face, of the advance guard of 
 anxious inquirers from the congregation of Grace 
 Church. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 
 
 IT had been a strange half year in the great city 
 that that followed the presidential election of 
 November, 1860. The people had chosen for their 
 chief magistrate a son of the soil from the far West 
 rather than the great leader who had twice served 
 as governor of the Empire State and long years in the 
 Senate, and plainly did New York show that New 
 Yorkers didn't like it. Who was Abraham Lincoln 
 that he should be held the peer of William H. Sew- 
 ard? None but Horace Greeley, the veteran editor of 
 the "Tribune," who more than any one man had de- 
 stroyed Seward's chances in the Chicago convention, 
 could or would say now; for few remembered the 
 speech of the tall, ungainly Westerner at the Cooper 
 Institute only the year before he whose words were 
 destined to go ringing down the ages, quoted, revered 
 and studied, as have been those of no other leader in 
 our national life. In apathy, if not indifference, many 
 people had read the news that State after State, South 
 Carolina leading the ill-starred procession, had sev- 
 ered its ties with the Union and seized all federal 
 property within its gates. The old New York Hotel 
 was thronged with jubilant, boastful Southerners and 
 
 16 
 
A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 17 
 
 their Northern sympathizers, many wearing openly 
 the badge of their new-born Confederacy. The ''stars 
 and bars" in silk and silver and gold were flaunted on 
 many a smiling woman's bodice, or pinned to the 
 waistcoat of excited and exultant men. The veteran 
 general of the army, hero of the wars of 1812 and 
 Mexico, driven from Washington by the slights of 
 successive war secretaries, all Southern born and bred, 
 had been dwelling in New York until the demands of 
 the solid business element of the nation had wrung 
 from President Buchanan in the last months of his 
 administration the naming of Joseph Holt, a strong 
 Unionist, as Secretary of War, and Edwin M. Stanton, 
 of Pennsylvania, as Attorney General, and through 
 these came the recall of Scott to his proper station. 
 But even then the adjutant general's office was in the 
 hands of a soldier schooled by such as Jefferson Davis 
 and John B. Floyd. Almost every important post or 
 arsenal had been placed in charge of a Southern of- 
 ficer. Even at West Point the teachings of the na- 
 tional Corps of Cadets had been confided to men 
 strong in their assertion of State's rights and South- 
 ern supremacy. Even at Columbia, New York's own 
 college, the badge of disloyalty was covertly displayed 
 by certain students not even Southern by birth, but 
 sympathetic through personal association. And, at a 
 time when army officers far and near were tendering 
 their resignations and quitting the service of the 
 Union for that of the South, Harold Wallis, captain 
 of infantry, born, bred and reared in the old army and 
 
i8 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 educated at West Point, was daily and nightly con- 
 sorting with the Southern extremists in society and 
 spending hours with the secession element at the New 
 York Hotel. 
 
 He had been accorded the entree at the Union and 
 the New York Clubs, the former the most conserva- 
 tive, the latter the most progressive of the day. But 
 there were men at the one who were beginning to look 
 upon him with doubtful eyes, while, strange to say, 
 within the portals of the other could be heard more 
 expression of Southern than of Union sentiment. It 
 was one of the symptoms that misled the leaders of a 
 brave and enthusiastic people. They little dreamed 
 of the deep love and loyalty to the flag that underlay 
 the silence of the North. The old submission to the 
 will of the majority, the supremacy of the slave-hold- 
 ing States, the doctrine of freedom of the press and 
 of personal speech, the fact that for years federal 
 officials of every grade had had to be men in sym- 
 pathy with the "peculiar institution" of the South 
 all still weighed heavily upon men who loved the 
 Union. But the lightning was only sleeping the 
 fire smouldering. "Let the erring sisters go in peace," 
 spoke Greeley, through the " Tribune," and in many 
 a Northern city, even though something told every 
 thinking man that in peace those sisters would neither 
 go nor stay, a peace-loving, law-abiding, yet, when 
 once aroused, a stubborn and determined people, 
 seemed content to let the advocates of disunion do 
 all the talking, and talk they certainly did. 
 
A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 19 
 
 That very Sunday of the Rutherfords' sudden exit 
 from the sanctuary and within an hour from the clos- 
 ing of the church doors, the throng on the sunlit ave- 
 nue dispersed for luncheon, and a dozen people, men 
 and women, had gathered about the hospitable board 
 of an old family mansion in Fourteenth Street. A 
 matronly dame and her daughters were entertaining 
 guests who had casually dropped in, for the head of 
 the house had stopped to have a warning word with 
 the rector of Grace. Three young women and as 
 many attendant cavaliers made up the party of visit- 
 ors. Of these one eager, animated girl, whose accent 
 plainly bespoke her far Southern birth, wore openly 
 upon her breast a little silken flag that bore the colors 
 but not the pattern of the stars and stripes. Next 
 her was seated a youth upon whose waistcoat could 
 be occasionally seen the counterpart of the badge so 
 ostentatiously displayed by the girl from whom he 
 hardly once removed his eyes. Fascination was ap- 
 parent to one and all, nor was it a new story. Jimmy 
 Granger's devotion to the fair Georgian had been ob- 
 vious to uppertendom since her coming early the pre- 
 vious autumn. On her other hand, and seated next 
 the mistress of the homestead, was Wallis, blithe and 
 debonair as ever, and taking up much of the talk 
 not monopolized by Miss Brenham, for, with the rec- 
 tors sermon as a text, that brilliant young woman 
 'had launched into an eager, vehement defense of the 
 action of her native State. Once in awhile some of 
 her own sex ventured a word of polite dissent, or re- 
 
20 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 monstrance, but not so Wallis. If anything, he urged 
 her on in a vivid, verbal picture she was drawing 
 the contrast in social life as it had been in Washing- 
 ton under the guidance of the courtly Buchanan and 
 his gifted, gracious niece, and as it must be under this 
 new occupant of the White House, "this commoner 
 of the commonest with his countrified, ignorant wife." 
 Across the table, silent, yet evidently chafing and 
 disturbed, sat a man of possibly twenty-six, shorter 
 of stature than Wallis by nearly a head; fair in hair 
 and complexion where the other was dark; with eyes 
 of deep blue, whereas those of Wallis were well nigh 
 black and sparkling like a diamond he wore in the 
 ring of his Roman scarf; a man whose dress was far 
 more quiet in cut and color, if not, indeed, a trifle 
 quaint, while Wallis was garbed in the height of the 
 prevailing mode and wore his garments with infinite 
 dash and style; a man somewhat shy and reserved, 
 whereas Wallis had the assurance and air of a Brum- 
 mell; but a man as distinctly a soldier in bearing and 
 carriage as was Wallis himself, and with better claim, 
 for his right cheek was deeply seamed where plowed 
 but recently by Indian arrow, and Wallis, with several 
 more years of service, had never a scratch. To him 
 the shy and silent one a daughter of the house 
 spoke frequently; striving to draw him into chat; to 
 make the conversation general; to break up, if pos- 
 sible, the monopoly compelled by the magnetism of 
 the Georgian. But the blue-eyed soldier seemed held 
 by seme strange fascination. His replies were brief 
 
A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 21 
 
 and even irrelevant. His whole attention seemed 
 concentrated on what she and Wallis were saying, 
 but there were ominous indications that he was medi- 
 tating vehement reply; and the other gentleman, the 
 third of the party, a younger brother of Captain Wal- 
 lis, watched him narrowly in evident anticipation of 
 an outbreak. The soldier's lips were twitching; his 
 moustache bristling; his fingers thrumming nervously, 
 sometimes on the arm of his chair and sometimes on 
 the table; and the one or two who knew him well 
 and had known him long felt that a clash was surely 
 coming, for Bernard Hoyt was a loyalist to the back- 
 bone a young troop leader renowned in the cavalry, 
 though still far from his captaincy and, from the mo- 
 ment of their first meeting under this very roof, three 
 weeks before and just prior to the sudden mission of 
 Wallis to the South, it was patent to those who ob- 
 served that no love was lost between these fellow 
 soldiers that Hoyt held Wallis in marked disfavor. 
 It was something the head of the house, the gray- 
 haired gentleman with whom Dr. Tracy had ex- 
 changed significant glances in church, had noted at 
 the moment, and had never forgotten since. It was 
 known that they had served together on the Utah ex- 
 pedition, Hoyt with the cavalry, Wallis on the staff. 
 Wallis had come over from the Island the evening of 
 that occurrence with a brother officer, a South Caro- 
 linian who had just resigned and was still in New 
 York, waiting for his tailor to finish the new uniforms 
 of Confederate gray that in March, '61, were being 
 
22 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 made, even there, in greater numbers than were those 
 of Union blue. They were paying a dinner call when 
 the butler entered with a card; and a young man 
 appeared at the doorway, at sight of whom one of 
 the family sprang forward and welcomed him with 
 eager delight. She had met and known him well, it 
 seems, when visiting kindred in the far West. Joy- 
 ously she presented him to her parents and sisters, 
 then turned to Wallis and his Southern comrade who 
 had risen as courtesy demanded. 
 
 "Ah, Hoyt, dear boy, when did you blow hither? 
 Thought you were still chasing Indians out on the 
 Smoky Hill," said Wallis, airily. A flush mounted 
 instantly to the new arrival's face. "How do you do, 
 Captain Wallis," he said, with cold civility; giving 
 but a limp and reluctant hand to that held forth to 
 him; then, quickly turning, he took in both his the 
 faltering hand of the South Carolinian: "Haines, old 
 fellow, I'm so glad to see you! and so very sorry to 
 hear -of your going," he said. 
 
 There was something strangely significant in the 
 difference of his manner toward these two, presum- 
 ably, comrades and brother officers -his cold respect 
 to the soldier superior who still remained upon the 
 army rolls, his almost affectionate greeting to a for- 
 mer messmate, who, following the dictates of his con- 
 science and the teachings of a lifetime, had thrown 
 up his commission to follow the fortunes of his State. 
 
 Hoyt's visit that evening had been but a brief one. 
 To the regret of the household he speedily took his 
 
A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 23 
 
 leave; explaining that, being only just arrived in New 
 York, he had many old friends to "look up," and then, 
 with a glance at the Southerner and a slight shade 
 of embarrassment, he added that there was no saying 
 whether he could expect to enjoy his entire leave. "I 
 hope to see you again before you go South," he said 
 to Haines, whereas to Wallis he expressed no desire 
 of future meeting at all. 
 
 "Very ah creditable. At least ah quite so," 
 said Wallis, not two minutes after Hoyt had gone, for 
 the latter's record on the plains had been referred to 
 and the senior officer found himself directly ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 "Quite so!" exclaimed Haines, impetuously. "Why, 
 Wallis, you know well your own chief said there was 
 no finer young troop leader in the service, and if ever 
 a man knew a soldier it is Sidney Johnston," 
 
 And now again these men had met, as luck would 
 have it, not only under that same roof but at a lunch- 
 eon table; the one, though still a wearer of the army 
 blue, a kinsman of some of the best and oldest families 
 of-* the South and the daily associate of those who 
 sought the utter disruption of the Union; the other, 
 Northern by birth and lineage and Union to his 
 heart's core. It was evident to almost every one at 
 the table that Hoyt was only waiting for a pause in 
 the vehement flow of the fair Georgian's words to 
 enter the lists, and, above all things, the hostess hated 
 argument or discussion that bade fair to be warm. 
 Something had to be done. 
 
24 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "Captain Wallis," she said, turning full upon him 
 and compelling his attention, "you began saying how 
 you left Mrs. Rutherford, but became so engrossed 
 in what Miss Brenham was telling us that you never 
 finished; and, Mr. Hoyt, the Rutherfords are your 
 kinsfolk, I think. Let me see, your mother was Dor- 
 othy Renwick and she and Gerald Rutherford were 
 first cousins, were they not?" 
 
 "Only second, Mrs. Leroy." 
 
 "Then you and Ethel are not near of kin at all. I 
 thought we all thought " 
 
 "We were boy and girl chums, perhaps sweet- 
 hearts," said Hoyt, with slight access of color, for 
 Wallis had whirled in his chair and was watching him 
 narrowly. "I was not at Grace this morning, but I 
 left the Rutherfords only just before coming here. 
 Mrs. Rutherford was then quite restored and much 
 more composed." 
 
 "And Ethel?" 
 
 "Ethel was busy in the parlor receiving and reas- 
 suring inquiring friends." 
 
 "You left Ned Barclay there, I'll warrant!" cried 
 Miss Brenham, impetuously. "He has been an 
 adorer ever since her return from Europe a year 
 ago." 
 
 "Mr. Barclay was one of several who were still 
 there when I came away," answered Hoyt, with grave 
 reserve of manner. "Mrs. Rutherford's sudden illness 
 seemed to be due to the raking up of an old sorrow. 
 I dare say you all know how Ralph, her first-born, 
 
A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 25 
 
 met his death," and now the steely blue eyes were 
 looking first at Wallis, then at Miss Brenham, and 
 straight into the eyes of both. "The rector's unfortu- 
 nate sermon " 
 
 "Pardon me, ah, Hoyt," interrupted Wallis, at 
 once, and with just a symptom of haste despite his 
 airy manner, "pardon my saying that it is very unlike- 
 ly that any one present, except possibly myself, can 
 know just how Ralph Rutherford met his death. The 
 stories published in a prejudiced ah Northern press 
 were most erroneous. It was at the time, as you re- 
 member, of the episode in the Senate chamber in which 
 Senator Sumner and Mr. Brooks figured and the 
 Northern press was notably unjust did grievous 
 injustice to a gentleman of one of our most fa- 
 mous families in the South. It was a very regret- 
 table occurrence that of the meeting between Pres- 
 ton and Rutherford, but, ah ah entirely unavoid- 
 able through Rutherford's own rashness." 
 
 "/ know, and you know this, Captain Wallis," an- 
 swered Hoyt, and his voice grew firm and ringing, 
 "Ralph Rutherford was a guest at the club at Savan- 
 nah at the time, and he was wantonly insulted by a 
 master in the use of weapons and the code of the 
 duello. Gordon, his friend, and his mother's kinsman, 
 was away at the time, and he had none to counsel. 
 He did just what the fashion of the day demanded, 
 and was shot dead at sunrise that his slayer might cut 
 another notch in the stock of his pistol!" 
 
 "Leftenant Hoyt!" exclaimed Miss Brenham, in 
 
26 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 amaze and indignation. "You surely do not be- 
 lieve " 
 
 "Mr. Hoyt," began Wallis,, half rising from his 
 chair, "if ah the story reached the frontier in that 
 form it is high time " 
 
 But Hoyt's blood was up, and he was not to be si- 
 lenced. Awkward as was the situation; embarrassing 
 as was the discussion to all other persons present, it 
 had gone too far not to be finished. For an instant 
 the hostess had glanced appealingly at Hoyt as 
 though begging him to refrain. 
 
 "I crave your pardon, Mrs. Leroy," said he, with 
 instant deference and regret. "I have spoken of mat- 
 ters I wish I could forget, but Ralph Rutherford was 
 my warmest friend before I went to the Point and 
 when I was on leave or furlough, and I never rested 
 till I got the facts. Captain Gordon, who made thor- 
 ough investigation, and Seabrooke, now cooped up 
 at Sumter, who was his second, both wrote me full 
 details. I wish that Haines were still here to add 
 further confirmation, as I know he could; but, if Ralph 
 Rutherford had fair play, why did the Oglethorpe 
 close its doors to Hugh Preston? Why is Preston an 
 exile in Paris to this day?" 
 
 "He's not, my dear fellow," answered Wallis, rais- 
 ing his claret glass to the light and critically studying 
 it as though other matters were of little moment. 
 "He is home at this minute or was ah a week ago." 
 
 "Then the story which we scouted at the West 
 Point mess that he dined with you at Delmonico's 
 
A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 27 
 
 three weeks ago, and that you went South together, 
 may after all have some foundation/' said Hoyt, his 
 blue eyes blazing, his fingers strumming ominously. 
 
 "And if it have?" said Wallis, with utter uncon- 
 cern. 
 
 The strain was becoming intolerable. Miss Bren- 
 ham's cheeks were burning; her eyes were ablaze with 
 angry light. All attempts on the part of the house- 
 hold to start conversation on other topics with other 
 members of the party had fallen flat. The sudden en- 
 trance of the butler with two cards on a tray brought 
 blessed relief. 
 
 "Mr. Gerald Rutherford, Jr." 
 "Mr. Edward Clayton Barclay." 
 
 read the hostess aloud and with infinite gratitude. 
 "Show them right in here, Furness. Why, how odd!" 
 she continued, as she turned in her chair. "Yet you 
 said Mrs. Rutherford was quite restored, Mr. Hoyt?" 
 Almost immediately the two young men appeared 
 at the folding doors that opened into the old-fash- 
 ioned parlor, embarrassment on both faces. This 
 April Sunday seemed destined to be prolific of sen- 
 sation so soft and warm and balmy without that the 
 butler had opened the long windows leading to the 
 little balcony at the back of the house, and the lace 
 curtains were fluttering in the entering breeze so 
 ominous and threatening within that, like pent up 
 electricity, it seemed as though it must find vent in 
 
28 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 flash and thunder. Glad, possibly to escape from the 
 table for an instant, though luncheon was not yet 
 over, Mrs. Leroy had risen at sight of these two 
 young gentlemen, both prominent in society, both 
 members of old and distinguished families. She ad- 
 vanced upon them with welcoming hand, and each 
 bowed over it in deep respect and murmured his apol- 
 ogy for intrusion at such a moment. 
 
 "The butler said we were to come directly here, 
 Mrs. Leroy," said young Rutherford, his straw-col- 
 ored hair making vivid contrast with his blushing 
 face. "Oh! thanks, yes, mother is much better quite 
 herself again ! The sudden heat, you know. It it's 
 Ethel that's upset now. Will you pardon me, Mrs. 
 
 Leroy, but " And here his eyes, that had flitted 
 
 with his perfunctory, embarrassed bows from one to 
 another of the assembled party, rested full on Wallis. 
 Like their mother, the daughters had risen to greet 
 the newcomers. Lieutenant Hoyt, too, was on his 
 feet; while Frederick, a college boy of nineteen, the 
 only male member of the household present, had has- 
 tened round the table and was hospitably shaking 
 hands with Barclay, who still hung back at the fold- 
 ing doors, looking, if anything, more perturbed than 
 Rutherford. 
 
 "Ethel!" exclaimed Mrs. Leroy. "Nothing seri- 
 ous, I hope. You weren't looking for Dr. Tracy?" 
 
 "No; the doctor isn't needed. The fact is she 
 dropped a silk bag that reticule thing you may have 
 seen her carry and Captain Wallis was so so kind 
 
A SIGNIFICANT DISCUSSION. 29 
 
 as to return it, but some of the contents are miss- 
 ing some to which she attached peculiar impor-^ 
 tance, and she begged me to find the Captain at once 
 and ask if by any possibility they could have dropped 
 out or whether the bag was open or closed when 
 he found it." 
 
 "Closed to a certainty!" answered Wallis, prompt- 
 ly, positively, and without a shade of the airy, blase, 
 cynical manner that was his odd characteristic. One 
 would have said his interest and sympathy had been 
 instantly enlisted. 
 
 "And you pardon me could it have become 
 open, you know it was only closed by a silken cord 
 open while you had it?" 
 
 "Hardly possible, Mr. Rutherford," promptly an- 
 swered Wallis. "I thrust it into the inside pocket of 
 my overcoat may the butler fetch it here, Mrs. Le- 
 roy? and I handed it intact, I think, to Mr. Barclay 
 to deliver to Miss Rutherford. But we'll search at 
 once. What are missing? some items of ah 
 jewelry?" 
 
 "Some papers,. rather, I infer from what she says," 
 answered Rutherford. 
 
 "Very odd indeed! Such things could not easily 
 drop from a bag like that. You had it, Barclay, for 
 some minutes after I left. Did you ah feel any- 
 thing like papers in it?" 
 
 Barclay still stood at the folding doors. He had 
 not advanced beyond them. His face was pallid, his 
 lips were compressed, but at the abrupt question, that 
 
30 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 turned all eyes upon him, the color rushed to his very 
 brows and he started forward a full pace before he 
 answered: 
 
 "I? I never had occasion to touch It! You laid it 
 on the center table as you went away, and there it lay 
 until Miss Rutherford came down and herself picked 
 it up." 
 
 "How very strange!" said Wallis, now rummaging 
 in the pockets of the natty, silk-lined, light drab over- 
 coat then in vogue for Easter weather. "Do you 
 know I ah would have gone to my next station 
 with the absolute conviction that I had placed that 
 reticule in your hands." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 
 
 THE news of the fall of Sumter the affront to 
 the flag came to the men of the North like 
 a slap in the face. New York City blazed with instant 
 patriotism. Every staff, spire, tower and public build- 
 ing threw to the breeze the stars and stripes. Bunt- 
 ing within twenty-four hours commanded a fabulous 
 price, and Broadway went mad in a riot of brilliant 
 hues. Men and women even children who did not 
 wear in some outward form the badge of loyalty to 
 the nation were not infrequently called on to "show 
 their colors." And those who had dared to wear, al- 
 \ most unrebuked, the miniature flag of secession, dared 
 I no longer, for the North was roused at last. 
 
 Even at "Southern Headquarters," as they now 
 called Cranston's famous old red-brick hostelry even 
 in their delirious hour of temporary triumph men 
 spoke with bated breath and cautious tone. The an- 
 gering eyes of the throng on the street without boded 
 ill for the peace and security of those within, and 
 there was wisdom in the whispered order that sent 
 a strong detachment of detectives in plain clothes to 
 hover about the obnoxious building, while in doubled 
 numbers the Metropolitan police kept the crowds 
 
 31 
 
32 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 moving and broke up incipient mobs. Given half a 
 chance, and a leader, there is little doubt that the hotel 
 would have been rendered untenable as Sumter and 
 in far less time. On the almost summerlike Sunday 
 preceding the bombardment it was considered safe, as 
 it was saucy, for men and women both to sport the 
 "stars and bars." There had been something fine, 
 daring and defiant about it to the mind of the un- 
 thinking, but, in the twinkling of an eye, all this was 
 changed. There were women, of course, who, relying 
 upon the immunity of the sex and the chivalry of 
 American manhood, did not scruple to appear at cer- 
 tain social functions still wearing their cherished 
 badge and talking bravely of the wrongs and the 
 determination of the South. But Southern sympa- 
 thizers who read the signs aright stood astounded, 
 if not dismayed, at such overwhelming evidence of 
 loyalty to the old flag. This was not what leaders of 
 the Northern Democracy had promised. The masses, 
 as well as the elect, were filled with sudden craze for 
 action, when but the week gone by they seemed pas- 
 sive and inert. So far from submitting to the will of 
 the South, the people had risen in a passion of pro- 
 test; and, all too late, the leaders of secession found 
 that, cold, dull, undemonstrative as it had appeared, 
 the Northland loved the Union with a devotion all 
 the deeper for its silence, and that it would fight for 
 what it loved, relentless, and to the bitter end. At 
 the New York Club the situation had been epito- 
 mized in two sentences: 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 33 
 
 "Nothing short of a miracle will make the average 
 Yankee fight," said Wallis, the very day that brought 
 the news. 
 
 "And nothing short of annihilation will make him 
 quit," was the spirited reply. 
 
 On Saturday, the I3th of April, the flag was low- 
 ered on the battered walls of Sumter. On Monday, 
 the 1 5th, it was hoisted by tens of thousands all over 
 the North, and the President called for seventy-five 
 thousand volunteers to defend it. Seventy-five thou- 
 sand! when by hundreds of thousands, untaught, 
 untried, but firm and resolute, the men of the North 
 sprang to arms and almost fought for the privilege 
 to be first in the fight for the flag. On Tuesday the 
 loyal States were wiring their pledges of fealty and 
 their promises of troops. On Wednesday the drum 
 beat was heard in every armory in the Northern 
 cities, and the regiments of New England and the 
 Middle States were mustering for battle. In their 
 quaint, high, old-fashioned shakos and long blue over- 
 coats, the thronging ranks of the Sixth and Eighth 
 Massachusetts marched through New York, cheered 
 and feted by countless multitudes. Through dense 
 masses of humanity, women weeping, men hoarsely 
 shouting, New York's magnificent Seventh, first of- 
 fering of the Empire State, strode down Broadway 
 to the Cortlandt Ferry, and were lost in the darkness 
 of the Jersey shore. In all its history Gotham had 
 never known such a day. The flower of its young 
 manhood, the best blood, the oldest names, the first 
 
34 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 families were represented on the rolls. The night 
 that followed was not one for merrymaking. Even in 
 the homes of well-known Southern sympathizers 
 even in the mansion of a family but recently removed 
 from the Gulf coast and introduced to society through 
 the medium of Brown's list and a big ball lights 
 were turned low, curtains were drawn. There was 
 that in the air that prompted caution, and invitations 
 to even quiet home gatherings had been recalled. A 
 Columbia senior who had strutted the length of Fifth 
 Avenue the week before, thumbs in the armholes of 
 his waistcoat and the badge of Georgia on his breast, 
 stood close mouthed and as close buttoned in his 
 snug-fitting sack coat at the corner of Fourteenth 
 Street, the device of the "Delta Sigs" upon his lapel, 
 but indecision in his breast. It was the night for their 
 regular meeting, but even fraternal relations had 
 seemed strained since the firing on the Star of the 
 West, and now stood threatened with open rupture. 
 Fifth Avenue was still alive with people, moving rest- 
 lessly hither and yon; and as the young student gazed 
 uneasily about him, half stunned by the outpouring 
 that boded ill for "the States in rebellion," he could 
 count within the radius of a single block no less than 
 a dozen homes within whose portals he had been a 
 welcome visitor but the month before, from within 
 whose portals there had gone that day sons and 
 brothers in the uniform of the Seventh. How could 
 they welcome him to-night? he, who, Northern born 
 and bred, had lost his heart in the Sunny South, and 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 35 
 
 for the sake of the girl who won it, had apparently 
 lost his head! 
 
 Halted there, nervous, troubled, irresolute, he 
 started when a hand was passed within his arm a 
 slender little hand, daintily gloved and, whirling 
 about, he pulled off his Amidon cap, the college head- 
 gear of the day, and bowed, with ill-concealed agi- 
 tation. There stood Ethel Rutherford, leaning on 
 the arm of the blue-eyed officer he had met at the 
 Leroys, and Ethel's fair face was full of sadness. 
 
 " I so hoped you'd come this evening, Jimmy," said 
 she, in low, gentle tone. "You and poor Gerald were 
 such friends. You know Mr. Hoyt, I think," whereat 
 the cavalryman gravely touched his hat, but sent the 
 hand no further. "Mother, too, would be so glad if 
 you could come in and comfort him." 
 
 "I didn't know or, rather, I supposed of course, 
 he'd " 
 
 "Gone with his regiment? Gerald? Why, Jimmy! 
 Hadn't you heard?" and Miss Rutherford's pretty lips 
 were twitching piteously. "He's almost heartbroken," 
 she went on, presently, striving to control herself. 
 "Mother swooned when he told her the Seventh were 
 ordered off, and that meant him, too, and then oh, 
 I can't talk of it here! but Dr. Tracy solemnly de- 
 clared it would kill her if he went, and he's locked 
 himself in his own room. Can't you go to him?" 
 
 "I'd go, Miss Rutherford, if if- But he'll no 
 more see me than anybody!" answered Granger, in 
 deep embarrassment; then, plunging further into the 
 
36 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 mire, haplessly added, "Can't Barclay Oh, I beg 
 pardon!" 
 
 Even in the dim light they saw the swift color 
 mantle her cheek. "Mr. Barclay has gone with the 
 Seventh. That's what makes it even harder per- 
 haps," said she. 
 
 "Why, I didn't know he belonged to the Seventh!" 
 began Granger, grateful for anything to turn the talk 
 to less trying topics. 
 
 "He didn't. He went in Gerald's place almost in 
 his shoes," she answered, with an attempt at gaiety. 
 "At least he wore Gerald's overcoat. He couldn't 
 begin to button his gray jacket around him. You will 
 come, won't you? Listen, I'm going for Lorna now. 
 Mother's almost crying to see her." 
 
 Up to this moment Lieutenant Hoyt had been 
 standing in civil, patient silence, yet the light cane 
 he carried was switching nervously. Now he sud- 
 denly spoke. "Pardon me, Miss Rutherford, if I sug- 
 gest that now you might accomplish both ends in 
 one. Why not let Mr. Granger bear your mother's 
 message, and be Miss Brenham's escort?" 
 
 "Oh, would you, Jimmy?" asked Miss Rutherford, 
 impulsively, eagerly, and Granger's sombre eyes 
 looked up in quick suspicion. "It is only to Sixteenth 
 Street, but, of course, you know and really I ought 
 to hasten back to mother," was her hurried explana- 
 tion. 
 
 "I'll bear the message and offer my services with 
 pleasure," said Granger, trying hard not to show 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 37. 
 
 with how much pleasure, "but will you? do you 
 think Gerald will care to see me?" 
 
 "Come in anyway," was the answer, as they 
 parted, and Granger, hurrying on his mission, came 
 face to face at the very next corner with Captain 
 Wallis whom, in his haste and eagerness, he would 
 gladly have avoided. Wallis was dressed with even 
 more than the usual care, and wore at his buttonhole 
 a little knot of ribbon in the national colors* Granger 
 would have passed him by with only a nod, but the 
 elder and brainier man willed it otherwise, and barred 
 his path. 
 
 "What, what, what!" he cried, in feigned dis- 
 pleasure. "A Granger and undecorated with the 
 red, white and blue! Whither away, lad? and why 
 this haste? and why no colors? Have we not all to 
 show the symbol of our serfdom to Uncle Sam?" 
 
 "I don't believe in wearing my heart upon my 
 sleeve, nor in being compelled to show my colors, 
 Captain Wallis," answered Granger, petulantly. "I 
 am on an errand for Mrs. Rutherford, and must 
 hurry." 
 
 "I only stopped you because if I don't a dozen will, 
 James, my lad. Follow my advice and example. 
 Swing your colors on the outer wall ! What's the odds, 
 my boy? they're the same for both sides!" and then 
 Granger realized that the captain had been dining 
 lavishly, for he swayed slightly and his eyes were 
 clouded. "For Mrs. Rutherford, said you, James, and 
 lo you return thither ?" 
 
38 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "Presently possibly, at least, Captain Wallis; and 
 now, if you'll excuse me " 
 
 "Not now so easily as I will a bit later, James, if 
 you happen to be there when I am announced. You 
 needn't mention it, of course, but just then, Jimmy, 
 you emulate your bi-bilical namesake, and be one 
 James the less. Pardon the bluntness of the soldier, 
 Jimmy. Au revoir" 
 
 But, in anger now, young Granger had brushed by 
 and disappeared among the moving groups along the 
 avenue. Wallis looked after him a moment, an almost 
 scornful smile on his handsome, highbred face; then 
 glanced at his watch and went sauntering southward. 
 He was in civilian dress, for even in those days one 
 rarely saw Harold Wallis in the garb of his profession 
 except on parade or officer-of-the-day duty at the Island. 
 Ever since the return of the Star of the West from 
 her luckless attempt to reinforce Major Anderson in 
 Charleston Harbor an unusual number of officers and 
 men had been camped or quartered about Fort Co- 
 lumbus and Castle William. Duty had been light, and 
 the officers had spent much time in town. They came 
 by twos or threes as a rule, the exception being in the 
 case of Wallis. He preferred to cruise alone. A fluent 
 talker, a man of travel, information, some reading, and 
 ready wit; gifted with a fine presence and admirable 
 self poise and possession; above all, with that quality 
 which tells in social as it does in business life, and which 
 we call push, Harold Wallis, despite his cynicism, his 
 apparent disdain of his profession, his brother officers 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 39 
 
 and especially his superiors, was more sought after in 
 society, bidden to more dinners and dances, than any 
 man of his cloth in that day and generation ; this, too, 
 after men at the Union Club had begun to "cold 
 shoulder" him, and others to look askance. He was a 
 favorite among the women, especially the younger 
 matrons, and that established him. "A squire of 
 dames" they called him in the Seventh. Earnest 
 amateurs were they at the old armory over Tompkins 
 Market, and liked not his lofty contempt or gay disdain 
 for all the details of the military art, the more so because 
 even his enemies in the Army, and they were many, 
 were fain to admit that he was a master. Wallis was a 
 brilliant officer, a rare commander on the drill ground 
 when he once drew sword, a graceful, admirable horse- 
 man, a keen shot with the old dueling pistols he cher- 
 ished among his possessions, an agile swordsman, a 
 rather friendly and considerate fellow among the young 
 officers, but a veritable thorn in the flesh of all the 
 seniors. 
 
 Even in the week of gloom that preceded the fall of 
 the flag at Sumter, Gotham was laughing over the story 
 told of Wallis and an irate, if only temporary, post 
 commander. The colonel, whom even Wallis held in re- 
 spect, had been summoned to Washington, and his man- 
 tle had fallen for the time, at least, on the shoulders 
 of a testy, yet most worthy veteran who couldn't bear 
 Wallis, nor could his buxom better half, and for excel- 
 lent reason. Both knew they were the butt of his shafts 
 of wit and ridicule ; both had many an ancient grudge 
 
40 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 against him, yet neither had ever been able to penetrate 
 the armor of his self esteem or to say or do a thing 
 potent enough to bear him the least annoy. The oppor- 
 tunity seemed to have come at last, however, when 
 Wallis, who had gone over to town right after inspec- 
 tion on the previous Sunday, failed to return that night, 
 and did not report his return until late Monday after- 
 noon, when he sauntered into the mess room accoutred 
 for parade. Everybody knew the major had marked his 
 absence at orderly hour. The morning report of his 
 company, too, was signed by the first lieutenant. The 
 post commander sent to see if he were at his quarters 
 and portentously left orders with the adjutant that 
 Captain Wallis should report to him in person the 
 moment he appeared. This order was duly intrusted 
 to the officer of the guard, and that efficient subaltern 
 kept his eye on every boat that landed at the dock 
 throughout the day, and was ready to swear Captain 
 Wallis was not on the Island, when, in full uniform and 
 utter unconcern, that gentleman issued from his quar- 
 ters and strolled to the mess. 
 
 "The major left orders you were to report at his 
 quarters the moment you returned, Captain Wallis," 
 said the adjutant, who loved him not. 
 
 "Did he?" said Wallis, poising a brimming glass of 
 sherry between him and the light, a pet trick of his 
 when assailed. "How thoughtless our youngsters are 
 becoming! Now, that is the very first intimation I 
 have received, and there goes the drum for parade 
 and likewise the major !" 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 41 
 
 "Didn't Hammond tell you?" queried the adjutant, 
 suspicious and unmollified. 
 
 "Hammond Hammond?" said Wallis, reflectively. 
 "Where should I be apt to encounter Hammond ?" 
 
 "At the dock on your return. He was ordered to see 
 every boat and not half an hour ago declared he had 
 done so." 
 
 "And didn't see me? Quite remarkable! Oh, ah, 
 Foster," he continued, in his imperturbable way, "what 
 time was it when you were so inconsiderate as to in- 
 vade my sanctum and rouse me from sleep?" 
 
 "Two o'clock," said the officer addressed, with ob- 
 vious disquiet. He had bounced in, confident that 
 Wallis was still away, and eager to confirm his theory 
 of Wallis's continued absence,, and there had found him 
 enjoying a siesta on his sofa, and had tiptoed back to 
 his own den, hopeful that he had been undetected, yet 
 much discomfited. 
 
 All the garrison folk seemed gathered at the edge of 
 the grassy parade that evening. The word had gone 
 forth that martial retribution awaited the debonair cap- 
 tain of the color company, and that the major meant 
 to overhaul him in the presence of the assembled officers 
 the moment the parade was dismissed. Indeed the ma- 
 jor's wife had said so to more than one, and was there 
 to supervise. The men in the long blue ranks wondered 
 why the major cut out so much of his favorite act of 
 putting them through the manual, and the plumed line 
 of officers as it marched to the front and flourished its 
 white-gloved fists in front of the burly commander, lis- 
 
42 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 tened with quickened pulses to the first words from his 
 lips as he acknowledged their salute. 
 
 "Gentlemen, you will remain a moment. Captain 
 Wallis, your permission to visit the city expired at mid- 
 night, I believe?" 
 
 "At midnight, Major Blunt," responded, with utter 
 suavity, a voice from the center of the group. 
 
 "You have been absent without leave then from that 
 time to this?" 
 
 "With the exception of a few unimportant hours, and 
 without your leave, yes, sir." And still was the 
 languid utterance placid and composed ; the manner 
 calm, imperturbable, yet almost insolent in its un- 
 concern. 
 
 "You failed to report at my quarters, as ordered, on 
 your return," said the major, bristling with rising 
 wrath. 
 
 "I must plead total ignorance of the honor of the in- 
 vitation, major." 
 
 "Didn't you see the officer of the guard?" was the 
 instant query. 
 
 "Once, at least, quite distinctly, major, as I passed 
 the dock. He appeared ah absorbed in receiving the 
 arrivals from town."* 
 
 "You mean you didn't land there?" demanded the 
 major, with sudden suspicion. "No boat is permitted 
 to land anywhere else, sir." And now in his just indig- 
 nation the honest old soldier was losing his head. "Do 
 you wish me to suppose you swam back, Captain 
 Wallis?" 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 43 
 
 "'I should rather you thought that, major, than that I 
 ah would be willingly absent without leave. Lean- 
 der, as you doubtless remember, swam the Hellespont. 
 Why should not I attempt the Buttermilk Channel if 
 need be?" 
 
 But the major didn't remember. Long years on the 
 frontier and in the line had left him innocent of classical 
 lore. There was but one explanation of this remark 
 Wallis was poking fun at him ; and the soul of the vet- 
 eran took fire at once. In vehement words, audible 
 even to the group of listening women under the trees 
 at the edge of the parade, he proceeded to stern and ring- 
 ing reprimand. He declared that the captain had put 
 intentional slight upon him as post commander. He 
 denounced his absence as unsoldierly and inexcusable. 
 He sharply forbade the captain to utter a word until he 
 had finished, for, perhaps purposely, Wallis essayed to 
 interrupt, and finally the major wound up by saying: 
 "Strictly speaking, you should be placed in arrest at 
 once, but as I am merely in command for the day, I 
 shall report and you can explain your misconduct to 
 the colonel himself to-morrow." 
 
 For an instant the silence that followed this impetu- 
 ous outburst was unbroken. Then, civil, courteous, 
 placid apparently as before, Captain Wallis finally 
 spoke. 
 
 "Is ah that all, major?" 
 
 "All, sir ? Yes, sir ; and a serious matter you'll find 
 it! That's enough for the present." 
 
 "As you please, major," responded the captain, 
 
44 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 calmly lifting his black-plumed "Kosciusko" and glanc- 
 ing inquiringly about him. Then, to the amaze of the 
 group, with polite interest in his tone, turned once more 
 to the irate soldier and languidly said : "I trust, major, 
 that ah Mrs. Blunt is well this evening." 
 
 It is hard to say who was the more amazed, the major 
 in command or the officers within hearing. The former 
 simply stood and glared a moment. Then with some- 
 thing between a sniff and a snort, turned abruptly away, 
 confounded. 
 
 The consensus of opinion on the Island was that Wal- 
 lis deserved instant trial for disrespect to his superior. 
 The confusion of the cabal of his opponents was inde- 
 scribable when, on the following morning, came a cour- 
 teous letter from the distinguished commander of the 
 Brooklyn Navy Yard. In hearty words he begged leave 
 to express his appreciation of the gallant and invaluable 
 services rendered by Captain Harold Wallis to some of 
 his men on Sunday night, and with the hope that the 
 captain had sustained no ill effects from his exposure 
 and involuntary plunge, subscribed himself the most 
 obedient servant of the commanding officer. 
 
 Then poor Hammond, who had been getting a rasp- 
 ing for not delivering an order to a man he had not seen, 
 asked for justice at the hands of the colonel on that 
 officer's return and got it. Wallis was sent for and 
 placidly explained that on his way to the Whitehall 
 Ferry, late at night, he heard sounds of mingled riot and 
 revelry ; found some sailors at the water's edge in a row 
 with the boatmen, "and got wet hauling one of them out 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 45 
 
 of the river." A boat shoved off from the Minnesota, 
 anchored off the Battery, and took them all aboard. 
 There Wallis spent the rest of the night until his clothes 
 were dried, and the ship's tailor in the morning had done 
 his best. Then the captain's gig, after breakfast, set 
 him ashore under the guns of the fort and close to his 
 quarters instead of at the stairs, for navy boats could 
 land where they pleased. Not until later was it known 
 that Wallis had swum to save a drowning blue- jacket, 
 helpless through drink, but his absence was fully ac- 
 counted for now. Asked why he had not explained it to 
 Major Blunt, he, with incomparable ease, replied that 
 the major had refused to listen, which was true. As 
 for the major's reprimand, Wallis did not say, but none 
 the less vividly showed, that it gave him no concern 
 whatsoever. 
 
 And this story was going the rounds of Gotham up 
 to the moment of the dread news that South Carolina 
 had loosed her guns on Sumter. Then it might have 
 been forgotten but for a something that took place this 
 very night at the Rutherfords'. 
 
 Just as Ethel said, Gerald had locked himself in his 
 room, a martyr to motherly anxiety and boyish despair. 
 Ever since the tragic death of her first-born Mrs. 
 Rutherford had seemed to cling with passionate inten- 
 sity to Gerald. Time and again by night she would 
 steal to his room and assure herself he was there and 
 safely sleeping. Time and again by day she would sit 
 and wait and watch for him, grudging the hours he gave 
 to college and to his few amusements, and taking com- 
 
46 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 fort in his association with the Seventh Regiment, 
 because there, at least, she could go and watch him at 
 drill. Never for a moment had it occurred to her that 
 in all that martial training there was purpose sterner 
 than mere pomp and parade, and her weakened heart 
 well nigh stopped short at the amazing news that the 
 regiment was ordered into active service that within 
 the week it might clash with Georgia. 
 
 "I tell you solemnly," said Dr. Tracy, to the almost 
 desperate boy, "it may kill your mother if you do not 
 promise her not to go." It seemed the next thing to 
 dishonor and disgrace, but he gave the promise on his 
 knees; then, refusing to be comforted, turned wretch- 
 edly away. It was something, at least, that almost at 
 the last moment Ned Barclay came bounding in, wildly 
 eager, to beg for Gerald's uniform and his place. They 
 had ten minutes' talk together alone, and then Barclay 
 was gone and poor Gerald had later buried his head 
 beneath the pillows that he might not hear the dis- 
 tant roar of cheers that rolled down Broadway with 
 the mighty striding column of that splendid com- 
 mand. 
 
 That evening he yielded to Ethel's pleading and let 
 her in. "You must come and see mother a little while," 
 she cried. "Lorna Brenham and Jim Granger have just 
 gone. I'm so sorry you couldn't see them and Captain 
 Wallis was here before they came, but he seemed so odd 
 excited flighty, I don't know what, and Mr. Hoyt 
 and he left together while I was taking Lorna up to 
 mother's room. Jimmy couldn't explain it. The cap- 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 47 
 
 tain seemed determined to see you. Has he has he 
 heard anything, do you think, of what was lost from 
 my bag?" 
 
 "It isn't that he came to tell," said Gerald, fiercely. 
 "I'll see him any time, and the sooner the better, and 
 I want to see Bernard Hoyt, he was Ralph's best 
 friend. I want to see him this very night. I must 
 see him !" 
 
 But neither Hoyt nor Wallis could Gerald see alone 
 that night. Ethel, with Lieutenant Hoyt, was seated in 
 the parlor, it seems, when Wallis was ushered in. They 
 had but just returned, and hardly had the senior officer 
 begun to speak when Hoyt turned quickly, and the keen 
 blue eyes looked him sternly over. Wallis winced un- 
 der the scrutiny and became even more elaborate and 
 effusive in speech and manner, much to Ethel's per- 
 plexity, for she little liked him. Then, when Miss 
 Brenham arrived he overwhelmed her with lavish greet- 
 ing and inquiries after kindred in the South, to the end 
 that she speedily broke away and begged to be shown at 
 once to Mrs. Rutherford. "Will you excuse me a mo- 
 ment ?" said Ethel to the three men, and left them in the 
 parlor. 
 
 Granger was there alone when she returned, and 
 Granger was visibly embarrassed, for no sooner had the 
 ladies left the room than Lieutenant Hoyt stepped up 
 to Wallis. 
 
 "Captain," said he, "my rooms are but a few steps 
 away in Eleventh Street. I have telegraphic orders to 
 be in readiness to report for special duty at once. There 
 
48 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 will be no time to-morrow, and what I have to say is 
 of importance. Will you come with me at once?" 
 Then, with quick, significant glance toward Granger, "I 
 cannot tell you here." 
 
 "Really Mr. ah Hoyt," began Wallis, swaying 
 slightly as he spoke, and the heavily fringed lids half 
 closing, "I should much prefer an hour hence." 
 
 "So you said the night of that episode at the Planters' 
 in St. Louis, Captain Wallis. Now I have a letter that 
 you should see " 
 
 "Oh, as you like as you like, Hoyt," answered 
 Wallis, airily. "Ah, Granger, dear boy, never mind 
 being James the Less just now. Oblige me by saying 
 to Miss Rutherford that I shall return in ten minutes. 
 After you ah Mr. Hoyt." 
 
 But at Hoyt's doorway stood Lieutenant Hammond 
 in uniform. "I have been searching the clubs for you, 
 Captain Wallis," said he. "You are ordered to report 
 to the Adjutant General at Washington without delay. 
 The orders came this evening." 
 
 "Poco tiempo poco tiempo, my dear fellow. Come 
 in come in with us, Hoyt's going to open his heart 
 and a bottle of Sillery. There's no train now 
 before morning, and that that'll never get through 
 Bal'more." 
 
 Hoyt turned on him like a flash, his blue eyes blazing. 
 "Who will stop it?" demanded he, "and how do you 
 come to know it? Mr. Hammond, I am not going to 
 open a bottle of Sillery, and you can see why ; but I'll 
 open my heart to this extent. I say to this officer," and 
 
A REPRIMAND SPOILED. 49 
 
 again he turned on Wallis "to you, Captain Wallis, 
 that those words shall be reported, verbatim." 
 
 And with the morrow they were verified. The road 
 was blocked, and Union troops were shot down in the 
 streets of Baltimore. 
 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A FAIR GEORGIAN. 
 
 LATE as was the hour when Lieutenant Hoyt re- 
 turned to Fifth Avenue, lights were still gleam- 
 ing in some of the old-fashioned mansions and many 
 people were adrift along the pavements, all in quest of 
 authentic news. The humid air was thick with rumors. 
 A little crowd had gathered in front of the Brevoort, for 
 there had started an exciting story to the effect that the 
 special train bearing the Seventh through the Jerseys 
 had been wrecked beyond Trenton, and Gotham was 
 ready to believe almost anything. 
 
 Busy at his desk, filing and sealing certain papers, 
 Hoyt had worked in silence full an hour after the de- 
 parture of Wallis and Hammond. It was characteristic 
 of the former that he should airily decline the company 
 of the latter and, in impressive dignity, he had sauntered 
 away under the ailanthus trees that bordered the curb. 
 
 "Report my language to whomsoever you will, Mr. 
 ah Hoyt," he had languidly said, in response to the 
 junior's indignant words. "It may serve to add force 
 to what I have already said officially in my ah effort 
 to rouse the Government to a realization of its peril. As 
 yet, sir, your Pennsylvania War Secretary hasn't got 
 
 50 
 
A FAIR GEORGIAN. 51 
 
 his eyes open a sort of week-old Keystone kitten, 
 Mr. Hoyt, and ah Mr. Hammond. However, for- 
 ty-eight hours will do it. Had you any ah further 
 communication from our estimable superior, the major, 
 Mr. Hammond? No? I am correct, I assume, in be- 
 lieving it to have been the major rather than the colonel 
 who sent you. It might interest him it may interest 
 you to hear that I knew all about it. In fact it is a 
 measure devised to relieve me from this daily contact 
 with the things I loathe at Governor's Island. Good 
 night to you, gentlemen," and so saying the captain had 
 touched his hat and turned away. 
 
 For all the mingled hauteur and insolence of his man- 
 ner, however, Wallis had been startled into sobriety. 
 The swagger had returned to the sway had gone from 
 his walk. His head was high, his demeanor un- 
 ruffled, his cane twirling jauntily as ever until he 
 reached the Avenue, where he paused a moment ; gazed 
 at the Rutherford mansion as though half bent on the 
 return he had promised ; then crossed to the east side, 
 where, out of sight of his fellow officers, he quickened 
 the pace and, hurrying through Eleventh Street to Uni- 
 versity Place, caught and boarded a Fifth Avenue stage, 
 southward bound. He had made a shrewd guess in 
 saying it was the major who sent in search of him, for, 
 still earlier in the evening the colonel commanding had 
 been summoned to meet a general officer of the army 
 at the Astor House, and Hammond made another 
 shrewd guess when, as they watched the tall form strid- 
 ing under the gaslight at the corner, he said, "Prince 
 
52 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Hal won't obey that order until he first reports at the 
 New York Hotel." 
 
 Hoyt made, for the moment, no response. His face 
 was grave and anxious. 
 
 "Why did the major think he might be here with 
 me?" he presently asked. 
 
 "He thought, rather, you might be with him. That 
 reticule business " began young Hammond, un- 
 comfortably. 
 
 "You don't mean to say that it is known at the 
 Island!" exclaimed Hoyt, spinning on his heel and 
 squarely facing the junior officer. 
 
 "Certainly. That fool brother of his was at the Le- 
 roys when Barclay was virtually accused. Wallis hasn't 
 opened his head about it that I know of, but Wallis, 
 Junior, blabs unconscionably. What makes us wrath- 
 ful is that he hints that Barclay is no longer received at 
 the Rutherfords that he's in straits that he's got to 
 get out of New York or into trouble." 
 
 "Trash!" said Hoyt, impetuously. "Barclay is a 
 gentleman. I've known his people for years. They 
 are poor now, perhaps, but he's straight as a string. 
 Moreover, he's gone with the Seventh in young Ruth- 
 erford's place. That looks little like a breach between 
 him and the family! Will you come in, Hammond?" 
 
 "I cannot. I must be back at midnight, but young 
 Wallis will be there occupying his brother's rooms. 
 Should he say or hint anything more " 
 
 "Say for me," broke in Hoyt, "that any reflection on 
 Mr. Barclay is tantamount to slander." 
 
A FAIR GEORGIAN. 53 
 
 Yet an hour later when the cavalryman came again to 
 the Avenue, even though he discredited the story of dis"- 
 aster to the Seventh, he was perturbed on Barclay's 
 account. It had not taken many days after his reaching 
 New York to learn how devoted that young gentleman 
 had been for months to Ethel Rutherford, and once 
 having seen her the tall slip of a girl he had left three 
 years before in long braids and short dresses, now a 
 sweet and stately damsel, the fairest of the winter's 
 debutantes, Hoyt could well account for that infatua- 
 tion. For several years the two lads, Barclay and Ger- 
 ald, had been chums at school and at college. The 
 business of Barclay, Senior, had prospered moderately 
 during the middle fifties, but after the November elec- 
 tion of 1860 had fallen away alarmingly. Most of his 
 correspondents were in the South, and Southern securi- 
 ties in the spring of '61 became unavailable assets. 
 Ethel, sole daughter of an old and wealthy family, a 
 beauty and a belle, was not a bride to be won by a pen- 
 niless suitor, said society. "Barclay was too near her 
 own age and the poorhouse," was the graceful epi- 
 gram in which Wallis had disposed of the subject; and 
 even while society laughed, it resented, for Ned Barclay 
 was universally liked, was one of the brightest spirits 
 of his day at Columbia, had stood among the fives of his 
 class, and had pulled Gerald Rutherford through more 
 than one examination. But he was dependent entirely 
 upon his father ; had no means whatever outside his al- 
 lowance, and found that allowance swiftly dwindling 
 at the very time he needed it most He was a youth 
 
54 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 of no vices, up to the time Wallis burst like a comet into 
 the firmament of New York society, and he had re- 
 nounced his chief hope and ambition at his father's stern 
 behest. As a youth his utmost longing had been to enter 
 West Point, and at that time his cadetship could have 
 been won without much trouble, but Barclay, the elder, 
 had an almost Quaker-like horror of the trade of war. 
 Not only did he set his foot firmly down on that aspira- 
 tion, but he even forbade, two years later, his son's 
 joining the Seventh. Gerald himself was a member, 
 yet Ned was forbidden to set foot within the armory. 
 Far better would it have been for son and father both 
 had his bent been indulged, for when Wallis came, he 
 brought among other letters three from Southern cor- 
 respondents whose wishes Barclay could not ignore. 
 He simply had to welcome Wallis and push him every- 
 where. 
 
 Wallis had not been slow to learn Ned's longing for a 
 military life, and frequent visits to Governor's Island 
 and the mess had followed. Also frequent dinners and 
 suppers with Wallis's set of Southern youth. Then 
 came the quick secession of State after State, and stories 
 of great disaster to the house of Barclay Brothers. 
 Then Ned Barclay's face began to grow white and hag- 
 gard and other stories were whispered on the Avenue. 
 Captain Wallis himself was becoming importunate in 
 his attentions to Miss Rutherford whensoever she met 
 him in society. He had never yet been bidden to the 
 house, for, despite her Georgia birth, or perhaps because 
 of it, Mrs. Rutherford from the very first had set her 
 
A FAIR GEORGIAN. 55 
 
 face against him, and that was long weeks before the 
 spirited encounter at the Leroys and his implied defense 
 of Hugh Preston he who had first insulted and then 
 shot her beloved son. Good heavens ! the last lines her 
 brave boy had written blurred by repentant tears, for 
 Ralph had caused her many an anxious hour she read 
 and re-read every day and night of her stricken life, and 
 wore ever upon her grieving heart. She could not bear 
 to receive the man who, while stationed in the South, 
 had been the intimate of Preston and others of his set. 
 She had turned indignantly upon poor Barclay when at 
 last she learned that he had frequently been Wallis's 
 guest she never knew at what solemn cost and then it 
 was, when Gotham would have it that Ned Barclay's 
 hopes were blasted and that Wallis would be the coming 
 man, that Ethel Rutherford had amazed society by 
 showing for the former a preference she had never 
 shown before. This, too, at a time when he seemed to 
 have become resigned to his misfortunes ! 
 
 "Coquetry," said the envious others. "She only 
 laughed at him so long as he wooed and sighed, but now 
 that he would hold aloof, she lures him back." Yet de- 
 liberate coquetry was a thing the pure-minded girl held 
 in abhorrence. For years as lad and lass they had been 
 frank, jolly boon companions, so long as she wasn't in 
 the way when he and Gerald were planning boyish 
 pranks. Later, while she was studying at Madame 
 Hoffman's and the boys at Columbia, they met less often. 
 Then came senior year for them, and "finishing" for 
 her, and then poor Ned, marveling that he had never 
 
56 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 seen it before, saw his fate and fell worshipper at her 
 feet. Now, when she would have rejoiced in the frank, 
 jolly friendship of the old days, he would none of it and 
 was full of sighs and sentiment, and so bored her inex- 
 pressibly. When at last, in a torrent of eager words, he 
 told her of his love, she chided, they were both too 
 young, she said and then when he waxed importunate, 
 she turned cold. Then came his troubles, his loss of 
 prospects, fortune and what all, and with it his with- 
 drawal from the field, and lo, she who had rebuked and 
 rebuffed, now sought, followed, even pleaded with him, 
 and had won him back to just one week of a Fool's' 
 Paradise, she was so grateful, she said, for all he had 
 done for Gerald and then, all on a sudden, Ralph's 
 old friend, Bernard Hoyt, appeared upon the scene, with 
 all the glamour of his soldier deeds clustering about his 
 unconscious head, a hero in spite of himself, for no man 
 ever had less self assertion, and before he had been a 
 week within the doors of the old mansion on the Avenue 
 there came a light in Ethel's eyes that Ned Barclay, jeal- 
 ously watching, had never seen before, and so he blessed 
 the chance that gave him Gerald's place upon the rolls of 
 Nevers's company and sent him within twelve hours 
 away to the front. At odds with his father, with fate, 
 with Wallis and the world at large ; with an indefinable, 
 yet undisproved accusation lying at his door, without a 
 word from Ethel, whom he deliberately avoided with 
 more than a word, a lingering hand clasp, a most un- 
 American and totally un-English embrace and a pledge 
 of undying faith and friendship from Gerald- with one 
 
A FAIR GEORGIAN. 57 
 
 shameful burden lifted from his shoulders, away went 
 Barclay to Washington and the war. 
 
 It was of Barclay more than of Wallis, and for the 
 moment more than of the startling military and political 
 situation, that Lieutenant Hoyt was thinking as, along 
 toward eleven o'clock he regained the Avenue and, see- 
 ing the excited little crowd in front of the Brevoort, 
 went thither at once to learn the news. By this time the 
 train disaster story had been disproved, but it had gone 
 far and wide, so anxious friends were constantly coming 
 with new inquiry. Among these latter were fathers of 
 families well known to Hoyt, and several appealed to 
 him with questions as to the possibility of treachery to 
 the Seventh en route to the capital. That they might 
 have stirring work after reaching Washington was well 
 understood. That they might have to fight their way 
 thither had not been contemplated for a moment. 
 
 "The Seventh," said Hoyt, reassuringly, "is quite able 
 to take care of itself." 
 
 "On the battlefield, yes," said an elderly man, whom 
 Hoyt recognized as Mr. Griswold, "yet one of your own 
 cloth, lieutenant, said in my hearing not ten minutes 
 ago that in the narrow streets of a city they would be at 
 the mercy of the mob." 
 
 "No disciplined troops under proper command were 
 ever at the mercy of a mob, Mr. Griswold," he answered, 
 firmly. "Who of my cloth could have said so ?" 
 
 "Captain Wallis," was the prompt reply. 
 
 Hoyt smiled. "That was probably at the New York 
 Hotel, and for Southern ears," said he. 
 
58 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "No. It was in front of the Rutherfords, and to 
 these gentlemen, who, like myself, have sons in the 
 Seventh!" 
 
 "Wallis at the Rutherfords! " began Hoyt, in as- 
 tonishment, before his better judgment controlled him. 
 It was barely two hours since he had succeeded, for good 
 and sufficient reason, in getting Wallis away from there. 
 Was it possible the captain could have found further 
 exhilaration at the New York Hotel or an excuse to 
 return? Five minutes settled the question. Hasten- 
 ing thither, Hoyt found a carriage waiting in front and 
 questioned the driver. Yes, he had brought Captain 
 Wallis and the captain had told him to wait. 
 
 A dim light was burning in the second story front 
 room Mrs. Rutherford's, but the lower story and base- 
 ment were dark. The shades were down in the third 
 and fourth story rooms, but Gerald's sanctum was evi- 
 dently alight and occupied, for twice a shadow passed 
 swiftly across the window. Somebody had moved 
 hastily between the gas jets and the shade. For a mo- 
 ment Hoyt stood there irresolute. After all, what 
 business was it of his? What right had he to dog 
 Wallis's footsteps? Dissatisfied and vaguely troubled, 
 he glanced about him. Some of the men he had left in 
 front of the Brevoort were already close at hand, and he 
 dreaded further questioning. Walking quickly to the 
 next street, he turned westward a moment ; waited well 
 over toward Sixth Avenue, until they had gone by, then 
 retraced his steps. The carriage, at the instant of his 
 return to the avenue, whirled about and drove rapidly 
 
A FAIR GEORGIAN. 59 
 
 south, and as he reached the door a dark form standing 
 in the shadow of the stone steps suddenly retreated 
 through the basement door. Marveling at this, as he 
 still hovered about the neighborhood, Hoyt heard the 
 front door violently open. Then a young man only 
 partially dressed sprang forth on the broad, free-stone 
 steps and the rasping din of a watchman's rattle burst 
 upon the night. A policeman went bounding bulkily 
 up the avenue, but Hoyt beat him half a dozen lengths 
 to the door. "Come in, for God's sake!" cried Gerald, 
 at sight of his face. "Something has happened to 
 mother !" 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 MRS. RUTHERFORD'S MALADY. 
 
 AT one o'clock that still April morning an anxious 
 party of kinsfolk and neighbors gathered in the 
 parlors of the old Rutherford mansion on the Avenue. 
 In the room above, Mrs. Rutherford's, lay the mistress 
 of the household, moaning at intervals, faint and only 
 half conscious. Beside her, pale, tearful, disheveled, 
 knelt her daughter. In low-toned consultation were Dr. 
 Tracy, for years the trusted physician of many of the 
 old Knickerbocker families, and a much younger man, 
 a rising practitioner of the modern school, Dr. Parker. 
 One or two maid servants flitted nervously about, ob- 
 viously as much in attendance on Hortense, the house- 
 keeper, as upon their mistress, for the housekeeper's 
 nerves, too, seemed to have sustained a shock. Upstairs 
 and down, now here, now there, restless and, as all could 
 see, unstrung, Gerald Rutherford was darting from 
 room to- room, searching he would not say for what ; 
 and in the dining-room, silent, alert, dignified, and busy- 
 ing himself after the fashion of the day, in serving 
 sherry and biscuit to the visitors, was Forbes, for more 
 than a decade the family butler and major domo. 
 Among the neighbors gathered in the parlor, discussing 
 in low tone the extraordinary event of the night, were 
 
 60 
 
MRS. RUTHERFORD'S MALADY. 61 
 
 one or two of the party that, two hours earlier, had been 
 in conversation with Lieutenant Hoyt at the Brevoort. 
 Hoyt, himself, had disappeared gone in quest of Cap- 
 tain Wallis was the explanation, for there was grave 
 reason why that officer and gentleman should appear 
 and account for himself. Unless the physicians were 
 utterly at fault, he, Wallis, was in some way the cause 
 of Mrs. Rutherford's severe and sudden prostration. 
 
 Just what had happened no one could say. This much 
 and only this much was known : Ethel had been with 
 her mother when, shortly after half-past ten, a carriage 
 stopped in front of the house, and they listened for the 
 sound of the gong that announced an arrival. They 
 heard Forbes swiftly ascend the stairs from the base- 
 ment and go to the front door, despite the fact that no 
 bell had summoned him, and then, peering through the 
 window, Ethel saw that several men were gathered on 
 the broad pavement in front, evidently in earnest talk. 
 Dim as was the light, she recognized in their midst 
 the tall, distinguished form of Captain Wallis, and, in 
 answer to her mother's nervous, excited question, told 
 her he was there. Presently Wallis raised his hat to the 
 knot of civilians, turned and looked up at the windows. 
 A moment later they heard his voice at the door. Won- 
 dering at his coming at so late an hour, Ethel darted out 
 into the hall and stood looking down over the balusters. 
 
 In quick, imperative tone Wallis made his request. 
 The languid drawl had vanished : "Forbes, say to Mrs. 
 Rutherford I must see her if only for a moment on a 
 matter of importance." 
 
62 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 With swift, catlike steps, Forbes had come aloft. 
 Ethel had again darted into her mother's boudoir, 
 alarmed and mystified. She heard the butler's deep 
 tone, formal and respectful, as he made the announce- 
 ment. 
 
 "Captain Wallis, ma'am, begs to see Mrs. Rutherford 
 for five minutes a matter of the utmost importance." 
 Even at the time Ethel noted the addition made by 
 Forbes to the message as given him. How came he, the 
 butler, to know, and knowing to say of his own motion 
 that it was a matter of the utmost importance? 
 
 "Show the captain here," to Ethel's surprise, was her 
 mother's prompt answer. "I wish to see Captain Wallis, 
 and by myself, Ethel," and the girl had barely time to 
 escape through the passage leading from her mother's 
 boudoir to her own room at the rear of the house. 
 
 Only some fifteen minutes did Wallis remain in the 
 boudoir. He came forth hurriedly, softly ; went down 
 the stairs with light and agile steps, he who was 
 usually so deliberate in every move. Then from the 
 hallway below Ethel heard his voice in low, yet impera- 
 tive tones: "Forbes, where is Hortense?" 
 
 "In the basement, sir. Shall I call her ? She has had 
 visitors." 
 
 "No. Lead on. I'll go with you," was the answer, 
 and that was all until Hortense was heard, in a very 
 few minutes scurrying up the stairs, and then came from 
 Mrs. Rutherford's room a cry of alarm. Rushing 
 thither, Ethel found her mother lying on the couch in 
 a deathlike swoon, Hortense bending and blubbering 
 
MRS. RUTHERFORD'S MALADY. 63 
 
 over her, just as the carriage door without was heard to 
 slam, and the vehicle drove swiftly away. Gerald had 
 come bounding from his mother's room, minus coat, 
 waistcoat and boots, and, panic-stricken at sight of his 
 mother's pallid face, and a disorderly array of papers 
 lying about her open desk, had rushed to the front door 
 and sprung his rattle to summon the only aid then avail- 
 able the police. 
 
 "My first thought was that she had been robbed," 
 he explained. "The desk was always kept locked, and 
 none of us ever saw the papers out before. Now they 
 lay scattered about the floor and she lay in a swoon. Of 
 course I called the watch and sent Forbes's boy for the 
 doctor, but Tracy got here before our messenger could 
 have gone half way came in the carriage in which 
 Wallis drove away Wallis it was who summoned him 
 and sent him in his own carriage." 
 
 Now, a singular fact in support of this statement was 
 that the carriage was yet there, after one o'clock in the 
 morning, after some of the elders had gone to their 
 homes, and while Lieutenant Hoyt was still away 
 searching for Wallis. The driver said he was waiting 
 for the doctor's orders and the doctor sent word he had 
 no further use for him. Then the driver said he wanted 
 his pay ; and the butler, being sent forth to settle with 
 him, came back and reported that the man demanded six 
 dollars, first for taking the captain and another gent to 
 the house, second for taking the captain and t'other gent 
 as far as Dr. Tracy's, third for bringing Dr. Tracy, and 
 finally for waiting two hours or so. The captain and 
 
64 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "t'other gent" had disappeared during the two or three 
 minutes which it took Dr. Tracy to get ready. 
 
 "Who was the other gentleman?" was the question 
 eagerly asked by Gerald when he in turn went out to see 
 the driver. But that was something the driver couldn't 
 tell. All he knew was that he wanted six dollars, and it 
 would soon be seven if they kept him ten minutes more. 
 Rutherford paid him and discharged him, after taking 
 his address, and then before the carriage was fairly out 
 of sight, whipping round a corner toward Broadway, 
 back came Lieutenant Hoyt in another vehicle. He 
 had gone all the way to Whitehall only to learn that 
 Captain Wallis had not returned had not even been 
 seen. 
 
 There was an old boatman in those days who was 
 frequently employed by officers returning late at night 
 to their quarters at Governor's Island, and Wallis was 
 one of his deities. Superior, even supercilious, as was 
 the captain's manner toward most of his associates, it 
 was kindness itself toward those in humbler station, just 
 so long as they seemed to recognize the difference in 
 their respective walks in life. He gave, too, with too 
 liberal a hand, dwarfing the largess of his brother 
 officers, much to the prejudice of good order, if not of 
 military discipline, but to the end that old Jasper and 
 his mates worshiped and were ever eager to serve him. 
 This devotion on their part had become intensified since 
 the episode of his midnight rescue of the drowning 
 sailor. Now Jasper well knew the unpopularity of Cap- 
 tain Wallis and therefore took delight in dilating upon 
 
MRS. RUTHERFORD'S MALADY. 65 
 
 his virtues in the presence and hearing of those whom 
 he conceived to be the captain's enemies. No man is a 
 hero to his valet, but one way to win the masses is to 
 offend the powers, and Jasper, though he had only twice 
 before seen Lieutenant Hoyt, scented danger to his 
 favorite. The very tone in which the young cavalryman 
 couched his inquiry told of menace. 
 
 Stripping a leaf from his pocketbook after satisfying 
 himself that inquiry was useless, Hoyt wrote as follows : 
 
 "CAPTAIN WALLIS: 
 
 "No train leaves for Washington before 6 A.M. Mat- 
 ters gravely involving your name have occurred at the 
 Rutherford house. Mrs. Rutherford is prostrated, and, 
 Dr. Tracy states, because of the disappearance of certain 
 important papers. For your own sake and that of the 
 service, I urge you to see the doctor and Mr. Gerald 
 Rutherford before you go. They will wait for you all 
 night if need be. I have left a similar message, sealed, 
 at the New York Hotel. BERNARD HOYT." 
 
 Folding this carefully, he handed it to Jasper and, 
 leading him to one side beyond the hearing of the hack- 
 man, there in low tone gave his instructions. 
 
 "Jasper," said he, "you are a friend of Captain Wallis 
 and would gladly do him a service. See that he gets 
 this note the moment he comes, and on no account let it 
 fall into other hands." 
 
 But, when questioned on the following day, Jasper 
 declared that Captain Wallis never came that way to the 
 Island during the night. At five in the morning, Mr. 
 Eugene Wallis, who had gone over shortly before mid- 
 
66 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 night, came back, bringing certain items of the captain's 
 kit, and stating that he was on his way to the Cortlandt 
 Ferry to meet his brother, who was to take the early 
 train for Washington. Contrary to the instructions of 
 Lieutenant Hoyt, Jasper placed the note in the younger 
 brother's hands. 
 
 The night, therefore, passed at the Rutherfords' with- 
 out further visit from Captain Wallis, nor had he again 
 been to the New York Hotel, for the sealed note re- 
 mained at the desk unclaimed. At dawn, wearied with 
 his long vigil, and leaving his patient at last in appar- 
 ently tranquil slumber, Dr. Tracy had returned to his 
 home. Ethel and a nurse remained in the room with 
 Mrs. Rutherford, but the former had been persuaded to 
 lie down and was trying to sleep. The servants had 
 finally gone to their rooms, yet lights were still brilliant 
 in the parlor where Gerald Rutherford paced nervously 
 to and fro, waiting for the coming of the man who never 
 came and for whom, late as four o'clock, Hoyt had again 
 inquired at the New York Hotel and, just as Tracy was 
 leaving, returned to report his quest unsuccessful and to 
 endeavor to learn more definitely, if possible, something 
 of the real cause of the night's alarm. 
 
 He and Wallis had never been friends. He more 
 than suspected Wallis of being a Southern sympathizer. 
 He knew him to have been a card player on "the Plains," 
 and had heard tales of high play at his quarters on the 
 Island and at certain resorts in town. He had been 
 told that Wallis was, not many months since, quite 
 deeply in debt, but never had he dreamed it possible that 
 
MRS. RUTHERFORD'S MALADY. 67 
 
 one of that old family and distinguished name could be 
 guilty of forcibly or fraudulently possessing himself of 
 valuable papers, yet, from all that could be gathered, 
 most important papers were actually missing from Mrs. 
 Rutherford's desk, and all over town the story had gone 
 that Ethel Rutherford had lost from her reticule the 
 previous Sunday letters, or something of that sort, on 
 which she set much value. Wallis had picked up the 
 reticule and brought it to the house. Wallis had been 
 alone with Mrs. Rutherford late that very night. Her 
 desk had all the appearance of having been rifled, and 
 it was not until the following day that she herself was 
 able to declare that she herself had opened the desk in 
 Wallis's presence and had tossed those papers about 
 while searching for others she needed to show him 
 others that, either then or earlier, had disappeared. Of 
 their nature she would not speak, even to Gerald and 
 Ethel, but Tracy gathered that they were connected 
 with Ralph's adventurous past, and in the hurried, 
 whispered conferences between brother and sister that 
 occurred at intervals during the night, this had been 
 accepted as explanation of her extreme agitation. 
 
 Forbes, the butler, vigilant and gravely sympathetic, 
 had come up from his den in the basement, as the doctor 
 descended the stairs, and with deep deference and con- 
 cern, had begged for better news of the mistress he had 
 so long served. 
 
 "Better, better, thank you, Forbes/' said Tracy. 
 "But we must guard her carefully against further shock. 
 Er you you were her brother's butler in Savannah, 
 
68 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 were you not, before his death? Did you ever ob- 
 serve " 
 
 "Not in Savannah, sir, except for occasional visits," 
 interrupted Forbes, with much deference, yet a certain 
 haste. "It was in Paris and Washington I had the 
 honor of serving Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " Ah, yes, I remember," said Tracy, as he stepped 
 forth from the vestibule, and at the head of the steps 
 encountered Lieutenant Hoyt returning from his un- 
 successful search. The two young men were in the 
 parlor a moment later, with Forbes hovering about in 
 respectful, assiduous attendance, just as the first pallid 
 light of dawn began to steal into the eastward sky. 
 With bewildered brain, Hoyt was trying to piece to- 
 gether all he had seen, heard and known of Wallis in 
 the past, and then, couple his conclusions with those 
 forced upon him by the events of the night. He 
 remembered only too well how Wallis had publicly, as 
 it were at the Leroys' table given out the insinua- 
 tion that Ned Barclay was the man who knew what 
 had become of Ethel's missing letters. He believed 
 that it was to speak of her murdered boy that Mrs. 
 Rutherford had conquered her antipathy to Wallis, 
 sufficiently, at least, to permit him to enter her bou- 
 doir, and that when Wallis left it fifteen minutes later, 
 he left the desk in a snarl of disorder and the mistress 
 of the house in a swoon. Hoyt knew, furthermore, 
 that when Wallis made his exit from the house it 
 was not by way of the front steps, but from under- 
 neath them through the basement door. He knew 
 
MRS. RUTHERFORD'S MALADY. 69 
 
 now that, all the time Wallis was within, a compan- 
 ion remained silent and concealed in the carriage. 
 Who could that have been? He remembered that as 
 he reached the house, after the carriage had driven 
 away, a dark figure was visible near the basement 
 door, but slunk quickly within at sight of him the 
 butler, probably but why should the irreproachable 
 Forbes have acted then as though unwilling to be 
 seen, when, now that he and Gerald had much to 
 say to each other, Forbes found means to busy him- 
 self about the room? 
 
 And then Hoyt recalled Wallis's remarkable words 
 the words he had resolved to report to their com- 
 manding officer as he had so notified Wallis the 
 words he had already spoken of to Rutherford the 
 prophecy that no train on the morrow would suc- 
 ceed in getting through Baltimore. What possible 
 knowledge could Wallis have of a plot to cut com- 
 munication with the threatened capital? Hoyt was 
 thinking especially of this had spoken of it to Ruth- 
 erford, still nervously and excitedly pacing the floor, 
 when the latter suddenly turned on Forbes, bidding 
 him to withdraw to his own room. Then, as with 
 low bow, the butler turned to go, all three stopped 
 short and Rutherford held up his hand as though 
 cautioning silence. 
 
 Far down the street, on the pulseless morning air, 
 shrill, boyish voices could be faintly heard uplifted 
 in exciting cry. Nearer they came and nearer, the 
 young street Arabs running rapidly in the effort to 
 
70 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 outstrip each other and herald their wares among the 
 homes of the residence district. Indistinct as yet, but 
 startling, were their cries, and the young men has- 
 tened out upon the broad stone steps in front. What 
 news of the Seventh now? was the thought uppermost 
 with each. 
 
 Full tilt across the Belgian pavement, waving a 
 paper in his grimy hand, a tattered little figure came 
 bounding from the block below, and then at last the 
 young harbinger of evil pealed forth his message to 
 a startled world. 
 
 "Extra Her'ld! Battle at Baltimore! Massacree 
 of the Sixth Massachusetts!" 
 
 And Gotham woke in desperate earnest now. 
 Where then was its precious Seventh? 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CLASHING AUTHORITY. 
 
 IN the brilliant sunshine of mid May the snow white 
 tents of a great regiment were gleaming on the 
 heights to the north of Washington. It was the hour 
 of the afternoon battalion drill, and a swarm of spec- 
 tators in carriages, in saddle and afoot, watched the 
 machine-like evolutions of the long gray-jacketed 
 lines and listened to the stirring music of the Seventh's 
 splendid band. Around Baltimore, by way of An- 
 napolis instead of through the grimy, hostile, 
 "tough"-infested streets, the first comers from the 
 Empire State, side by side with the men of the Eighth 
 Massachusetts, had safely reached the imperiled capi- 
 tal, and they were not happy over the change in their 
 projected route. The tidings that their comrades of 
 the Sixth, pushed ahead by special train from Phila- 
 delphia, and then compelled to quit their cars at the 
 eastern suburb and fight their way through the mob- 
 ruled city, had stirred in every breast a longing to 
 move at once on Baltimore and sweep its blackguard 
 element sole participants in the assault from the 
 face of the earth. But older heads had counseled 
 deviation from the route. Washington, the capitol, 
 
 71 
 
72 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 the President and cabinet were the first consideration. 
 Baltimore could be handled later. 
 
 For a day the Seventh had stacked its arms in the 
 marble corridors and chambers of the capitol itself; 
 had noted with keen appreciation the martial and 
 ringing voice of the gifted officer sent to muster them 
 into the service of the United States, and had well 
 nigh exploded with merriment over the vivid contrast 
 in mien, tone and manner of the soldier in charge of 
 the impressive ceremony and the civilian chosen, as 
 was deemed the proper thing in those earlier days, 
 to administer to the regiment, all and severally, the 
 solemn obligation that bound it to battle against all 
 enemies of the Republic whomsoever. With bared 
 right palms uplifted stood the long gray ranks, facing 
 in statuesque silence and gravity the queer little figure 
 that, book in hand, stepped a pace or two forward 
 from the group of officials; glanced nervously up and 
 down the lines, and then those lines shook and swayed 
 in the effort to subdue their almost irrepressible 
 laughter, when, in shrill, high-pitched, quavering 
 falsetto the little man piped forth, "The folloiving is 
 the oath." 
 
 And now, the observed of all observers, the famous 
 command was fairly in camp, and the gleaming bayo- 
 nets of its gray-clad sentries flashed in the slanting 
 sunshine those along the roadway, time and again, 
 coming to the "present" as officers of rank and dis- 
 tinction rode or drove in front of the westward posts. 
 And right here at the corner of camp nearest the 
 
CLASHING AUTHORITY. 73 
 
 dusty thoroughfare leading away toward the distant 
 roofs and spires of the city, an odd thing happened 
 this blithe May afternoon. 
 
 The sentry on Number 12, erect, alert and sol- 
 dierly, had halted and faced the roadway for about the 
 fortieth time since the posting of the second relief, 
 for another carriage came whirling toward him from 
 town, and two officers, followed by an orderly in the 
 yellow trimmed jacket of the cavalry, were riding in 
 close attendance. Up the line of sentry posts, north- 
 ward and mainly beyond the guard tents, spectators 
 in large numbers were watching the evolutions of the 
 regiment. The band for the time was silently await- 
 ing the next period of rest. At the head of each com- 
 pany street, seated on camp stools or sprawled about 
 the turf, was a little knot of gray-jackets, critically 
 observing the drill and watching the work of the 
 sentries, for even in those earlier days the Seventh 
 prided itself on its precision in guard and sentry duty. 
 Number 12 had come in for favorable comment time 
 and again his soldierly bearing and consummate 
 knowledge of the details of his duty being obvious to 
 all. The question was, "How did he get it?" for, as 
 the whole Sixth Company knew, Private Barclay had 
 never donned the uniform of the regiment until the 
 April day they marched away. 
 
 "I was corporal of his relief the first time he 
 mounted guard," said Van Dusen, corporal of com- 
 pany police, and excused because of that duty from 
 afternoon drill, "and he knew the ropes better than 
 
74 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 I did, but he explained it by saying he had so often 
 visited the camp at West Point and watched the 
 sentries at Governor's Island. He was forever going 
 over there." 
 
 "With that hee-haw Dundreary fellow Wallis," 
 broke in young Burnham, impetuously. "It galls 
 me, somehow, to have to salute him, and he's forever 
 riding out here. He and Barclay were thick as thieves 
 all the early spring. Now they don't speak." 
 
 "How can they, you idiot?" demanded Van Dusen. 
 "We're sworn into service on the same basis as the 
 rank and file of the regulars, and it's nothing but 
 salute and stand attention. Look you, now. Yon- 
 der comes the very man. Gad, but he can sit a 
 horse!" 
 
 And so for a moment all eyes were directed upon 
 the distant carriage, swiftly bowling up the dusty 
 road, upon its attendant cavaliers, upon the lone 
 sentry now standing at halt and "support," facing 
 squarely to his front. Even over the intervening hun- 
 dred yards the soldier spectators could not but see 
 that the equipage was one of the few really stylish 
 and well-appointed to be found in Washington at the 
 time. Coachman and footman were in livery, with 
 cockaded hats. A spotted coach dog trotted under- 
 neath. The open landau glistened with paint and 
 varnish and silver lamps and trimmings. The high- 
 checked, high-stepping team were blooded bays, and 
 what could be seen of the occupants under the lace- 
 fringed parasols told of wealth and station. Wallis, 
 
CLASHING AUTHORITY. 75 
 
 like Major Pendennis, often said he was so poor he 
 could afford to be seen with nothing less. 
 
 His spirited horse, curveting at the right of the 
 carriage, was guided and controlled by the lightest 
 touch of his bridle hand. Disdainful of the high- 
 pommeled Grimsley saddle, then the regulation for 
 officers' use, Wallis sat like a centaur in an English 
 pigskin, his riding trousers strapped down over the 
 dainty boot that peeped through the polished steel 
 stirrup. No black-hooded, cumbrous wooden block 
 for him, when within the confines of civilization. His 
 uniform frock coat, faultless in fit and style, was worn 
 with careless grace. 
 
 The French-made kepi that followed neither the 
 orthodox pattern of forage cap nor the newfangled 
 "McClellan" with its overhanging top and sloping 
 visor, sat jauntily over the right eye and brow, in 
 dashing defiance of the edicts of the War Department. 
 The skirts of his coat were at least a foot shorter than 
 the law allowed. His trousers, cut in the extreme of 
 the peg-top style then in vogue, were at least a foot 
 larger at the knee, and were dark instead of the pre- 
 scribed sky blue. From head to foot he looked the 
 beau sabreur the easy, debonair, almost insolent 
 cavalier, and from head to heel, decorated as was 
 the latter with flashing steel spur, he was a picture of 
 -soldierly style and unsoldierly contempt for regula- 
 tion. 
 
 But how was this? Unmistakable as was the form, 
 what was there unfamiliar in the uniform? Two 
 
76 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 days before, when Van Dusen was on guard, the 
 debonair captain had ridden jauntily along their 
 front, the sentries facing him and bringing their rifles 
 to the shoulder in deference to the single row of 
 buttons and the double bars of gold upon the glisten- 
 ing "rectangles." Now, to the surprise of these 
 soldier critics, Barclay's gleaming rifle was snapped 
 suddenly to the "present," and the explanation was be- 
 fore their eyes. The single-breasted frock had given 
 place to another, its glittering buttons in a double 
 row. Wallis, the gay, indifferent dawdler of the Isl- 
 and, the man perennially on the ragged edge of trial 
 by court-martial for neglect of duty or his superior 
 officers rode revealed before the astonished gaze of 
 the Seventh, the first of the coterie of "regulars" they 
 had seen about New York to receive promotion. The 
 gold bars had sprouted into golden leaves Wallis 
 had been made major of one of the new regiments 
 just organized by direction of the President, and the 
 more youthful rider, on the opposite side of the car- 
 riage, in the uniform of a subaltern of the same com- 
 mand, was Wallis's younger brother, Eugene. What 
 strange influence could have been at work that these, 
 whose haunts and habits were ever those of the gay, 
 reckless set of Southerners that for years had spent 
 their summers and their dollars at Saratoga, should 
 be among the very first selected for advancement in 
 the Union blue? 
 
 And now, facing these two, statuesque, soldierly 
 and in the field dress of a private of the Seventh 
 
CLASHING AUTHORITY. 77 
 
 Regiment, Ned Barclay stood with presented arms, 
 saluting the worst enemy he had ever known. 
 
 But the episode had not ended. A careless, me- 
 chanical lift of the hand, unaccompanied by even a 
 glance, was the major's recognition of the sentry's 
 salute as he cantered by. They who watched saw 
 that Barclay instantly resumed the shoulder, almost 
 before strict sentinel etiquette permitted; tossed the 
 gleaming rifle to the "slope" and with his eyes on the 
 brilliant little party, followed along his post. Then 
 it was that the oddest part of the odd thing hap- 
 pened. 
 
 The wind was blowing briskly from up the valley of 
 the Potomac, whirling little dust clouds from the 
 roadway across the sentry post, and a sudden puff 
 had caught a light, filmy veil from the head of one of 
 the ladies and borne it sailing through space, directly 
 within the guarded lines and straight in front of 
 the marching sentry on Number 12. Major Wallis, 
 whose bay was plunging excitedly at the moment, 
 did not see it, for it flew behind him. Eugene Wallis, 
 looking at the ladies as he rode, and jealously watch- 
 ing, too, the saluting sentries, reined up promptly 
 and, turning to the right, rode straight at the sentry 
 post, at the same time calling to the orderly to pur- 
 sue and capture the floating veil. It had fluttered to 
 the ground by this time about a dozen yards inside 
 the post of Number 12. The orderly, a veteran regu- 
 lar, glanced dubiously at the lieutenant and uncer- 
 tainly at the sentry, but thought it best to obey. 
 
78 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 To his end he spurred his horse at the low bank and 
 was brought up suddenly by the crash of Number 
 I2's bayonet coming to the charge and the ringing 
 order, "Halt!" 
 
 "That's all right, sentinel," shouted young Wallis 
 from his saddle. "I ordered the man to get that veil, 
 sir." 
 
 Back came the rifle to the shoulder, then snapped 
 to the "port." "Sorry, sir," was the uncompromising 
 reply; "my orders forbid it." 
 
 "Not when an officer assumes the responsibility, 
 sir," shouted the week-old lieutenant, angered and 
 reddening, and suddenly realizing to whom he was 
 speaking. "I order you, sir, to respect my authority 
 and let my man pass." 
 
 "I repeat, sir, my orders forbid it. You have no 
 authority here," was the sharp, sudden and not too 
 respectful answer, for well did Barclay know that a 
 sentry "took orders" from no subaltern except the 
 officer of the guard. So did the mounted orderly, 
 who sat motionless and trying not to look tickled 
 half to death at the boy officer's discomfiture. The 
 carriage had stopped several rods away. The ladies 
 were gazing and listening. The major, taking in the 
 situation at a glance, had trotted ahead toward the 
 guard tents where he could cross the lines unhin- 
 dered. It was not wise of him to go without first 
 calling off the callow lad in the bumptiousness of his 
 first uniform, and Eugene made the blunder of his 
 life. 
 
CLASHING AUTHORITY. 79 
 
 In his ignorance of the sentry's prerogative he 
 chose to think that Barclay was seizing the oppor- 
 tunity to brave and belittle him before the eyes of 
 society and so avenge, in part, the injuries dealt by 
 the words and deeds of his elder brother. Furiously 
 digging the spurs into his mettlesome charger's 
 flanks, he drove straight at the sentry. In an instant 
 the shout for the corporal of the guard went ringing 
 down the line, and the lookers-on sprang to their feet 
 in time to see the flashing bayonet again slapped down 
 to the charge. Deaf to the lieutenant's wrathful or- 
 ders, disdainful of upraised whip or on-coming steed, 
 the sentry of the Seventh stood his ground like a rock, 
 and the shining steel dug deep in the glossy brown 
 shoulder before the abused and innocent victim could 
 check his own way. Then as the whip came down, 
 the blood-dripping bayonet was tossed on high, parry- 
 ing the stroke, and then came the corporal and a file 
 of the guard, running at speed to the scene. 
 
 After them came their officer. After him, at swift 
 trot, with genuine concern in his sombre eyes, Major 
 Wallis. The veil was forgotten. Sinewy hands seized 
 the bridle reins and backed horse and rider to the 
 roadway. 
 
 "Eugene Eugene!" said Wallis, in evident dismay, 
 "dismount at once and look to your horse. Gentle- 
 men, I beg you to overlook my brother's error. He 
 shall make every amend. He really did not know he 
 should not force a sentry post. Your sentry did per- 
 fectly right. I make you my compliments, sir," said 
 
8o A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 he, raising his cap and for the first time looking at 
 and fairly seeing Number 12. Then, on a sudden, the 
 flash went out from his eyes, the flush from his cheeks. 
 "Good God Barclay you!" 
 
 For a moment not another word was spoken. With 
 the blood spurting from his maimed shoulder the bay 
 stood quivering before them; his rider, white with 
 rage and humiliation, slowly, reluctantly dismounting. 
 Far up the field the regiment, in compact column of 
 division, had just stacked arms for a brief rest, and the 
 band began a spirited selection from a favorite opera 
 of the day the "Ballo in Maschera." From the 
 guard tents a few soldiers, drawn by curiosity, came 
 a little distance and stood silently, intently watching 
 the group in front of Number 12. They saw the major 
 still in saddle, his horse switching nervously about, 
 while the skilled rider's eyes were fixed in evident 
 amaze and some chagrin on the stern, set face of Ned 
 Barclay, who for his part, finding himself addressed, 
 coolly assumed once more the position of port arms, 
 looked straight before him into space and answered 
 never a word. 
 
 By this time Eugene Wallis had slid his hand along 
 the rein and, with hatred burning in his eyes, stood 
 glaring at Barclay, ignoring utterly the plight of his 
 beautiful steed. So engrossed were the entire party 
 by the scene at the spot that none noticed the swift 
 approach of a slender young officer in the uniform of 
 the cavalry. Paying no heed to any man present, he 
 had leaped from saddle; tossed the reins to his orderly 
 
CLASHING AUTHORITY. 81 
 
 and, brushing young Wallis aside with but scant 
 apology, bent, looked one instant at the jetting 
 wound; then straightened up; glanced eagerly about 
 him; pointed to a near-by fence where, in the slanting 
 sunbeams, something was glistening and shimmering; 
 then spoke in quick yet quiet tone of command to 
 the corporal and his men. 
 
 "Fetch me a handful of those cobwebs," said he, 
 and at the sound of his voice the soldiers darted away, 
 while Wallis, in saddle, whirled suddenly about and 
 glared. 
 
 "What ah you, too, Mr. ah Hoyt!" he be- 
 gan, with quick resumption of the old, insolent drawl. 
 "We are dealing in ah surprises, it seems, this 
 ah afternoon." 
 
 With no more reply than had been accorded by the 
 sentry, Lieutenant Hoyt turned and stood pressing 
 together the lips of the wound. Then, as the guard 
 came hurrying back, took from their outstretched 
 hands a quantity of the filmy web; rolled it into a 
 wad; clamped it firmly against the horse's shoulder 
 with both hands, briefly saying to young Wallis, 
 "Hold him steady a moment." 
 
 "Er ah Eugene, when the bleeding is ah 
 stanched you will find us ah with the Secretary's 
 party. The ladies are probably getting impatient. 
 Mr. Officer-of-the-Guard, I regret this unhappy ah 
 accident, and so does my brother, who is ah per- 
 haps too much overcome to speak. Good evening, 
 sir," and the major rode airily away. 
 
82 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 ''Good day, Major Wallis," answered the New 
 York lieutenant, with cold civility and a perfunctory 
 touch to the cap visor. Then turning to the scowling 
 junior, who was quivering with suppressed rage, said, 
 "I shall have to trouble you for your name and ad- 
 dress, sir." 
 
 ''Lieutenant Eugene Wallis, - teenth Infantry, 
 Regular Army," was the answer, in ruffled but im- 
 pressive dignity. "I am responsible personally, sir," 
 he added, with painful imitation of the manner of the 
 men he had most assiduously studied, "personally, sir," 
 he continued, "for anything I may have said or done. 
 The insolence of your sentry, sir " 
 
 "My sentry, sir, made only one slip," was the in- 
 stant rejoinder. "Your own brother bears him out. 
 Personally, sir, I regret that he bayoneted the horse. 
 It should have been you." 
 
 In a fury now, Wallis the younger whirled on this 
 new tormentor. "By God, sir!" he cried. "I can't 
 stoop to words with a contemptible private, but 
 you at least w r ear the badge of an officer and 
 a gentleman. I'll hold you personally account- 
 able- 
 
 "You'll be held officially accountable," sharply 
 broke in Lieutenant Bronson, of the Seventh, spring- 
 ing back a pace, his hand at his sword hilt, for 
 in his blind rage Wallis's whip was once more up- 
 lifted. 
 
 But it never fell. A hand a very bloody hand 
 quickly seized it from the rear, and then a voice a 
 
CLASHING AUTHORITY. 83 
 
 very quiet voice but a very stern one said: "Let go 
 that whip, Mr. Wallis, and then follow your brother 
 in arrest." 
 
 For a moment there was utter silence. Then, 
 stunned and startled, yet bent on making brave show 
 to the last, young Wallis, with twitching lips, turned 
 savagely on the speaker. 
 
 "I'm not under your command, Lieutenant Hoyt. 
 You can't place me in arrest." 
 
 "Another exhibit of your ignorance, Mr. Wallis," 
 was the placid reply, as the blue-eyed young caval- 
 ry-man stepped forward, his dripping hands out- 
 stretched. "I saw you threaten and abuse a sentry 
 and then raise a whip at an officer in the discharge 
 of his duty. My first thought had been to look after 
 this horse you so misused. Now, as Mr. Bronson may 
 be unaware of his prerogative, or unwilling to use it 
 on a week-old regular, I shall use mine. By the ar- 
 ticles of war all officers have power to quell all quar- 
 rels, frays and disorders, whether among persons 
 belonging to their own or to another corps. Pardon 
 my preaching, gentlemen of the Seventh, but the 
 occasion calls for a lesson 'and to order officers into 
 arrest/ as I, sir, order you," and with that Hoyt 
 turned squarely on his junior, the cause of all the 
 trouble. 
 
 Then suddenly, the men of the Seventh, sentry and 
 all, once more stood at salute, for Major Wallis had 
 come trotting back. 
 
 "What delays you? What has occurred, Eugene?" 
 
84 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 he asked, in sharp, imperative tone, so unlike the 
 drawl and dawdle he affected in society. 
 
 "Ask this man," was the sullen answer, as 
 Wallis indicated with a mere gesture, Lieutenant 
 Hoyt. 
 
 "I have ordered your brother under arrest, Major 
 Wallis," said Hoyt, speaking slowly and distinctly, 
 and looking squarely up into the burning eyes of the 
 handsome horseman. "He abused and threatened a 
 sentry and attempted to lash the officer of the guard. 
 These gentlemen are inexperienced, possibly, in such 
 matters. You and I are not." 
 
 "Then here and now, Mr. ah Hoyt, I counter- 
 mand your order and assume, as your superior, all 
 responsibility in the premises." 
 
 It was an awkward moment. Here was a palpable 
 clash of authority between representative officers of 
 the regular army in the presence and hearing of 
 officers and men of the nation's most famous regi- 
 ment of citizen soldiery. Bronson, looking as though 
 he knew not what to do, stood in silence, his hand still 
 at the sword hilt, his eyes glancing first at one, then 
 the other. Barclay, as sentry, no longer addressed or 
 addressing, looking as though he knew just what to do 
 and was longing to do it but for the iron rules of the 
 service, had resumed the "shoulder" and stood like a 
 statue. The corporal and his party had withdrawn 
 a pace or two, one of the number replacing Hoyt and 
 continuing the effort to stanch the flow of blood, but 
 one and all started as though with sudden shock; 
 
CLASHING AUTHORITY. 85 
 
 then stood staring at Hoyt as the answer came, stern, 
 sharp and cutting. 
 
 "You are in no position, Major Wallis, either to 
 order or to counter-order. You were directed not an 
 hour ago to report in person to the adjutant general to 
 answer to the charge laid at your door that of conduct 
 unbecoming an officer and a gentleman." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. 
 
 WITH commissions in the regular or volunteer 
 army awaiting nearly half its membership, the 
 Seventh was sent home at the end of a month. The 
 danger was over for the time being. The seventy-five 
 thousand, and more, had answered the call. Washing- 
 ton was a military camp, of all manner of soldiers, in 
 every conceivable kind of dress and equipment and 
 grade of discipline. Baltimore was subdued, but seeth- 
 ing, and in both cities the friends of the South of "the 
 States in rebellion" were as active, hopeful and, 
 among residents at least, well nigh as numerous as were 
 those of the Union. Across the Potomac the stars and 
 stripes floated over the parapets of Fort Runyon many 
 a blistered palm had the Seventh to show for its spade 
 work on the sacred soil while the stars and bars 
 fluttered in full view of the capitol over the roofs of 
 Alexandria. The rabble of Gotham, ever at odds with 
 what it called its "shanghai" regiment, shouted derision 
 at its return the ignobile vulgus and the unthinking in 
 better station professing to believe that these who were 
 able to instruct and command should have stayed to 
 fight in the ranks. The War Department knew better. 
 
 86 
 
A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. 87 
 
 Men fit for soldiers could be found by the hundred thou- 
 sand. Officers qualified to teach and discipline, to lead 
 and drill the vast levies soon to be raised, even for the 
 new regiments of regulars, were so few in proportion 
 to the crying need that the government was eagerly con- 
 ferring commissions on soldiers of fortune from the 
 ranks abroad, sergeants from the ranks at home and 
 civilians by the score from many a city. The Island 
 became a bustling, swarming school for newly ap- 
 pointed officers. Their white tents dotted the green- 
 sward within and the glacis without old Fort Co- 
 lumbus, and the tall, martial colonel in command 
 the one man to whom Harold Wallis had ever shown 
 the faintest deference during his six months' sojourn 
 at the post was the soldier at whose desk so many of 
 the Seventh, Ned Barclay among them, made their first 
 report in their brand-new uniforms as subalterns of the 
 regular service. He was far too fine and distinguished 
 a man in his profession to long remain at duty so incon- 
 spicuous. With the stars of a general officer on his 
 shoulders he was sent to the West, saying to his suc- 
 cessor as he was escorted across to the ferry, "Do me 
 one favor, Blunt. Look out for young Wallis. I 
 promised the mother to watch over both her boys and 
 you know what a time I've had." 
 
 Blunt, however, only half knew. It had taken all the 
 influence of certain Senators, all the pleadings of cer- 
 tain old army friends of the Wallises men who loved 
 the memory of the father, killed fighting gloriously in 
 the Mexican War and all the persuasive powers of 
 
88 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Major Wallis himself to induce the irate adjutant gen- 
 eral to recommend to the War Secretary that the 
 numerous charges against him be "pigeon-holed" he 
 would not recommend their being entirely dropped. 
 Simon Cameron himself would speedily have surren- 
 dered to the pleasure had not Lorenzo Thomas, head of 
 the adjutant general's department, stood stanchly to his 
 guns. The charges against Wallis had come in fast and 
 furious some from responsible and urgent patriots, 
 prominent citizens of Gotham some mere rabid froth- 
 ings of sensation and scandal lovers. "Holding treason- 
 able intercourse with the enemy," "being an active 
 sympathizer with the South" and "corresponding with 
 Southern officers and families" were serious enough to 
 call for explanation, but when Bernard Hoyt supple- 
 mented these, as he did, with a written statement re- 
 garding the disappearance of certain letters of Miss 
 Rutherford's from her silken bag and of important 
 papers from Mrs. Rutherford's desk, presumably on the 
 occasion of Wallis's midnight visit to her boudoir, the 
 adjutant general felt that prompt action was demanded 
 and sent an orderly with a note directing the major to 
 report to him in person at once. 
 
 Wallis had planned that afternoon to waylay the car- 
 riage of a most influential and distinguished woman, 
 daughter of a Cabinet Minister and a power in social 
 circles. He wished to present his younger brother and 
 secure her interest in his behalf, and conceived that in 
 no way would Eugene be so apt to make a favorable 
 impression as in saddle. It was there the brothers 
 
A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. 89 
 
 looked their best. It was without surprise, but with 
 airily concealed annoyance, that he received the gen- 
 eral's mandate and, after reading it, signed the receipt. 
 He dared to consider it too late in the afternoon for 
 office hours ; tossed the note aside to be obeyed on the 
 morrow and, at the very moment when the adjutant 
 general sat at his desk in the dark old War Department 
 building of the early sixties, awaiting Wallis's coming, 
 that debonair officer cantered buoyantly away to the 
 northward suburbs, and Thomas waited in vain. For 
 this reason had the major's reception on the following 
 day been frigid in the last degree. 
 
 But if Thomas was icy Wallis was not, when told 
 of the charges against him. He had, of course, de- 
 manded explanation of Hoyt at the camp of the Sev- 
 enth and in the presence of Bronson, Barclay and the 
 others present at the moment. "The matter is in the 
 hands of the Adjutant General, sir," was that officer's 
 reply, "and full explanation awaits you there, where 
 you should be at this instant instead of here." 
 
 For reasons of his own Wallis had believed that the 
 charge to which Hoyt referred was in some way con- 
 nected with Barclay. Not until he appeared before the 
 General did he find that in nowise was Barclay men- 
 tioned. But for one thing he would have gone in search 
 of Lieutenant Hoyt the moment his interview with 
 General Thomas closed. A soldier of the old school and 
 of the old army, his first thought was to "call him out" 
 and if possible shoot him, but the thing that prevented 
 was his being sent summarily to his quarters in arrest, 
 
90 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 and there for five days and nights had he to stay 
 until powerful friends and the War Secretary pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 Confident of the major's guilt and believing that all 
 necessary and incriminating evidence could be forth- 
 coming, Hoyt never foresaw the possibility of his 
 charges being "turned down." A man of almost puri- 
 tanical purity of life, of most delicate honor and gifted 
 with a sense of duty almost abnormal, Hoyt had long 
 looked upon Wallis as an officer whose influence in army 
 circles w r as bad throughout, and it was a peculiarity of 
 his nature a flaw, if you will that w 7 here he saw so 
 much to condemn he could find nothing to approve. 
 The two had been antagonistic from the start, and the 
 breach had been widened irreparably by an episode at 
 St. Louis only the year before. A court-martial at 
 Jefferson Barracks was sitting in judgment on the 
 actions of a certain officer of the supply department, and 
 Hoyt had been called thither as a witness. On the 
 steamer from Leavenworth, down the Missouri, he was 
 surprised to find the young and winsome wife of a 
 senior officer whom Hoyt held in much esteem much 
 more than he felt for her and on arrival of the steamer 
 at St. Louis he was not surprised to see Harold Wallis 
 on the levee, first man to board the boat as the stage- 
 plank lowered. 
 
 What passed between the two men later at the Plant- 
 ers' was known only to themselves. What passed be- 
 tween Hoyt and the clerk just before that meeting was 
 known to many. Hoyt had entered the office of the 
 
A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. 91 
 
 popular old hostelry, much frequented of army folk 
 in the days before the war ; had glanced over the regis- 
 ter, then turned sharply on the clerk. "Captain Wallis 
 is here," said he. "Have the goodness to show me to 
 him or send that card." 
 
 "The captain is not registered," was the reply, yet 
 there was hesitation in the manner of the speaker, but 
 none whatever in that of the officer as he took up the 
 word. "I see he is not registered, yet I know he is 
 here. Send that card at once, if you please." 
 
 The darky bell-boy came back in a moment. "De 
 capt'in says he's engaged and would prefer to see the 
 gem'man an hour later." 
 
 "Show me to him wherever he is," was Hoyt's in- 
 stant response, and, scared, the servant led the way to 
 a little annex to the ladies' parlor, where Hoyt dis- 
 missed him, entered and found Wallis pacing the floor, 
 impatiently awaiting another coming. The door closed 
 behind him and the darky heard nothing further. He 
 saw, however, a lady coming tripping down the corri- 
 dor; saw her open that door as though to enter; saw 
 her stop short, turn abruptly, and hurry back to her 
 room. He told his fellows her face was like a rose the 
 first time she passed him and like chalk the second. 
 Then presently the parlor bell rang, and when the boy 
 went thither for the third time the captain was pacing 
 up and down excitedly, and the lieutenant sitting back 
 on the lounge "lak he was goin' to stay all night," and 
 the lieutenant took out his card case and said, give his 
 card and his compliments to the lady, and he'd wait 
 
92 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 her convenience to see him. At the barracks, whither 
 the story flitted within a day, it was conceded that Hoyt 
 had simply "sat Wallis out." No wonder the latter 
 hated him. 
 
 And now the two had clashed again. 
 
 "Wallis will challenge Hoyt the moment he's re- 
 leased," said one who knew Wallis well, and said it to 
 the venerable Pennsylvanian at the head of the War 
 Department. 
 
 "I'll make it a condition of his release that he refrain 
 from anything of the sort,"^said Cameron. 
 
 "Then he will publicly insult Hoyt and force him 
 to challenge," said the staff officer, for the day of the 
 duello had not yet closed. 
 
 "Fll see to that/' said Lorenzo Thomas; and to 
 Wallis's keen chagrin he found on his release that Hoyt 
 had been sent a thousand miles away on a mission to 
 buy mules and mounts by the thousand. Not until after 
 Bull Run was Hoyt recalled from the West, and by that 
 time matters of far greater moment had closed on 
 Harold Wallis. The one man he loved, his boy brother 
 Eugene, stood, if caught, in peril of his life. 
 
 There had been the very devil to pay, as the major 
 put it, at the officers' mess on the Island. Reporting 
 there as ordered, and, finding among his new associates 
 Barclay, and comrades who cold-shouldered him from 
 the start, Eugene Wallis had adopted toward them a 
 bearing of haughty and almost insolent defiance, and 
 had speedily become conspicuous for neglects of duty 
 and protracted absences. It was found that he was 
 
A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. 93 
 
 spending nights at the New York Hotel when he should 
 have been at his quarters ; that his associates in the city 
 were almost exclusively of the Southern set; that his 
 most intimate friend in society was Jimmy Granger; 
 and Major Blunt took occasion to warn him that he was 
 laying himself open to sharp criticism. Eugene flushed, 
 but had been well coached. For the time at least he 
 curbed tongue and temper and asked for further in- 
 dulgence later in the day. It was reluctantly given, 
 with a "rider" to the effect that he must return to the 
 post by midnight. He did not come until reveille, and 
 was then given to understand that not for a week would 
 he be permitted to leave the Island. 
 
 Two days later, among the visitors arriving at n 
 o'clock, were two young ladies chaperoned by a society 
 leader of Southern birth and escorted by Granger and 
 a man of middle age, obviously no Northerner. They 
 asked for and were shown to Mr. Wallis's tent, and 
 found that young gentleman in his best uniform ready 
 to meet them. Very natty looked the second lieutenant, 
 even in that queer, clerical, single-breasted frock then 
 worn by company officers throughout the service very 
 handsome, too, if a bit boyish and Lorna Brenham's 
 beautiful eyes softened at sight of him. Hard, defiant, 
 disdainful, they had flashed like the bayonets of the 
 guard when she and her party were politely requested 
 to state their names and business at the landing. The 
 officer of the guard, a newcomer, but a keen one, 
 glanced quickly from his note-book as Granger gave the 
 replies, and, sending a drummer to show them the way ? 
 
94 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 the officer wrote a line to the post adjutant, which he 
 sent by another. 
 
 Major Blunt was at the moment in conversation with 
 his staff officer, and his eyes kindled at the latter's quick 
 announcement. "Wallis has visitors young Granger 
 with them. One of the ladies is that beautiful Miss 
 Brenham, of Georgia secesh to the backbone." 
 
 The major stepped out in front of the dingy old 
 building that in those days served as post headquarters. 
 Sauntering along the shaded walk in the afternoon 
 sunshine came a picturesque little party two attractive 
 young women, most stylish in garb. The foremost, a 
 brilliant picture of Southern brunette beauty, was lean- 
 ing on the arm of young Wallis. The second seemed 
 well content with the attentions of the middle-aged 
 stranger, unmistakably Southern in dress and language. 
 Third in column came the duenna, escorted by Mr. 
 Granger the one man of the three obviously dissatis- 
 fied with the situation. They passed so near the com- 
 manding officer that every word of their talk was 
 distinctly audible. Indeed, so far as the ladies were 
 concerned, it would seem as though they intended that 
 such should be the case, for Miss Brenham's silvery 
 tones were uplifted beyond the usual pitch. They 
 passed so near that it was the soldier duty of Lieuten- 
 ant Wallis to salute his post commander, but it pleased 
 that young gentleman to fix his eyes and attention on 
 Miss Brenham's glowing face and to utterly ignore his 
 superior. Chatting volubly, Miss Brenham sailed by 
 with only one brief, almost contemptuous, glance at the 
 
A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. 9$ 
 
 glowering major. The distinguished-looking South- 
 erner who came second looked hard at the official and, 
 moved by a spirit of courtesy and probably by soldier 
 instinct, lifted his broad-brimmed Panama and bowed 
 with grave dignity. Granger, a Gothamite, and the 
 supervising matron, sedulously looked the other way 
 and would not see him. 
 
 "By God, Mr. Webb," said the angry officer, to his 
 right hand man, as he turned and re-entered the office, 
 "I won't be braved here in my own bailiwick by no- 
 torious rebel sympathizers. Do nothing discourteous, 
 of course, but as soon as possible send young Wallis 
 here and let those others rest awhile out there under the 
 shadow of the flag. To think that young jackanapes 
 should put on such impudent airs when he knows well 
 I have condoned all manner of misdoing! Now, by 
 Jove, I'll have to give him a lesson, if he is a Wallis!" 
 
 Ten minutes later as the sextet came sauntering back, 
 laughing and talking animatedly, excitedly, the tall, 
 bearded adjutant met them and, raising his cap, bowed 
 with much empressement before Miss Brenham. She 
 knew him well. They had met at a dozen dinners or 
 parties during the winter. She had liked him well, too, 
 but it was now her humor to accord him but a haughty 
 and distant greeting. 
 
 "Your pardon, Miss Brenham," said he, "I am come 
 to play substitute a few minutes, for Mr. Wallis is 
 needed at the office. Mr. Wallis will report at once to 
 Major Blunt, and during his absence, by your leave, 
 I will be guide. Should you like to see the Castle? 
 
96 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 There will be time, you know, before the next boat for 
 town." 
 
 "The prison part of your fortifications, I believe, Mr. 
 Webb," said she, almost pointedly ignoring the prof- 
 fered arm. "Why should you fancy we care to see the 
 dungeons? That is the one part we have no present 
 use for. Why, pray, does Major Blunt select this time 
 to send for Mr. Wallis? I had still more to say to him 
 before we returned." 
 
 She looked daringly into the tall adjutant's eyes, as 
 she spoke. 
 
 "That, Miss Brenham, may be the very reason," was 
 the significant reply. 
 
 Meantime in the office Mr. Eugene Wallis was get- 
 ting his first sharp official wigging and any one could 
 see that Blunt was well wrought up. He was tramping 
 up and down the bare little room as was his wont when 
 excited, and laying down the law in vigorous Anglo- 
 Saxon. Finally he stopped short and faced the visibly 
 angering junior. 
 
 "For the old name's sake, Mr. Wallis, I have shown 
 you more indulgence than any officer at the post, and 
 you reward it by rank discourtesy. You passed me 
 ten minutes ago without the faintest recognition. 
 What possible excuse have you?" 
 
 "Among Southern gentlemen, sir, a lady takes pre- 
 cedence. Miss Brenham was speaking to me, and under 
 such circumstances gentlemen shouldn't expect to be 
 recognized," was the amazing reply. 
 
 Blunt's eyes nearly popped from their sockets. His 
 

 A SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. 97 
 
 face turned purple as his old sash. The veins swelled. 
 The hands clinched. The table shook with the force 
 of his wrath. Then at last "fierce he broke forth" : 
 "Well, of all the Go to your tent at once in close 
 arrest, sir!" 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN ARREST EVADED. 
 
 F I^O hear Lorna Brenham's vehement account of 
 JL that day's visit to the Island, as told in many a 
 gathering of sympathetic friends and fellow South- 
 erners, and even in the parlors of such tolerant house- 
 holds as the Leroys', one would suppose that Major 
 Blunt had robbed Eugene Wallis of his liberty for no 
 other reason than that he had dared to escort her and 
 her little party about the post. Heavens, how her eyes 
 blazed and her tongue cut and slashed ! Blunt was a 
 cad Blunt was a low-born Blunt was a nigger 
 worshipper Blunt was a mudsill, whatever that may 
 have meant. But when Lorna appealed to the two men 
 who had been in attendance on this exciting day they 
 failed to support her to the extent this imperious queen 
 could have wished. Granger, sulky and silent, could 
 only be induced to say that Blunt seemed glad of a 
 pretext to discipline Wallis, whereas her other aide-de- 
 camp the distinguished-looking Georgian, who was 
 North on some mysterious mission and who had been 
 presented to her circle of acquaintances as Major Forno 
 very stanchly said that, from Wallis's own account of 
 the affair, Major Blunt could have had no alternative. 
 'That young fellow/' said he, "has no business to be 
 
 98 
 
AN ARREST EVADED. 99 
 
 wearing the federal uniform and is too big a fool to be 
 permitted to wear ours." Forno had the carriage and 
 manner of a man bred to camp as well as court. Soldier 
 was stamped in his every pose. What then was he 
 doing here in Gotham and in civilian dress ? 
 
 The news that Eugene Wallis had been ordered in 
 close arrest was not long in reaching the Rutherfords, 
 and then another odd thing happened. In spite of the 
 fact that Major Wallis, the elder brother, was connected 
 in the minds of most people with the disappearance of 
 those important papers belonging to Mrs. Rutherford, 
 that lady heard the tidings with obvious concern, and 
 sent Gerald forthwith to the Island to express her 
 sorrow, if not her sympathy, and to inquire if she could 
 not do something to ameliorate the prisoner's condition. 
 Like almost any other woman unacquainted with army 
 ways, Mrs. Rutherford supposed that the military 
 arrest, which simply required Mr. Wallis to remain in 
 his tent except when visiting the officers' mess for his 
 meals, involved incarceration in some gloomy dungeon 
 within the walls of Castle William. Gerald knew better 
 and tried to set her right. He little liked what he had 
 seen and heard of Wallis and was reluctant to visit him, 
 but, curiosity as to the situation, a certain change of 
 heart, as it were, in his mother's attitude toward the 
 Wallises, and finally the desire to see and talk with Ned 
 Barclay prevailed, and he went. No obstacle whatever 
 was thrown in the way of his going to the young officer's 
 tent and conveying his mother's message, coupled with 
 an inquiry for the address of the older brother. 
 
ioo A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Rutherford found young Wallis enveloped in a cloak 
 of gloomy distance and dignity that first irritated and 
 then amused him. "My brother, sir," said Eugene 
 coldly, "is on duty at Washington, organizing his new 
 regiment. Any letter sent care of the War Department 
 will reach him at once. No, I do not expect him here 
 at all. There is no reason why he should come. This 
 temporary inconvenience will be terminated the moment 
 the Secretary has had time to read the statement I 
 forwarded two days ago. Then our doughty major 
 here will wish he'd kept his temper. I expect the order 
 for my release to-morrow without fail. It isn't the first 
 time the Department has been called upon to disown the 
 actions of malignant enemies toward me." 
 
 But Barclay and his brother officers scouted this idea 
 when, a little later, they heard it from Rutherford's lips. 
 "He made an ass of himself at Camp Cameron," said 
 they "was excused because of youth and inexperience, 
 but with a very solemn warning. Now he's behaved 
 like a lunatic here. Blunt will court-martial him sure 
 as shooting, and he richly deserves it. Ask Webb." 
 
 Rutherford did ask Webb, a "regular" several years 
 and many "files" the senior of the new appointees, and a 
 man, moreover, who in days gone by had been a com- 
 rade and associate of the elder Wallis. The peccadillos, 
 moral and professional, of that brilliant but erratic 
 officer, however, had gradually undermined the friend- 
 ship of the frontier, and when Webb came to the Island 
 on the return of the ill-starred Star of the West, he 
 had but a cold and perfunctory greeting for his erstwhile 
 
AN ARREST, EYADEJX :,' 101 
 
 chum. Indeed, little t^y -little, \\falfts h^d, succeeded in 
 alienating nine out of ''ten 'of -tile cbfrira'des of the old 
 days, even among those, who, siding with the South, 
 had followed their native States in the general revolt 
 against the federal government. It boded ill for 
 Eugene, therefore, that Webb should have been selected 
 to serve as adjutant of the post, for Webb was a soldier 
 from the ground up and one intolerant of soldier sole- 
 cisms of any kind. 
 
 "Certainly it means court-martial," was his answer 
 to Rutherford's inquiry. "Charges have been preferred 
 and sent to Department Headquarters. Blunt might 
 have listened to an apology yesterday, had the youngster 
 come to his senses, but he seems doubly defiant and surly 
 insists that he was right and that the War Depart- 
 ment will sustain him. I fancy he has some bad, but 
 persistent, advisers in that Cranston gang. Mr. Ruth- 
 erford, your mother's people are Georgians who is 
 this Major Forno and what is he doing?" 
 
 They were seated at the moment on the north ve- 
 randa of the building then used as the officers' mess. 
 Before them, from the rear gallery, it commanded an 
 almost unbroken view of the two magnificent streams 
 the Hudson to the left, the East River to the right 
 with the roofs and walls and spires of the great city 
 fringed by the forest of masts, lying like a thronging 
 hive between. No towering tenements as now, broke 
 the sky-line. The graceful spire of Trinity, piercing 
 the heavens far above the cornice of the highest build- 
 ings, the belfry on the old post office, the white 
 
102 /A BROKEN ; SWORD. 
 
 cupola <af tbe.;city,teU and the ksser spire of St. Paul's 
 capped the picture' of t-h^'cityof '61 . The greenwood 
 shades of Battery Park, the circular, embrasured walls 
 of the old battery itself once the great theatre that 
 had thrilled to the witching voice of Jenny Lind, then 
 had fallen to the base uses of an emigrant depot lay 
 in plain sight across the tumbling waters. The boats 
 of the South and Staten Island ferries churned the 
 tossing waves into a \vake of creamy foam. Occupy- 
 ing the recent berth of the Minnesota, a British 
 frigate swung at anchor on the tide, barely five hun- 
 dred yards above the Island, her white-streaked side 
 pierced with a dozen ports. A well-manned rowboat, 
 sweeping sidewise with the swift ebb, was nevertheless 
 heading straight for the dripping stone steps of the 
 landing, and the pacing sentry, his gleaming rifle at 
 support, eyeing it narrowly, had already summoned 
 the corporal of the guard. It was the Island ferry on 
 its third trip from town, and the stern sheets were 
 filled with passengers. Even as he asked the ques- 
 tion, Webb had unslung the field telescope that hung 
 at the wall and, quickly adjusting the focus, leveled 
 it upon the dancing barge. 
 
 "I haven't an idea, Mr. Webb, who or what he is," 
 said Rutherford, slowly, "nor does my mother know, 
 and as yet we have not seen him. Miss Brenham 
 might tell, or Mr. Granger, but we rarely meet them 
 now." 
 
 "Well," said the adjutant, slowly, still peering 
 steadily through the long brass tube and steadying it 
 
AN ARREST EVADED. 103 
 
 against a pillar, "unless this thing deceives me, here 
 comes the gentleman himself, and it's my business 
 to ascertain his business. Orderly!" he shouted, sud- 
 denly whirling about in his tracks. 
 
 "Sorr," was the instant reply, and in trim, snug- 
 fitting tunic, in quaint, bulging, stiff-brimmed felt 
 hat, adorned with feather and brazen bugle, his shoul- 
 der scales, brasses, buttons, boots and belt gleaming 
 with polish, a soldier of the old school, an Irishman, 
 sprang up the steps and stood attention, his white- 
 gloved hand at the precise salute of the venerated 
 Scott's tactics, palm to the front and finger tips just 
 touching the edge of his hat brim. 
 
 Rapidly Mr. Webb scribbled a few words on a scrap 
 of paper. "To Major Blunt, quick!" said he, "and 
 bring the answer here." The orderly vanished. The 
 adjutant closed and returned the glass to its place, 
 then turned on the waiting group. Rutherford in 
 civilian garb, Barclay and Cutting in uniform, were 
 the three others present at the moment. It was al- 
 most time for the drums and fifes to be sounding 
 "Roast Beef of Old England" as the city bells struck 
 noon. The fatigue parties were already drifting bar- 
 rackward in response to the recall hammered by the 
 drummer of the guard a moment agone. The officer- 
 of-the-day, his red sash over the shoulder, was stalking 
 briskly toward the guardhouse hear the dock, and the 
 sentry was watching him as he came, waiting until he 
 passed the shot pile at the office angle before ringing 
 out the martial summons, "Turn out the guard!" in 
 
io 4 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 honor of the approaching magnate, but, individually, 
 members of the guard, old "Permanent Party" men, 
 were reaching for their rifles and straightening out 
 stray kinks in their clothing against the summons, 
 for it was a fad at the Island that the guard should 
 be in ranks when the noon boat came over from town, 
 and the noon boat to-day was evidently loaded to the 
 guards. All this they noted from the veranda of the 
 old "mess" and then, back came Orderly Flannigan 
 on the run. But the halt and salute were precise and 
 rigid before he delivered himself of his message: 
 
 "The Meejor's compliments to the adjutant, sorr, 
 and he'll be at the office directly." 
 
 "I'll see you again before you go, Mr. Rutherford," 
 said Webb. "There's a matter I much wish to ask 
 you about," and with a touch of his forage-cap he 
 strode away, Cutting speedily following. 
 
 For a few moments the two friends, chums of col- 
 lege days, sat there in the shade of the veranda, 
 silently studying the marvelous picture before them. 
 They had had their talk and there was little more to 
 be said. Barclay's secret was no secret to Gerald. 
 Well he knew the explanation of the cloud that 
 seemed to have fallen upon the life of his cherished 
 friend knew and was powerless to aid, for, though 
 Ethel had never spoken to him of Barclay save as a 
 man she frankly liked and would gladly help to happi- 
 ness, the brother well understood, as did Barclay, too, 
 that it was only a frank, friendly, girlish liking. Play- 
 mates in childhood's hour, they had grown up together, 
 
AN ARREST EVADED. 105 
 
 seeing each other day after day until her visit to 
 Europe, and never once had she known the faintest 
 response to the love that seized upon and possessed 
 his soul when the bonnie lassie blossomed out as the 
 lovely and winsome debutante. The hopelessness of 
 his suit was accentuated by the misfortunes of his 
 father's house and the further complication that fol- 
 lowed upon his intimacy with Wallis. It had cost 
 him over two thousand dollars to redeem the notes of 
 hand that he had given the captain in the course of 
 the early spring, and Wallis had pressed for payment 
 at a time when not a dollar could be had from the 
 father. It was Gerald who had gladly come to the 
 rescue, though he hated to think his money was going 
 into such unscrupulous hands. Barclay's sad face and 
 subdued manner, even now when he had his heart's 
 desire and his commission in the regular service, told 
 plainly how his combined sorrows had worn upon him, 
 and Gerald's big, boyish, loyal heart grieved over the 
 change that had overmastered his friend. 
 
 He was studying Barclay furtively as they sat there 
 in the warm noontide of mid July. Barclay had been 
 striving to get orders to join the army in front of 
 Washington, for it was evident that McDowell was 
 about to move and stirring times were expected 
 something to wipe out the humiliation of Big Bethel 
 and our luckless first encounter on the Sacred Soil 
 but Barclay had proved a most efficient officer in 
 licking the new material into shape, and Blunt would 
 not consent to let him go. 
 
io6 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Sitting there they watched with languid interest 
 the snappy parade of the guard, the honors to the 
 officer-of-the-day, and then the arrival, one by one, 
 of the barge's passengers at the head of the stone 
 stairway. Two or three residents on the Island were 
 passed by the vigilant corporal without detention. 
 Two or three others presented cards which he sent 
 at once to the officer-of-the-guard, and then came a 
 slender, soldierly form, spare, erect and sinewy, that, 
 even at the distance, Mr. Barclay recognized at once. 
 "There," said he, "is Major Forno. Now, watch!" 
 
 Rutherford gazed as bidden. They saw him stand- 
 ing conspicuous in a black frock coat of foreign cut, 
 full, peg-top trowsers of a pearl gray color, a white 
 necktie, and a broad-brimmed Panama hat patiently 
 submitting to the questions of the corporal; saw him 
 courteously raise his hat and bow when accosted by 
 the young officer-of-the-guard. " He must be over 
 forty," said Barclay. "His moustache and imperial 
 are already turning gray. Just see how he stands. 
 Wouldn't you know that man had been a soldier?" 
 
 Young Rutherford had risen, and, with keen inter- 
 est in his eyes, was staring across the intervening 
 pyramids and stacks of cannonballs. Suddenly he 
 turned. "Come on, Ned. I want to have a closer 
 look at that fellow," said he. So together they passed 
 through the mess and ante-rooms to the southern 
 front and, following the old brick wall, went swiftly 
 round toward the guardhouse, only to find Forno had 
 gone. 
 
AN ARREST EVADED. 107 
 
 "He said he knew the way to Wallis's tent," said 
 the officer-of-the-guard, "and I let him go. I had 
 no orders to the contrary. But I've sent the names 
 up to post headquarters. There were others to see 
 Wallis." 
 
 "Let us wait a moment and watch Webb," sug- 
 gested Barclay, in a low tone. "He's going to have a 
 look at Forno unless I'm mistaken." So they saun- 
 tered slowly back toward the office, and presently, 
 surely enough, the bearded adjutant came forth, and 
 with quick, springy step went briskly away toward the 
 little clump of officers' tents pitched on the north- 
 ward slope of the glacis, and the two friends followed. 
 
 Wallis occupied the second tent on the row and, 
 the walls being triced up for air, it was easy to see 
 that he had visitors before the party reached the front. 
 Two men were seated on his camp cot, Forno and a 
 stranger, while Wallis himself, standing at his little 
 camp desk, was stowing away some papers when 
 Webb's tall figure loomed up at the entrance and 
 Webb's deep voice was heard: 
 
 "Your pardon, gentlemen, but I have received in- 
 structions concerning Major Forno and should be 
 glad to speak with him a moment." 
 
 "Certainly, sir," was Forno's prompt reply as he 
 arose and stepped quickly forth. He never noticed 
 the young officer who, with his civilian friend, had 
 halted irresolute a dozen paces away. He was look- 
 ing straight at Webb, a shade of anxiety in his deep- 
 set, gray eyes. As for Webb, he had drawn a paper 
 
io8 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 from a long, official envelope, and his eyes flitted from 
 the written page to the slender figure before him, as 
 though comparing some description with an interest- 
 ing personality. Forno saw it and the color surged 
 up to his temples, but neither by look nor word did 
 he offer objection or remonstrance. It was some sec- 
 onds before Webb spoke again. When he did there 
 was something in the tone that told of both doubt 
 and disappointment. 
 
 "Pardon me, major," said he, "but we have received 
 orders concerning a certain Southern officer said to 
 be masquerading around here in civilian dress. I am 
 glad to say you in no way answer his description." 
 
 "You have my word of honor, suh," said Forno, 
 with grave dignity, "that I hold no commission in our 
 Confederate service at least, not yet. My business, 
 though urgent, is entirely private and personal." 
 
 "And the title? major?" queried Webb. 
 
 Forno smiled gravely. "That is what might be 
 called a Southernism. I never attained that rank, 
 suh." 
 
 "Yet you have served, I'd swear to it," said Webb. 
 
 "Yes, as a boy at Buena Vista and later I saw a 
 campaign or two abroad." 
 
 Webb touched his forage-cap. "You have lifted a 
 load from my shoulders, sir, and now, as your friend 
 Mr. Wallis cannot do so, I trust that I may be per- 
 mitted to tender you the hospitality of the mess. Will 
 you not lunch with us to-day? Permit me to intro- 
 duce myself. My name is Webb/' 
 
AN ARREST EVADED. 109 
 
 Forno raised his Panama and bowed with cavalier 
 grace. "I thank you sincerely, suh, but I should 
 hardly like to leave Mr. Wallis. In fact, we were 
 planning a little luncheon here al fresco. Mr. Sout- 
 ter, who is with me, had a basket filled this morning 
 at Delmonico's. Mr. Wallis's servant has gone for 
 the necessary tableware." 
 
 "As you please, Major Forno, but I shall renew the 
 invitation later. You may find it convenient to visit 
 us before you return, and, as I may not be there, let 
 me present" and here Webb turned and signalled 
 "my friend Mr. Barclay of the teenth Infantry. 
 Barclay, Major Forno," whereat again Panama and 
 forage-cap were raised, and with much grave cour- 
 tesy the two shook hands. 
 
 "Recently of the Seventh, if I mistake not, Mr. 
 Barclay?" said Forno, his fine face lighting with a 
 pleasant smile. "I had the good fortune to meet sev- 
 eral of your comrades when you visited Richmond a 
 few years ago. You probably remember John Coch- 
 rane's speech." 
 
 "I was not with the Seventh at that time, major," 
 was Barclay's quiet answer. "Indeed, I only squeezed 
 in last April in place of a friend who couldn't go. Let 
 me present him Mr. Rutherford." 
 
 Whereat Gerald's light straw hat was uplifted from 
 his light, straw-colored hair, and his slender white 
 hand was half extended in civil greeting. 
 
 But only half, for at sound of the name and sight 
 of the man every vestige of color fled from Forno's 
 
no A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 face. His hat slowly settled back upon his head; his 
 lips, twitching painfully, seemed striving to frame a 
 word. In astonishment Webb and Barclay stared at 
 him a moment until he broke silence. Hoarse and 
 barely audible his voice was heard, and he slightly 
 reeled as though dizzy. 
 
 "Pardon but the sun, I think. I'm subject to 
 these " and, abruptly turning, Forno plunged be- 
 neath the spreading "fly" and dove into the shaded 
 shelter of the nearest tent. 
 
 That night there came a "wire" from Washington 
 that set Blunt to swearing. He was directed to order 
 Lieutenant Eugene Wallis to report in person without 
 delay and in arrest, to the adjutant general of the 
 army. 
 
 "Damn him !" said Blunt. "He'll get there among 
 all his father's old friends, Northern and Southern, 
 and between them they'll coax old Cameron to let him 
 off again when he should have been tried here. How- 
 ever, give him the order, Webb, and tell him to go 
 first thing in the morning." 
 
 In ten minutes Webb was back, his eyes glittering, 
 his face pale. 
 
 "Mr. Wallis cleared out, sir, two hours ago, bag 
 and baggage. He has more than broken his arrest 
 he has deserted." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BETWEEN TWO DUTIES. 
 
 THREE months went by without other tidings 
 of the missing officer than that he had been 
 seen and recognized in Richmond and had offered his 
 sword to the South without the formality of first sub- 
 mitting his resignation to the United States. Very 
 possibly he well knew that, tendered under a cloud of 
 charges, that resignation would not be accepted. 
 Lorna Brenham came no more to Governor's Island. 
 Major Forno had disappeared from the New York 
 Hotel and Jimmy Granger was doing his best to keep 
 in society, yet out of difficulty. The main trouble 
 with him, said loyal girls of Gotham, was that he had 
 not the courage of his convictions. 
 
 "If you are such a determined Southerner, go and 
 fight with them. Then we'll have some respect for 
 you," said Ethel Rutherford, one summer night at the 
 Leroys', and most remarkably had that hitherto reti- 
 cent and retiring young woman developed since the 
 Seventh came back from the war. She who had been 
 content, apparently, to hold a modest place in social 
 matters and to spend hours in reading to her invalid 
 mother, had become an avowed agitator in matters 
 both military and political. She had organized sew- 
 
 iii 
 
ii2 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 ing circles by the dozen, whereby the regiments at 
 the front were being deluged with the output of a 
 thousand fair fingers "Havelocks" innumerable, 
 which the wondering soldiery received, searched for 
 notes, bank or billet doux, and wore not more than 
 once or twice night-caps, needle cases, woolen mitts, 
 with a slit for the trigger finger; worsted shoes for 
 tired soldier feet to wear when the day's march was 
 done; cholera bands, camphor bags, coffee cakes (a 
 curious compound purporting to be sugar, cream and 
 coffee in due proportion each cube dissolved in a 
 quart of hot water warranted to produce a full mea- 
 sure of fragrant, steaming, stimulating beverage) 
 what did not these blessed women send'to the boys in 
 blue the first summer and winter of the war? Then, 
 too, Miss Ethel had become a vehement patriot, a 
 self-appointed chairwoman of the household commit- 
 tee on the conduct of the war. Oh, what a fiery rak- 
 ing fell to the lot of the rector of Grace church that hot 
 August Sunday when, all inadvertently, he omitted 
 the prayer for the President ! And, though it was one 
 of the hottest Augusts known to Gotham history, 
 families that hitherto had spent that month at New- 
 port or Long Branch found it to their better inter- 
 est to remain behind closed shutters in their city 
 homes the livelong day, and to take the evening air 
 upon the brownstone steps. "What's the use of going 
 to the seashore?" said the girls. "There are no men 
 there at least, none worth knowing." Truth to tell, 
 many of the girls were not a little bored by Miss 
 
BETWEEN TWO DUTIES. 113 
 
 Ethel's persistence and fiery patriotism, though her 
 castigation of Jim Granger met their almost un- 
 divided approval. Truth to tell, Jim Granger more 
 than once had screwed his courage to the sticking 
 point and sought to talk his ageing father into giv- 
 ing him a substantial outfit and a lump sum in gold 
 and letting him join the staff of a Georgia general in 
 front of Washington; but that was only when Lorna 
 Brenham talked of going home to be a nurse. Bull 
 Run put an end to her plans in that direction. "Why 
 go South, when within a few weeks the South will be 
 here in full force?" was the exultant question of the 
 coterie at Cranston's. There may have been other 
 reasons, but at all events, Lorna went not at all. No 
 more did Granger; and after that woful lesson had 
 opened the eyes of the North to the fact that a war 
 in grim earnest was upon them, the line between the 
 Union and Southern sympathizers was far more 
 sharply drawn, and when, late in the summer, Bernard 
 Hoyt reappeared in Gotham, wearing the brand new 
 bars of his captaincy of cavalry, ordered thither to 
 aid in the organization and instruction of a regiment 
 of volunteer cavalry and occupying once more his old 
 quarters around the corner from the Rutherford man- 
 sion, he found social circles vastly changed, and Ethel 
 always too busy and absorbed in her new, self-im- 
 posed duties to have much time for him. All day 
 long, and day after day, she was flitting from one 
 meeting or sewing bee to another. Then, as the first 
 wounded were brought home members of the Four- 
 
ii 4 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 teenth, Sixty-ninth, Seventy-first and Seventy-ninth 
 regiments of New York militia she and the sister- 
 hood she had enlisted obtained the addresses of the 
 men (for as yet no general military hospitals had been 
 established on Manhattan Island), and the attending 
 surgeons were embarrassed by the offers of aid and 
 the cabloads of dainties with which they were bom- 
 barded. Fine was the scorn with which Ethel and 
 her associates referred to the hapless home battery, 
 that, demanding its discharge on the expiration of its 
 three months' service, just as McDowell's advance 
 was fording Bull Run, "marched to the rear to the 
 sound of the enemy's cannon," as that irate com- 
 mander most justly expressed it. 
 
 Those were days, too, in which Hortense, the 
 housekeeper, declared that life was made a burden to 
 her, for Ethel's maid caught cold and broke down 
 from exposure and incessant running about, and Hor- 
 tense was not only compelled to supervise the pack- 
 ing and sending of basketloads of broths, creams, jel- 
 lies, whips and other comfits supposed to be of special 
 benefit to convalescent warriors, but time and again 
 had to go with her now restless and imperious young 
 mistress when her Gallic heart was anything but in 
 the work. Foreign born, Southern bred, she had 
 come into the household through the Gordon connec- 
 tion and had far more interest in the Georgia friends 
 of her youth than in these of the austere, unemotional 
 North. There had been a wavering week when it was 
 rumored that LeGal's red-legged regiment of militia 
 
BETWEEN TWO DUTIES. 115 
 
 the French Fifty-fifth was to take the field for 
 liberty and union, but save through de Trobriand 
 their gallant lieutenant colonel little was ever heard 
 of it again, and Hortense reverted to the original 
 status that of a secret sympathizer with the South. 
 But Ethel had one assiduous and devoted backer in 
 the domestic establishment, and that was Forbes, the 
 butler. Day or night, at any hour, alert, silent, 
 watchful, that invaluable servitor seemed ever ready 
 to come and go at her bidding. Indeed he was for- 
 ever coming, prolific in proffer and suggestion. More 
 than once Gerald, letting himself in with his latchkey 
 and speeding up the stairs three at a bound to his 
 mother's room, had been surprised to find Forbes in 
 the upper hall, when his bailiwick was really confined 
 to the main floor (on which were the parlor, library 
 and dining room, with the silver and china closets, 
 the butler's pantry and the broad, glass-enclosed back 
 porch), the basement, in which was his own immacu- 
 late apartment (Forbes's little family being main- 
 tained in modest comfort around near Sixth Avenue 
 and Thirteenth Street), and then of course, the fa- 
 mous Rutherford cellar, which was his exclusive 
 charge. To Gerald's look of surprise and impatient 
 question, Forbes most respectfully explained that he 
 was in search of Miss Rutherford to report the result 
 of certain missions entrusted to him. Forbes begged 
 pardon for presuming to mention it to Mr. Ruther- 
 ford, but he feared some of Miss Rutherford's soldier 
 patients were imposing on Miss Rutherford's charity 
 
n6 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 and goodness in the matter of the port, Bordeaux and 
 Burgundy Miss Rutherford had ordered sent to Ser- 
 geant Shaughnessy of the Sixty-ninth, shot in the 
 arm, and to other semi-invalided heroes who found 
 vast comfort in the life giving juice of the sun-warmed 
 grapes of the Cote d'Or and the Douro it was so 
 easily swapped for more than its bulk in poteen. Ger- 
 ald was spending hours each day now, watching with 
 eager and envious eyes Captain Hoyt's vigorous, sol- 
 dier work with his would-be troopers. Gerald was 
 spending other hours gently, gradually, persistently 
 besieging his unhappy mother with plea and argu- 
 ment to the effect that his father's son should not b 
 dawdling here in the luxury of home when every friend 
 he had in the world was wearing the sword of Uncle 
 Sam when nearly every family was represented at 
 the front. Well did the poor lady read the restless 
 heart of her boy and long did she strive to hold him, 
 but, as week followed week and he grew more hag- 
 gard, nervous, irritable, unhappy, she felt her last hold 
 slipping, slipping away and in anguish unspeakable 
 realized that she was only postponing the evil hour 
 that sooner or later his dogged Rutherford persist- 
 ence and obstinacy would win the day. 
 
 But time and again as the autumn wore on and all 
 was quiet on the Potomac, Gerald brought Bernard 
 Hoyt, nothing loth, to dinner. 'Mrs. Rutherford was 
 keeping her room much of the time now, and but 
 rarely appeared at table. Ethel, therefore, did the 
 honors and listened with eager interest to all that the 
 
BETWEEN TWO DUTIES. 117 
 
 young cavalryman had to say of the war. She, in 
 her boundless impatience and enthusiasm, was for 
 having McClellan and his half drilled, half disciplined 
 brigades push on to Richmond before the winter set 
 in. "They should be as well drilled and disciplined 
 as the Southern volunteeers," said she, "and surely 
 they are more numerous!" 
 
 "They are pitted against a united people, defend- 
 ing their own homes, fighting on their own ground, 
 and under most skillful leaders," said Hoyt, his blue 
 eyes dwelling on the softly flushing cheek and drink- 
 ing in the beauty of her glowing face. "McClellan 
 can afford no defeat, you understand, and is work- 
 ing now might and main and night and day to make 
 his army invincible. Be patient, Miss Ethel. And 
 then, too," he added with a smile, "remember that we 
 have hardly any cavalry as yet, and to whip the South 
 we must have horsemen as many and as good as 
 theirs. It will take time much time, I fear and 
 they have not yet begun to realize it at Washington." 
 
 "You will be weaning Gerald from the Seventh and 
 making a trooper of him, Captain Hoyt," said she, half 
 wistfully, half dreading. "I know he's mad to go 
 but for mother." 
 
 "Mad yes," broke in Gerald, in nervous irritation. 
 "If it weren't for Hoyt here I would go mad surely 
 enough. Every man I know, worth knowing, has 
 gone. Every loyal name except ours is borne on the 
 rolls some of them six times over. I envy Barclay, 
 Benkard, Bronson, Cutting why, I could call the roll 
 
n8 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 right down the alphabetical list of the old company 
 and show you man after man commanding his own 
 company now in the regulars or volunteers or riding 
 as aide to some wide-awake general far at the front! 
 Look at them Lydigs, Smedbergs, Winthrops, every 
 unmarried man of the name gone! Look at the Le- 
 roys every ablebodied fellow of the tribe two gen- 
 erations of 'em sons and grandsons all off to the 
 war, and we haven't so much as one! I'm ashamed 
 to show at the club or anywhere, by Jove! and it's 
 it's simply killing me!" And with that poor Ger- 
 ald sprang from his chair, nearly colliding with the 
 statuesque Forbes, and tore away out of the room. 
 
 Ethel's eyes were brimming and for a moment she 
 could not speak. Hoyt, sympathetic, yet well aware of 
 Dr. Tracy's declaration of what it might cost the 
 mother if Gerald were to insist on volunteering, held his 
 peace. It was she who broke the silence. 
 
 "I believe he talks of it in his sleep when he sleeps 
 at all," said she at last, her downcast eyes unlifting for 
 a moment and shooting one swift glance at him. 
 "Could he really would you help him get a commis- 
 sion in the cavalry you are drilling?" 
 
 "I could at least try, but the easiest way the best 
 way would be for him to do it himself. Three troops 
 are yet unfilled. If he could enlist fifteen good sound 
 men it would insure his being made a second lieuten- 
 ant. All he needs is a start. But, Miss Ethel your 
 mother?" 
 
 The brimming eyes were again downcast, the heavily 
 
BETWEEN TWO DUTIES. 119 
 
 fringed lids in violent action. The girl was struggling 
 against the surging, unshed tears. She strove to 
 answer, but her voice broke, and hurriedly she rose, 
 faltered an excuse and fled through the heavily cur- 
 tained archway to the darker library beyond. Hoyt's 
 first impulse was to follow, but again the old restrain- 
 ing thought, the stubborn soldier pride withheld him. 
 What right had he, what excuse had he, to seek her at 
 such a moment, when in her weight of care and distress 
 on her mother's account, her sympathy for Gerald, her 
 intense love and enthusiasm for the cause of the Union, 
 and, in her deep and obvious emotion, she might well 
 need to lean on his strength she an heiress he a 
 penniless trooper with his way yet to be won ? At least 
 there was no excuse for remaining longer at the table. 
 He did not smoke. He arose and slowly followed, let- 
 ting the heavy curtains fall behind him and leaving the 
 brilliantly lighted dining room to Forbes, who quickly 
 tiptoed to the curtained archway; peered one instant 
 between the heavy folds; sprang back; extinguished 
 several of the gas jets over the table and side-board; 
 stepped catlike to the broad porch at the rear, and set a 
 candle with a brilliant reflector on an iron flower-stand 
 at the northward end. The white waxlight was thrown 
 out over the vista of rear doors and windows of the side- 
 street houses. Then he returned to the sheltering folds 
 to listen further, but there was nothing to reward his 
 vigilance. Ethel had hurried after Gerald only to find 
 that he had bolted down the avenue toward the Bre- 
 voort. Hoyt, still following, heard the swish of her 
 
120 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 expansive skirts as she sped upstairs to her own room, 
 and noiselessly he let himself out through the marble- 
 tiled vestibule; softly closed. the door behind him; and, 
 catching sight of Gerald's retreating form, went swiftly 
 in pursuit. He had heard news that day news that 
 he had meant they should not learn through him, but in 
 a very different way, yet news that might do much to 
 banish Gerald's misery, possibly give him a happier 
 night. Hoyt's rule for many a year had been based 
 on the old adage that only a fool tells what he's going 
 to do, but it was a rule that had its exception. Some- 
 thing must be done to rouse Gerald from the slough of 
 his deep despond. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 
 
 U /^1 OOD riddance to bad rubbish," was the verdict 
 VJT at the Island when, as months rolled On, the 
 desertion of Eugene Wallis had become an accepted 
 fact. But there was one man, at least, on whom the 
 stigma of the lad's disgrace fell with crushing force 
 his elder brother Harold. 
 
 For weeks that brilliant commander of the infant 
 regiment of regular infantry, shunning all verbal men- 
 tion of the matter nearest his heart, seemed devoting 
 himself assiduously to the duty of drilling and teaching 
 his new-made officers and men. No one dreamed of the 
 hours of anguish and distress he spent between the 
 darkness and the dawn. He knew well, within the fort- 
 night following Eugene's reckless breach of arrest and 
 mad-brained desertion, just where he was and what he 
 was doing. He knew because he had means of knowing 
 denied the commanding officer at Governor's Island and 
 even the venerable Secretary of War* He knew, and 
 had sent that erring brother a scathing letter of rebuke, 
 yet with it a substantial sum in gold. He attended 
 dinner after dinner, dance after dance, ball after ball, 
 welcomed and feted in the most exclusive houses in 
 the capital. He entertained lavishly his officers con- 
 
 121 
 
122 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 tributing far more than warranted by the means of most 
 of them the score of invited guests that came each 
 morning, with throngs of the unbidden, to watch the 
 beautiful battalion drill of the teenth and to admire 
 the commander's form, ringing voice and splendid 
 horsemanship. Only Harry Clitz could begin to handle 
 a battalion like Wallis, said the experts, and men who 
 hated him for his superior, supercilious manner and 
 distrusted him for his past peccadillos and present asso- 
 ciations, came and studied his methods and went away 
 wondering no more that the line officers of the teenth 
 were so enthusiastic in his praise. The regiment was 
 rapidly becoming the "show battalion" in all the cir- 
 cling camps or the wooden barracks about Washington, 
 and the name of Harold Wallis was on every lip. Dash- 
 ing, debonair, distingue and, so said certain maids and 
 young matrons, "so romantic" even at the War De- 
 partment, where Thomas still ruled and Cameron 
 yielded, he had his admirers, while at army head- 
 quarters at McClellan's Wallis was a prime favorite. 
 In all the brilliant staff with which the brainy young 
 organizer had surrounded himself that wonderful 
 autumn, there were few men except Marcy who knew 
 much of the frontier records of the officers of the Old 
 Army. As for rumors of lukewarm allegiance, of de- 
 clared Southern sympathies, of acknowledged cor- 
 respondence, these were things to be ignored, as was the 
 well-known fact that, at this very moment, of Wallis's 
 kith and kin, the greater part were in and of the South. 
 The colonel of this not yet year old, yet distinguished, 
 
HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 123 
 
 regiment, was commanding a division of volunteers out 
 near Arlington the lieutenant colonel a brigade at 
 Chain Bridge, both well content that the major should 
 be the one to break in the raw battalion, and though 
 Willard's and the War Department fairly bristled with 
 the stars and buttons of new-made brigadiers, it is safe 
 to say that few, if any, of their number were so well 
 known to the populace civil or military as the envied 
 and courted major at the head of the teenth. 
 
 But none of these ever saw Harold Wallis as did one 
 faithful friend, his young adjutant and amanuensis, a 
 former playmate of Eugene's, in the bitter hours after 
 midnight when the major sat striving to find a way to 
 rescue the lad whom his dying mother had confided 
 to his care whom long years before in '46 his 
 soldier-father had taken on his knee and held one mo- 
 ment to his strong heart, then had risen, and, leading 
 the little fellow to his tall brother's side, had solemnly 
 said, "I may not come back, my boys; be you both 
 devoted to your country and your mother, and, Harold, 
 promise me that you will shield and aid Eugene al- 
 ways. Something tells me he will need you." 
 
 And this was the skeleton in the closet of the debonair 
 commander in these, the days of his greatest glory, for 
 all social if not official Washington seemed at his feet. 
 This was the state of things when there came to him 
 one brilliant night in late October, in the whirl and 
 crush of a crowded ballroom, a little note, accompanied 
 by the soft, warning pressure of a slender, kid-gloved 
 hand, and a pair of lovely eyes beamed on him sig'- 
 
i2 4 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 nificantly only a second as the fair girl went in to supper 
 on the arm of the French minister. Wallis had notes 
 and hand pressures galore, but this this meant some- 
 thing far more stirring. 
 
 It was not until half an hour later, however, that 
 he could extract the mite of a billet from within the 
 palm of his white glove, and by the light of a street 
 lamp read its contents. They were brief enough, but 
 sent the blood coursing through his veins, yet he re- 
 joined his companions, from whom he had excused him- 
 self just thirty seconds, and with all the old airy non- 
 chalance sauntered down the avenue, tearing into little 
 fragments the flimsy note and scattering them on the 
 soft night wind, listening most deferentially the while 
 to the words of the venerable statesman whom he was 
 escorting homeward. It was but a few steps to the 
 senatorial mansion. The great man from the Hudson 
 bade his martial friends good-night, then Wallis, re- 
 placing his natty forage-cap, turned on his inseparable 
 companion the young adjutant : 
 
 "Forney," said he, "I wish you would drop in at my 
 quarters when you return to barracks and tell that vaga- 
 bond of mine to have my civilian clothes ready. I may 
 need them for the day. Captain Hulin can look after 
 the passes and things, but you'd better order drill by 
 company and Forney, see that nothing is changed in 
 my absence and ah er good-night, my boy. I'm 
 going over to the ah Department." 
 
 And go he did to, but not into the Department. The 
 sentries saw and recognized the tall, slender, soldierly 
 
HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 125 
 
 figure that came striding down Seventeenth and disap- 
 peared northwestward up a dimly lighted side street. 
 
 Neither he, however, nor Forney, nor the escorted 
 senator saw what was seen by an observant corre- 
 spondent of a New York journal who had been "cov- 
 ering" the ball for half an hour previous that dozens 
 of those little white fragments fluttering from the 
 white-gloved hand, were gathered in and carefully 
 hoarded by one keen-eyed, alert young fellow, while 
 another chap sauntered guilelessly along a block behind 
 but unerringly on the trail of the debonair major. 
 It set the "Harbinger's" representative to thinking, and 
 thinking, he too followed the trail, and in ten minutes' 
 walk overhauled his man, whistling softly to himself 
 and, with hands deep in his trousers' pockets, wandering 
 aimlessly about within range of the one house showing 
 a light in a block some three squares from the w r ar 
 office. The scribe went swiftly by, apparently indif- 
 ferent to any consideration other than that of getting 
 home and to bed ; popped round the first corner ; walked 
 steadily, even noisily, a full hundred yards riverward ; 
 then turned ; tiptoed back and, peering cautiously round 
 the corner, finally located his detective friend leaning 
 against the tree box nearly opposite the dimly-lighted 
 windows. 
 
 And there they stayed, the watcher and the watched, 
 until from somewhere over Georgetown way the deep, 
 mellow tone of a church bell tolled the hour of three. 
 Once a cavalry patrol, leading a squad of belated soldier 
 roisterers to the provost marshal's, passed down the 
 
126 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 street, and then as the sleuth saw fit to come strolling 
 toward him, the journalist took refuge under the wood- 
 en stairway of the old frame house at the corner. Once, 
 chatting in low tones and marching at route step, a "re- 
 lief" of the guard, coming in from changing certain 
 outlying sentries, trudged on toward the War Depart- 
 ment, but never did either of the watchers for more than 
 half a minute lose sight of the house waking at this 
 unusual hour, and not five minutes after the stroke of 
 three their vigilance was rewarded. 
 
 The door opened ; a beam of faint, mellow light was 
 thrown athwart the misty street; a young man came 
 bounding down the steps and hurried away southeast- 
 ward. In less than twenty-five minutes the lamps of a 
 hack shot into view from Seventeenth Street and were 
 speedily brought to a stand in front of the shadowed 
 premises. A young man the same young man 
 sprang forth ; was instantly admitted to the hallway and 
 very soon thereafter the door again opened ; Major Wal- 
 lis's tall figure was seen against the soft glow within, 
 and beyond his, enveloped in a cloak, another form 
 shorter, but no less martial than his and somebody 
 with fine, clear-cut features, a moustache and imperial 
 a Vempereur, was bowing bareheaded and with cavalier 
 grace to some invisible somebody else. Then a soft 
 slouch hat, with wide curving brim, was placed on the 
 shapely head. Then down the steps came the two ; past 
 them darted the young man to the carriage door which, 
 with evident deference and respect, he held open until 
 the gentlemen were seated therein ; then softly closed it ; 
 
HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 127 
 
 muttered some direction to the driver, and away went 
 the hack by a quick turn about and whirled to the left 
 at the first corner two lithe, active fellows sprinting 
 in pursuit, but giving up the chase before the bounding 
 lights had flashed across Pennsylvania Avenue. 
 
 When Lieutenant Forney, adjutant of the teenth 
 Infantry and of the post of Greble Barracks, entered his 
 office after mounting the guard at eight A.M., he found 
 the morning report book lying, as usual, on his desk, 
 together with the customary array of passes, permits, 
 ration returns, etc., and was not greatly surprised to see 
 the signature of the regimental and post commander 
 already in its appropriate column on the outspread page. 
 That had happened before when it had pleased Major 
 Wallis to absent himself on "urgent personal affairs" 
 without the formality of a leave of absence. Army 
 regulations providing that post commanders were em- 
 powered to grant themselves leave not to exceed seven 
 days had been suspended by War Department order for 
 the time being a necessary result of the war, the 
 capital being approximately in a state of siege and as 
 the major's signature appeared on the report at orderly 
 hour he was constructively present and for duty. 
 
 Yet Thomas, at the adjutant general's office, knew 
 better when ten o'clock came knew that in civilian 
 dress and accompanied by a stranger, also in civilian 
 dress, yet having a decidedly military air, Wallis had 
 driven from his quarters close to the barracks toward 
 six in the morning ; had stopped five minutes at the old 
 National Hotel leaving his friend in the hack and 
 
128 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 that later and separately the two had boarded the early 
 train for New York at the Baltimore & Ohio station. 
 
 When toward four o'clock in the afternoon an orderly 
 came trotting in to the barrack square with a note 
 marked "Immediate," addressed to Major Harold 
 Wallis and bearing the War Department brand on the 
 upper left-hand corner, the officer-of -trie-day gravely 
 receipted for it; said it would be delivered as soon as 
 the major returned, but that he was "at the moment 
 not in barracks." The orderly said he was bidden to 
 wait for a reply, so the adjutant was hunted up and 
 found with a jovial party of fellow subalterns testing 
 the comparative merits of three or four samples of 
 Monongahela submitted for selection by the mess, also 
 of the five cards each held in his hand. Forney had 
 just called a full with an ace flush, and it wasn't the 
 note he passed over the blanket, but the one slipped into 
 his hand that made him lose color. He quit the game 
 and followed the grave-faced captain into the hall. 
 
 "Do you know where he is ?" asked the latter. "Can 
 you reach him by man, beast or wire?" By which it 
 would seem that already in the teenth the major's 
 idiosyncrasies were known and, despite them, officers 
 and men were attached to their chief. 
 
 "By wire, possibly," was Forney's answer, as he has- 
 tily buttoned his frock coat. Then he darted over to 
 the office; took a note sheet headed Headquarters 
 teenth U. S. Infantry, Greble Barracks, Washington, 
 and wrote thereon, "Major Wallis is not at his quarters 
 or about the post. I feel unauthorized to open the en- 
 
HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 129 
 
 closed, as it is addressed to him personally and not as 
 regimental or post commander," signed his name as 
 adjutant, popped missive and his own note into a larger 
 envelope, bade the orderly give it to the officer from 
 whom he received his instructions, and then, sending a 
 drummer boy on the run for his horse, held brief con- 
 fab with the officer-of-the-day. Ten minutes later he 
 was scandalizing foot patrols by galloping down Four- 
 teenth Street toward Pennsylvania Avenue, and within 
 half an hour a message was clicking over the wires to 
 New York. 
 
 "Major HAROLD WALLIS, U. S. A., 
 
 "New York Hotel. (If not there send to Union and 
 New York Clubs or residence of G. Rutherford, Esq., 
 Fifth Avenue.) 
 
 "Significant inquiries from A. G. O. Suggest your 
 telegraphing Thomas, if not already done. 
 
 "FORNEY." 
 
 By a roundabout route, so as to avoid the recently 
 ignored patrols, the adjutant trotted back to the bar- 
 racks, and by the time he was out of riding trousers 
 and into his best uniform for parade, that War Depart- 
 ment courier was again at his door with another note, 
 this time for himself. It bade him report in person to 
 the Adjutant General at 9 A.M. the following day, and, 
 in what he termed a "blue funk," he sped across the 
 hall in search of a senior captain who more than once 
 had been his counselor; told him just what had hap- 
 pened and what he had done, and begged advice, just 
 
130 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 as the drums began to rattle and resound through the 
 echoing quadrangle, sounding first call for parade. The 
 captain's response was a long whistle of doubt and dis- 
 may, then the words, "By Jupiter, His Highness has 
 hanged himself this time or I'm a home guard !" which 
 failed somehow to comfort the adjutant. 
 
 Hour after hour that long evening the youngster 
 watched, waited, sent messages to the telegraph office 
 and prayed for the coming of a reply. Just as "taps" 
 was sounding on the trumpets of a cavalry squadron 
 camped across the street, a carriage drove into the bar- 
 rack square and a man of middle height, rather spare 
 and angular and wearing an ill-fitting military frock 
 coat flapping open over that abomination of the soldier 
 who properly wears his uniform a civilian waistcoat 
 stepped from the vehicle and briefly said, "I wish a 
 word with Adjutant Forney." 
 
 "That's me," said Forney, disdainful alike of syntax 
 and the stranger, "will you come in?" and ushered his 
 visitor into the office. 
 
 The newcomer gazed dubiously about him a moment ; 
 went over and closed the door leading into the clerk's 
 room; then turned and began a very deliberate study 
 of the younger man, looking him over from head to foot. 
 Forney reddened under the scrutiny with mingled irri- 
 tation and impatience. "Well, sir, you want some- 
 thing. What is it?" said he. 
 
 "Perhaps I'd better say I represent the adjutant 
 general and am here by his instructions to ask you 
 a question or two. There's my credentials," and he 
 
HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 131 
 
 handed the adjutant a folded paper which Forney gin- 
 gerly took, read, colored deeper, looked embarrassed, 
 coughed and returned with a gesture that seemed to 
 say, "Well, I'm in your hands go ahead !" then stood 
 expectant. 
 
 "When Major Wallis called you away from the ball 
 last night did he acquaint you with the contents of a 
 note he had in his hand ?" 
 
 "No," said Forney, shortly. 
 
 "You knew it concerned you in some way, did you 
 not?" 
 
 "No," shortly as before. 
 
 "Yet your name was the first word in it." And the 
 stranger's eyes were very searching now. 
 
 "I know nothing whatever about it," said Forney, 
 bluntly. 
 
 "Look at this and say whose writing it is," said the 
 elder, laying before him on the plain, wooden table a 
 card on which were pasted a number of scraps of thin 
 paper, fitted to each other like the fragments of one of 
 those dissected maps that were the delight of our youth. 
 
 In mingled curiosity and disinclination Forney bent 
 and looked. Pieced together, many scraps being evi- 
 dently missing, the young adjutant made out the fol- 
 lowing inscription in a woman's hand one that more 
 than once he had seen on the major's desk. 
 
 "Forn .... See . . efore . . . out fai 
 . . . t once .... Need . . est. . ate." 
 
 "Well," said the visitor, finally, "what have you to 
 say?" 
 
132 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "Nothing," was the sharp reply. 
 
 "Does it convey no idea to you?" 
 
 "None whatever." 
 
 "You know the writer?" 
 
 "Not from Adam or Eve rather." 
 
 "Then I shall bother you no more to-night, lieuten- 
 ant, further than to say it is the General's orders that 
 no mention be made of this," and taking up the card 
 the officer started for the door. 
 
 "What General?" shouted Forney after him, irrita- 
 tion in his tone. 
 
 "The only one to whom I report outside the office of 
 the Secretary of War General L. Thomas," was the 
 cool reply, and out into the hall and down the wooden 
 steps clattered the stranger, leaving Forney bewildered. 
 Oh, for a word from Wallis ! 
 
 But not till midnight came that longed-for answer, 
 characteristic and consistent. Who ever heard Wallis 
 admit himself either in danger or in error ? 
 
 "Lieutenant FORNEY, Greble Barracks, Washington. 
 Message received. No occasion for alarm or appeal to 
 Thomas. If sent for to-morrow say the major will do 
 himself honor to call during day. H. W." 
 
 Faithfully had the messenger made the indicated 
 round, fetching up at the Rutherfords' last on the list. 
 The man servant answering the bell said the major had 
 not been there for months, but as the lad turned away, 
 a portly personage in black issued from underneath the 
 
HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 133 
 
 steps and called to him. It was then after dark, al- 
 most seven, but holding the yellow brown envelope 
 near the lighted basement window Forbes read the 
 address. 
 
 "Leave it with me," said he, "and I'll see that the 
 gentleman gets it." But this the lad would not do, 
 in spite of inducements, and so was bidden to say 
 that it would be well to come back again toward ten 
 o'clock. 
 
 Just at ten o'clock, therefore, the messenger returned ; 
 found a carriage standing at the curb, and, being ad- 
 mitted to the vestibule and bidden to deliver his dis- 
 patch the major being now within and engaged with 
 Mrs. Rutherford asked for a receipt, and thus having 
 to wait became witness to a singular scene and con- 
 versation. 
 
 Down the broad carpeted stairs, five minutes after his 
 arrival, came the tall, soldierly form so well known to 
 every bell boy of the old New York Hotel, Forbes fol- 
 lowing with catlike steps at his very heels and speak- 
 ing in low tone, and hurriedly, over the major's 
 shoulder. They had not reached the marble-tiled hall- 
 way when brisk steps were heard without ; a key clicked 
 at the latch ; the front door flew open "After you, sir," 
 exclaimed a blithe young voice, at which both Wallis 
 and the butler visibly started. Then entered in undress 
 uniform, a blue "circular" thrown over his shoulders, 
 Bernard Hoyt, close followed by the young head of the 
 household, Gerald Rutherford. Then under the bril- 
 liant gas jet four men, two on a side, two at the door- 
 
134 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 way, two near the foot of the spiral stairs, stood staring 
 each at the opposite pair. 
 
 Wallis was the first to speak. Low and stern was 
 his voice, though tremulous with passion, as with quick, 
 impatient stride he crossed the intervening space and 
 stood squarely confronting his younger yet utterly un- 
 daunted antagonist. 
 
 "You are the man I've been seeking for three 
 months," said he, all the drawl and dawdle gone from 
 voice and manner, a snap and ring to every word. 
 "This is a most fortunate accident, yet I should have 
 found you in the morning. Where, sir, can a message 
 quickest reach you outside these walls ?" 
 
 "From you, Major Wallis," was the cool, firm, self- 
 contained reply, though the speaker's blue eyes were 
 blazing, "nowhere! Even if I would accept a challenge 
 at a time when my country needs my life, I should deny 
 you a meeting. Now, sir move out of my way." 
 
 "By heaven!" cried Wallis, for once unmanned and 
 beside himself with fury, yet even then and there re- 
 membering that women lay within earshot and that no 
 encounter by any possibility should occur at a gentle- 
 man's fireside. "Be a coward if you will, but don't 
 tempt me to thrash you here. My coat, Forbes," he 
 ordered, turning trembling with wrath to the butler. 
 Then, throwing the overcoat over his arm, hat in hand, 
 he stepped a pace nearer his immovable foe. "Make 
 way yourself, Captain Hoyt. It is ydur superior officer 
 who speaks." 
 
 "You are in error, Major Wallis," was the cool reply, 
 
HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER. 135 
 
 and the dark cape, falling back from the broad shoulder, 
 revealed the new, glistening strap, the silver spread- 
 eagle within its frame of gold. "You are speaking to 
 your superior Colonel Hoyt of the th New York 
 Cavalry." 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 
 
 THE wintry days came on in the camps about 
 Washington. The flag of the South still floated 
 defiantly at Munson's Hill and in sight of the unfin- 
 ished dome of the great white capitol. Infantry drilled 
 hard by brigade or battalion, artillery by battery and 
 cavalry by escort, it being apparently the theory in 
 the minds of those at the head of matters military that 
 horse troops had no higher function. It was not the 
 first, nor was it the last, time the War Department 
 essayed a campaign without "the eyes of the army." 
 Later on, as in later wars, the government sent its 
 squadrons with lavish hand, but decidedly late in the 
 day. 
 
 And thus it happened that that gallant regiment of 
 light dragoons the th New York, Colonel Hoyt, 
 remained about its wooden barracks, and spent long 
 weeks practicing "right cut" and "raise pistol," and 
 wondering when they might hope to see Virginia or to 
 straddle a horse. Officers and men grow restless, not 
 to say vicious, under such monotonous inaction. Col- 
 onels have hard times keeping order in their commands. 
 From shouting with joy at having that accomplished 
 
 136 
 
WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 137 
 
 young regular, their zealous instructor, placed at their 
 head as colonel, the th had gone to the opposite ex- 
 treme of cursing, both loud and deep, the inflexible 
 disciplinarian who demanded that officers should attend 
 drills, roll-calls and recitations, and men all manner of 
 duties by day, and all be in bed instead of bar-rooms 
 by night. 
 
 It was then that the saloon-inspired writers of certain 
 journals began prating of martinets in office and misery 
 in the ranks of the gallant volunteers, and that legis- 
 lators at Albany, with other candidates in view, leveled 
 ringing denunciation at West Point satraps in general 
 and this one in particular ; encouraged whereby, certain 
 of the disaffected among the commissioned list thought 
 the time ripe for rebellion, and, by way of giving the 
 colonel to understand that he couldn't run that regi- 
 ment, deliberately cut drill one December afternoon and 
 took the adjutant with them. Not a sign did the colonel 
 give that anything was amiss. When the officer-of-the- 
 day suggested that probably the colonel wouldn't care 
 to have parade, the adjutant and several officers being 
 away, the colonel replied that he had for some time 
 thought their places could be better filled, and directed 
 Second-Lieutenant Rutherford to act as adjutant, and 
 certain subalterns to command the four companies 
 whose captains were missing. The regiment was then 
 surprised, if not chagrined, to find that "young Tow- 
 head" had far more snap, style, and a much better voice 
 and word of command than the Albany-appointed adju- 
 tant whom Hoyt had found in office when first assigned 
 
138 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 to duty. The regiment was not so much surprised, per- 
 haps, to learn on the morrow that four captains and the 
 adjutant, together with half a dozen misguided subal- 
 terns, were ordered in close arrest. Then down came 
 angry assemblymen from up the Hudson, and aldermen 
 from both sides of the East River, and they stormed 
 among themselves and sent a deputation to lay down the 
 law to the colonel, who received them with calm civility, 
 but countered heavily by quoting laws that, being na- 
 tional, were unknown to pothouse politicians, and sent 
 the solons back to the saloons, discomfited. There was a 
 brief ebullition about the barracks that evening, owing 
 to fiery remarks and potations indulged in by certain 
 of the visitors, to the end that two more officers went 
 into arrest, twenty men into the guard-house and four 
 prominent local "heelers" into outer darkness, forbid- 
 den to return to the barrack square on penalty of find- 
 ing themselves, with their friends, behind the bars. 
 Heavens ! Didn't certain Brooklyn and Gotham journals 
 rave over the High-Handed Outrage ! ! ! ! Didn't the 
 papers generally exploit the ringing resolutions passed 
 by the Michael D. Groggins Club, the P. M. Sheehan 
 Assembly, the Manhattan Minute Men, and still the 
 imperturbable colonel "stood pat." The legislature 
 failed to pass the vote of censure demanded by the law- 
 makers of the lower districts. A level-headed governor 
 sent a soldier of his staff, himself a power in Manhattan 
 politics, to report the situation, and the soldier went 
 back and said the colonel was right, the cabal all wrong, 
 and then, rather than face court-martial or further 
 
WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 139 
 
 service under a man who could make them do what 
 they never before had done obey, three captains and 
 four lieutenants resigned. Others apologized and were 
 told to take their, swords and return to duty, and the 
 final "kick" and protest came when, matters quieting 
 down a little, the colonel issued an order relieving First 
 Lieutenant M. P. Phelan from duty as adjutant; ap- 
 pointing First Lieutenant Gerald Rutherford (recently 
 promoted vice Lynch, resigned) to succeed him, and 
 directing Lieutenant Phelan to report for duty forth- 
 with to Captain Rasp, Troop "K," a veteran dragoon 
 sergeant who had served ten years in the regulars and 
 was the terror of the laggard or the lax. Then, indeed, 
 did there come protest, even from official sources. 
 Young Phelan was the son of "Old Man" Phelan who 
 swung the vote of a whole ward; ran with Big Six; 
 spent money lavishly at every election and absorbed it 
 unblushingly between times. Adjutant Phelan, said 
 the statesmen, could no more be made to do duty as any 
 other kind of lieutenant than could a captain be reduced 
 or a major be made captain by order of the colonel. 
 He was appointed and commissioned adjutant, said 
 Phelanites by the hundred, but Hoyt refused to be 
 Phelanized and referred them to the laws of the United 
 States. An irate party went on to Washington to "fix 
 the thing" with the new War Secretary a good Demo- 
 crat, it was said, and so not past reasoning with and 
 came back stampeded. The new War Secretary told 
 them in so many words that the regiment, having been 
 mustered in, was no longer a New York but a national 
 
140 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 organization, and would be governed by the laws and 
 regulations which obtained in the army. 
 
 "Moreover," said he, "I should like to see that colonel 
 of yours, he has the right stuff in him." So Hoyt 
 was sustained and the valiant "Light Dragoons" sub- 
 mitted with modified sorrow, and then, to the exuberant 
 joy of most of that chastened command, there came 
 intimation that it would be sent forthwith to Wash- 
 ington : Stanton seemed to think that colonel might be 
 of use in Virginia. 
 
 Three months earlier Hoyt would have welcomed the 
 order. He had been most eager to go, and might have 
 been spared very much of all this wear and tear had the 
 regiment been sent to the front in the first place. But 
 matters far removed from the professional, yet appeal- 
 ingly near to his heart, had taken a strange turn in 
 Gotham. Ethel Rutherford, who had been so cordial 
 in her welcome when at first he came with Gerald; 
 who had been so grateful when he handed Gerald his 
 first commission, and who should have been so pleased 
 and proud when later this man, who had proved himself 
 so fitted to command, had chosen her brother as his con- 
 fidential staff officer and given him the most prominent 
 and desirable berth a lieutenant could hold had barely 
 thanked him at all ; was becoming constrained and fitful, 
 if not actually cold and reserved, and this, too, when 
 her manner had begun to give him reason to hope that, 
 after all, a soldier might aspire. 
 
 For the week following that rencontre between the 
 two field officers Hoyt of the volunteer cavalry, Wallis 
 
WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 141 
 
 of the regular infantry, Gerald when with his mother 
 and sister could talk of hardly anything else. He 
 gloried in the triumph of his friend and hero. He mar- 
 veled that his mother seemed so strangely distressed 
 that Major Wallis should have been braved and defeated 
 within her doors. She hoped oh, she hoped no harm 
 would come of it! that he would not be deeply of- 
 fended! that he would not allow it to influence him 
 against them ! until Gerald stared at her, open mouthed, 
 and Ethel gazed in wonderment and distress. What 
 possible difference, demanded Gerald, could it make 
 what Wallis might think ? He was clearly in the wrong, 
 and in view of all that had happened and the suspicions 
 attaching to Major Wallis, Gerald considered her 
 anxiety or sympathy, or whatever it might be inex- 
 plicable. 
 
 And so, too, at first did Ethel ; and, though she could 
 not speak upon the subject to Colonel Hoyt, she could 
 and did to Gerald, and several serious talks had the 
 brother and sister. Twice or thrice, indeed, over the 
 breakfast toast and eggs they found themselves im- 
 pelled to refer to it. Then one evening at dinner when 
 Hoyt was there something was said about an item that 
 had just appeared in the Post, then lying on the library 
 table a letter from Washington, announcing that an 
 important arrest had been made by secret service officers 
 the previous day, the arrest of a civilian for whom 
 they had been looking for some time, and who, hav- 
 ing been "shadowed" on arrival by train from Balti- 
 more, had been arrested as he came forth in totally 
 
i 4 2 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 different garb from that he wore on entering the house 
 of an officer of high rank. 
 
 "It is high time something was being done," said 
 Gerald. "We know Washington is full of spies." 
 
 "Do you know at whose house this arrest was made?" 
 asked Hoyt, quietly, "or, at least, who lived in that 
 house?" this with a glance at Ethel, and then a long 
 look at Forbes, just leaving the room, tray in hand, and 
 Forbes stopped suddenly and busied himself about some 
 trifles on the stand at the doorway. 
 
 "No," said Ethel, looking up expectant. And the 
 colonel's eyes were still fixed on Forbes as, with some 
 little emphasis, he continued: 
 
 "Major Wallis's, and the arrested man was Forno." 
 
 Whereat the tray slipped with a bang and rattle to 
 the floor, and Forbes seemed long in recovering it and 
 his own balance. 
 
 Then it seems Hoyt had been writing letters to 
 officers who had been with Anderson at Fort Sumter 
 to Seabrook who was Ralph Rutherford's second when 
 he fought that fatal duel, and to others cognizant of 
 club talk at the time, for Gerald saw letters come for his 
 colonel addressed in handwriting he had seen before in 
 his mother's possession, for she, poor lady, had impor- 
 tuned almost everybody who knew her martyred, mur- 
 dered boy murdered wantonly, she would have it 
 and so taught her surviving children to believe, and so 
 told Hoyt when first he came to see her on his return 
 from the West, and one day when Gerald went suddenly 
 into the colonel's office at the barracks he heard these 
 
WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 143 
 
 words from the lips of a stranger officer, in well-worn 
 uniform, with tarnished red shoulder-straps, who fin- 
 ished his sentence as the new adjutant entered and 
 before he noted the colonel's sign of warning : 
 
 "A woman was the real cause not the quarrel at the 
 club." 
 
 The speaker colored to the brows when, on the instant 
 almost cutting off his words the colonel said, ''Cap- 
 tain Seabrook, let me present Mr. Gerald Rutherford, 
 adjutant of the regiment," and colored still more when 
 Gerald innocently asked : 
 
 "Captain Seabrook, of Fort Sumter?" 
 
 "The same, Mr. Rutherford. I had the pleasure of 
 knowing your brother the sorrow of being his second. 
 Your mother has honored me with a few letters." 
 
 And when Gerald told his mother of this meeting 
 she became much agitated and begged to know where 
 the captain was to be found; she wished much to see 
 him, and had he said anything? had Gerald heard? 
 and Gerald, remembering what he had heard, and 
 remembering the shock with which he had heard, re- 
 plied that in no other w r ay whatever had Ralph's name 
 been mentioned, which, though misleading, was true. 
 The young man felt well assured they were talking of 
 his brother and therefore sought to draw particulars 
 from Hoyt, but all to no purpose. 
 
 Then the invalid herself asked that the colonel should 
 come to her, and there had been a talk that left her 
 sad, tearful and unstrung. She begged that Seabrook 
 might be found. She longed to see him, too, but Sea- 
 
144 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 brook was gone. Then Ethel almost demanded of her 
 mother that she tell her what all this mystery meant, 
 but the mother would not, and the poor lady begged her 
 daughter not to press the question now that later, if 
 she survived, she would tell her all, please God and 
 then both women looking up, startled, saw that inscrut- 
 able Forbes, apologetic and super-respectful, bowing at 
 the curtained entrance. He begged the ladies' pardon, 
 but he had given Joyce "permission to go h'out a w'ile 
 Joyce's 'ead was, beg pardon, h'aching. Would the 
 colonel and the captain be 'ome to dinner?" Forbes 
 revolted at the idea of a Rutherford in arms being 
 of lower rank than captain. But the ladies could not 
 answer. Only at rare intervals did these zealous offi- 
 cers permit themselves to leave their station at the 
 barracks back of Williamsburgh, and rarer still were 
 they able to send word of their coming a matter 
 that gave to no one in the household more concern than 
 Hortense, who spent many an hour abroad now, yet 
 was never away, if she could help it, when Hoyt was 
 in the house. 
 
 It was an odd thing that, though he slept at barracks 
 with his regiment; spent all his days and most of 
 his evenings there, and had moved much of his 
 belongings thither, Colonel Hoyt still retained one of 
 the rooms he had occupied in Eleventh Street the one 
 whose windows opened on the interior of the block and 
 gave a glimpse, at least, of that glass-covered gallery 
 at the back of the Rutherford mansion the gallery 
 wherein Forbes had set that light and its strong re- 
 
WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 145 
 
 fleeter. It was odd, too, that Forbes should have taken 
 measures to ascertain if it were the case that the colonel 
 was frequently there. Prince, the darky who tended 
 door, answered the calls and blacked the boots of the 
 half dozen lodgers in the house, mentioned casually to 
 the colonel when that officer looked in on his trunks and 
 boxes one November evening, that Forbes had asked 
 such questions, and Hoyt had merely said, "Indeed!" 
 All the same the colonel never went to the room that he 
 didn't go to the windows and gaze from there at the 
 rear of the Rutherford house. Prince saw him from 
 the yard, and went to see, whenever the colonel came, 
 and Prince's theory was that the colonel was looking 
 at Miss Rutherford's windows, for servants' halls along 
 the block were quite well informed as to the colonel's 
 evident regard. But no more did Forbes set that daz- 
 zling light to shine along the back porches. 
 
 Then one bright December Sunday they came walk- 
 ing home from church, Hoyt and other officers being 
 conspicuous, for all was quiet on the Potomac, the South 
 blockading it at Mathias Point and fever housing Mc- 
 Clellan in Washington. Miss Rutherford flushed a bit 
 at the piercing glance from Lorna Brenham's bright 
 eyes, as that brilliant and unterrified upholder of 
 Southern rights encountered them. Miss Brenham was 
 pleased to be in exuberant mood and hailed them, 
 blithely : 
 
 "You and Colonel Hoyt ought to stop in and see 
 the Charleston papers at our house," said she, saucily. 
 "Lots of news about people we know. Colonel Gordon, 
 
146 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Colonel Haines, Major Forno, and who else, Mr. 
 Granger ?" she demanded of the devotee at her side. 
 
 "What about Haines?" asked Hoyt, in smiling 
 amusement, raising his forage-cap to the lady, but quite 
 ignoring Granger. He exasperated Lorna Brenham 
 because he would never take her seriously, and only 
 laughed at her diatribes. Her dark eyes flashed as she 
 answered him. 
 
 "He counts on coming North for the summer, as 
 usual, and bringing a host with him," was the half 
 merry, half defiant answer. "And Forno's with him 
 now, you know, wearing the gray. Won't Newport 
 and Saratoga and the Point be heavenly? And where 
 on earth will we put them all?" she continued; then, 
 radiant and beautiful, turned laughing away to greet 
 others of her friends. Lorna's manner at this stage of 
 the game was that of a queen, with estates and orders 
 and honors to confer on those she fancied. Beyond all 
 doubt she counted on seeing the star of the South float- 
 ing speedily over the City Hall. 
 
 "Why don't you tell her what you knew of Forno? 
 7 shall. I won't have her triumphing over us in that 
 way," said Ethel, angrily, her own eyes flashing now, 
 her cheeks burning, as they went on homeward in the 
 decorous, solemn promenade. 
 
 "Because I am not sure," he answered, slowly, "that 
 I do know." 
 
 "You said he'd been arrested at at in Washing- 
 ton," spoke Miss Rutherford, with something very like 
 asperity the tone that the best of women will some- 
 
WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 147 
 
 times employ in rebuke to the man of whom they feel 
 sure. 
 
 "I should have said, Ethel, that the dispatch shown 
 me at the General's that afternoon so stated." 
 
 "Do you mean you don't believe it?" 
 
 "Wait we're almost home. Good morning, Mrs. 
 Leroy good morning, Miss Gertrude," and again the 
 cavalry cap came off in greeting to these near neighbors, 
 and Ethel's eyes beamed with the sweetness of expres- 
 sion the well-bred maiden commands even at moments 
 of much irritation. There had been too many far too 
 many secrets in the house of late that Hoyt seemed to 
 share, and from which she was excluded, and the time 
 had come to make him feel it. Gerald, in his becoming 
 uniform, was striding slowly up the avenue by Grace 
 Minturn's side. Mrs. Rutherford had felt too feeble 
 to attend service that morning, and had been left in 
 the charge of Hortense. There was no one in the par- 
 lor, said the servant at the door, and Ethel thither led 
 the way ; then turned upon her escort : 
 
 "First, what is this mystery about Major Forno, for 
 I think you know?" 
 
 "Ethel, I do not know, unless it be that he has a 
 double." 
 
 "What has he to do with Major Wallis ? What have 
 they either or both to do with mother ? What have 
 you heard? What do you know that they know of 
 Ralph?" And now Ethel stood confronting him; her 
 fair face flushed; her clear, brave eyes flashing. Well 
 she knew he was her own soldier, her knight, her cham- 
 
148 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 pion, her brother's loyal friend and defender, yet there 
 was something he and they and all of them were keeping 
 from her something about him whom she had loved 
 and looked up to with all the adoration a young girl 
 feels for a fond, indulgent big brother something 
 Gerald did not know something mother would not tell 
 something Bernard Hoyt should tell here and now or 
 feel the weight of her displeasure. 
 
 "Ethel, ask yourself whose letters were those you 
 lost that Sunday so long ago," he gently spoke. 
 
 "Three of Ralph's," she answered promptly, "that 
 mother gave me to carry that she meant to show the 
 rector after service, but was taken ill. What has that to 
 do with this ?" 
 
 "Think again, Ethel. Do you not know what letters 
 were stolen from your mother's desk?" 
 
 "Ralph's, yes. And knowing how she prized them, 
 read them over and over,, no wonder she wept at losing 
 them. But what earthly value would they have to any 
 one else ?" 
 
 "Some one has risked state's prison to get them, or 
 else others filed with them, dear, and risked it, as I be- 
 lieve, to bring harm and shame on a name that I love 
 as I do my own. You have not been kind to me of 
 late" 
 
 "You have not been fair with me," she broke in hotly. 
 "You have withheld from me what I ought to know, if 
 I am to be of any use to mother if I am not to be 
 treated as a child, and again I ask you, and for the 
 last time, Colonel Hoyt, what is the story that is sap- 
 
WHO IS MAJOR FORNO? 149 
 
 ping mother's life? Is it of Ralph? for I will 
 know it!" 
 
 "Ethel," he said, gravely, gently, sadly, "I ask you 
 to trust it to me a little longer. I beg you not to make 
 me tell you now, because because, as I live, I don't 
 and won't believe it because, please God, I hope to live 
 to learn the true one, and then to lay it, with What is 
 it, Forbes?" And with angry stride the soldier sped 
 across the parlor and tore aside the heavy curtains at 
 the archway. 
 
 "I beg pardon, sir," said the butler, most respectfully, 
 caught as he would have stolen away, "but I heard 
 voices and thought the colonel called me, sir." 
 
 And then came Gerald bursting in from the front 
 door, joyous, excited. "A telegram, just sent by the 
 officer-of-the-day, Colonel came this morning." 
 
 In breathless silence Hoyt tore it open, read first to 
 himself and then aloud : 
 
 "Have your regiment in readiness to move to-mor- 
 row." Slowly, thoughtfully he folded it, his blue eyes 
 on her paling face. "I had hoped to know more to 
 tell you more before I left New York," said he, his voice 
 trembling just a bit. "Now I see no way until the 
 war is over." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA. 
 
 MEANTIME, despite sore trials never mentioned 
 to the world, the dashing commandant of 
 Greble Barracks was still hard at work perfecting the 
 drill and discipline of his new, yet already famous, regi- 
 ment of regulars. Most of his officers were gentlemen 
 of education from civil life, college-bred men, society 
 men, "cadets" of good families. Several had been 
 schooled in the New York Seventh, and, though all 
 were made to feel the distance by which they were 
 separated from the regimental commander, all, with- 
 out exception, conceded his brilliant attainments and 
 admired his skill, knowledge and unquestioned gift for 
 command. "If he were only a general," said his senior 
 captain, "Wallis could do something in this war." 
 
 "He will never get to be a general or anything like 
 it," was the answer of a thoughtful elder. "He has 
 antagonized the adjutant general; he ignores the Sec- 
 retary ; he truckles to nobody, and in his contemptuous 
 independence he persists in being intimate with persona 
 decidedly non-grata with the government. I tell you 
 that he is simply killing his own chances and he's 
 booked for trouble." 
 
GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA. . 151 
 
 The words of Captain Campion seemed actually 
 prophetic when, one sparkling winter morning, when 
 even Washington felt the sting of the frost, secret 
 service officials tracked a bundled-up traveler in 
 slouch hat, spectacles, muffler and cloak from the 
 Baltimore cars to a hack and from the hack to the 
 lodgings of Major Wallis, and, less than an hour later, 
 arrested the new arrival as he came forth minus slouch 
 hat, spectacles, cloak and muffler, looking very dapper 
 and soldierly, and whisked him away to a room at the 
 old War Department. 
 
 Thither, too, was Wallis speedily summoned, and 
 anything more dignified than the demeanor of these 
 two attainted gentlemen could not be imagined. Mr. 
 or Major Forno, as they called him, before the 
 arrival of Wallis, had submitted with calm protest, 
 but unruffled composure, to the search ordered by the 
 chief officer present, and not a paper of consequence 
 was found upon his person. Wallis, when called upon 
 by an official of the War Department to account for 
 his entertaining a man who was known to have been 
 in Charleston and Savannah, consorting with Confed- 
 erate leaders, within a fortnight, replied with utter 
 sang froid that he could not be expected to possess 
 the information of the secret service that all he knew 
 of the gentleman's movements was what he derived 
 from the gentleman himself. The gentleman said he 
 had just come from New York, and had spent some 
 time there and in Boston and other cities. The gen- 
 tleman had entertained him in days before the un- 
 
152 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 happy difference between the sections, and he had 
 most assuredly sought to return the gentleman's hos- 
 pitality. If the gentleman were in any way connected 
 with the Confederate service the fact had not been 
 confided to him, Major Wallis, and so, having at no 
 time referred to the suspected person as either Mr. 
 or Major Forno, with a languid yawn, Major Wallis 
 begged leave to acquaint his examiner with the fact 
 that it lacked less than an hour to drill time. 
 
 This, too, was told at dinners and receptions dur- 
 ing the gay holiday season, and made Wallis even 
 more a marked man in every gathering he attended. 
 What struck many people as strange as the winter 
 wore on, was that the less Wallis was seen about the 
 White House or War Department the more was he in 
 evidence among McClellan's chosen friends. Intimates 
 the latter had but three or four, and these, unhappily, 
 were not of the administration circle. And so, while the 
 new teenth Infantry, with its thoroughbred looking 
 officers, its veteran sergeants, culled from many an 
 old line organization that Wallis had known, and its 
 superior class of young soldiers in the ranks, was for- 
 ever being paraded under its brilliant commander for 
 review, inspection, or some other full dress function 
 at the instance of the general heading the army, and 
 by consequence Wallis and his favorite officers were 
 perpetually figuring in ''high society," he and his fel- 
 lows were referred to with ominous words when re- 
 ferred to at all by the advisers of the grim new Secre- 
 tary, already beginning to take the bit in his strong 
 
GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA. 153 
 
 teeth and to pull hard at the restraining hands in the 
 White House. 
 
 Then another incident occurred that meant more 
 trouble for Wallis. Of course he had made no men- 
 tion of the scene between himself and Hoyt the night 
 at the Rutherfords, but you may be sure it was some- 
 thing Gerald could not keep to himself, and had told 
 with consummate glee in letters to Barclay, Bronson 
 and others who were his intimates at Columbia and in 
 the Seventh, and were now young officers of the regu- 
 lar service. The story fairly flew about the scattered 
 camps of the batteries, the cavalry and the two or 
 three battalions of foot in town. Then one glorious 
 day in January, all but the mud, a great regiment in 
 absolute uniform, complete equipment and fine condi- 
 tion as to foot drill, marched into camp alongside a 
 veteran troop of regulars, and in less than a week, 
 with its brand new horses chosen and colored accord- 
 ing to squadron, with ambling, wall-eyed, "cream- 
 laid" whites for the band, the whole command, 
 coached by experienced soldiers, Hoyt's own old 
 frontier friends and devoted followers, was learning 
 the mysteries of grooming, feeding, bitting, bridling, 
 saddling, sitting bare-back, blanket-back or in the 
 split-tree pigskin. So engrossed was the colonel in his 
 work he seldom if ever went to town, and so never 
 saw the wrathful Wallis until mid February and then 
 only by the latter's planning and contriving. 
 
 A strange unrest had seized on Mrs. Rutherford 
 ever since she heard of Forno's capture, his subse- 
 
154 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 quent release, because nothing whatever of incrim- 
 inating character had been found, and then his total 
 disappearance. She wished to see Wallis, who said 
 he was refused leave to go to New York. She begged 
 for the address of Captain Seabrook, who, with his 
 battery, had gone to West Virginia. She plied friends 
 of influence with questions as to Forno, to the end 
 that great curiosity was excited, but nothing definite 
 learned beyond the fact that the bearer of that name 
 had been traced to Port Tobacco, and, as the Confed- 
 erate guns at Mathias Point still ruled the Potomac, 
 it was an easy matter for any one with money or 
 influence to come and go across at will. Forno was 
 doubtless back under the sheltering wing of the Con- 
 federacy. 
 
 But why the mischief, was the question, did he risk 
 that visit to Washington? What could he possibly 
 have gained? 
 
 There were no secret service officers to search him 
 on his return to Richmond. Even had there been, the 
 papers found would have failed to attaint him of polit- 
 ical crime, though they might have landed him before 
 a police court. 
 
 Then, with Forno gone beyond reach, Mrs. Ruth- 
 erford decided she must be near Gerald again while 
 yet there was time, and good Dr. Tracy said by all 
 means take her ; she \vas fretting her heart out here at 
 home. Willard's was crowded, but a parlor was 
 fitted up as boudoir and bedroom for the invalid lady 
 and her daughter. Hortense was given a tiny closet 
 
GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA. 155 
 
 on an upper floor, whereat she grumbled greatly. 
 Gerald had been sent to town to meet them, and 
 the day after their arrival Hoyt rode in to pay his 
 respects. 
 
 So long as the colonel remained at camp and re- 
 fused to mingle in society there had been no way in 
 which Wallis could reach him. A note he had sent 
 by a distinguished civilian friend, a man who had con- 
 ducted more than one cartel in the past and had been 
 an authority on the code duello in Congressional and 
 social circles as well as such clubs as then existed. 
 Briefly, Wallis stated that the wrongs and indignities 
 he had received at the hands of Colonel Hoyt were 
 insupportable, past amende, and he demanded the 
 satisfaction due from one who considered himself an 
 officer and a gentleman. Wallis did not mince words 
 in the least. Trial by court-martial would have been 
 the result had Hoyt betrayed him, but that officer 
 contented himself by saying flatly that he would not 
 accord Major Wallis a meeting and would receive 
 no more communications from him. The gentleman 
 messenger expressed amaze and said that a year ago 
 such refusal would have subjected an officer to ostra- 
 cism in both army and civil circles, and began to say 
 something about "posting" as a necessary conse- 
 quence, whereat Hoyt said that if his principal con- 
 sidered it advisable to make the matter public by all 
 means let him do so, and then bowed his visitor to 
 the door. 
 
 Wallis was furious, yet prudent. His civilian friend 
 
156 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 was a Virginian and a Southern sympathizer who, 
 while seeing that times had changed, could not yet 
 realize how very much, and so was for having Wallis 
 pull the colonel's nose in front of the regiment, but 
 Wallis laid the case before a veteran on McClellan's 
 staff who had himself been '"out" on more than one 
 occasion. The old soldier listened thoughtfully. 
 
 "You can't post Hoyt," said he. " 'Twould do no 
 harm to him, for every man of us that ever served in 
 the West knows how brave a fellow he is. It would 
 only hurt you, for the War Department loves you none 
 too well and might order an investigation. Two years 
 ago I would not say what I must say now, that is 
 drop it." And the decision was unalterable. 
 
 But Wallis burned with hate and sense of wrong. 
 Something he must and would do to punish Hoyt, and 
 this is what he did and how he did it: 
 
 The colonel rode in to dine with the ladies the third 
 evening after their coming; dismounted in front of 
 Willard's and sent the orderly with the horses to a 
 neighboring stable. Gerald, previously arrived, was 
 with his mother on the second floor. The marble- 
 tiled office was crowded with men, many in uniform 
 and of all grades from general down, though the prov- 
 ost marshal's people saw to it that only those duly 
 authorized to be absent from camp or station were 
 allowed to loiter about town. Hoyt's soldierly form, 
 youthful face and the high rank betokened by his 
 handsome uniform attracted much attention. The 
 roads were deep with mud, and his high cavalry boots 
 
GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA. 157 
 
 and glistening spurs, that had been immaculate when 
 he left camp, now needed the attention of expert 
 hands, as some of Willard's boys had learned to 
 be. Chatting awhile with certain New York relatives 
 of one of his officers, Hoyt remained some fifteen min- 
 utes in the porter's room. Meanwhile another lad 
 slipped up to the parlor floor and presently the tall, 
 strikingly distinguished figure of Major Wallis came 
 sauntering down. It was noticed at the time that the 
 major's face was strangely pale ; that his eyes glittered 
 eagerly as he glanced about the lobby, and that he 
 nervously switched the light rattan cane he carried. 
 He, too, was in complete and immaculate uniform, 
 but, like Hoyt and others of our army when not on 
 duty, wore neither belt nor side arms. He languidly, 
 drawlingly responded to the many salutations, but was 
 evidently looking for some one and presently that 
 some one came. 
 
 Still listening to the eager talk of the Gothamites, 
 Hoyt walked forward through the throng, making for 
 the desk, his right hand fumbling in the breast of his 
 coat in search of his card-case. He reached the coun- 
 ter, touching his cap to a general officer as he passed 
 and never hearing the low-toned exclamation of an 
 aide-de-camp, "By Jove, there's Wallis, too! We 
 can't have trouble here!" It was while Hoyt was 
 standing at the desk, his right hand still prisoned in 
 his coat, that Wallis, with swift, elastic stride, burst 
 through the crowd; made straight at the unconscious 
 officer, and reached forth his left hand as though to 
 
158 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 grasp the colonel's shoulder and whirl him about so 
 that he might face him as he dealt his blow. Then 
 up flew the light cane, poised for the fierce attack 
 and there was seized and grasped by a muscular hand, 
 while a stern voice said : "Drop it, sir, at once or I'll 
 send for the guard," and Wallis, with livid face, looked 
 into the eyes of a soldier with whom there was no 
 trifling, whether he wore the garb of a troop com- 
 mander or, as now, the guise of a general. 
 
 "I yield, sir, to your rank and authority," said Wal- 
 lis, with mechanical salute, and left his stick in his 
 superior's grasp, as without another word, he turned, 
 stalked through the curious throng and disappeared 
 upon the crowded avenue. 
 
 "Something's got to be done to bring that fellow to 
 terms," was the verdict of the War Department when 
 the story reached there, as it did next day, and op- 
 portunity was not lacking. Old "Meejor" Mullins, 
 nearly thirty-five years in the army and only just pro- 
 moted lieutenant-colonel of one of the old single bat- 
 talion regiments, was there in Washington, a brave, 
 brainless, butt-headed campaigner, laughingly known 
 to all the line as a pompous incompetent of the fossil- 
 iferous class, who could neither drill, discipline nor 
 command any more than he could ride, yet sturdily 
 believed he could do all that man could do. He had 
 good backers in a powerful political element not en- 
 tirely dissociated with the Church of Rome. The lieu- 
 tenant-colonel of the new teenth knew well that he 
 would never have to join with that rank, and that the 
 
GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA. 159 
 
 double stars were ahead if he had any luck at all. A 
 telegram was sent and answered. A transfer was or- 
 dered Lieutenant-Colonel Brinton (Brigadier Gen- 
 eral, U. S. V.) going from the teenth to the d 
 and Lieutenant-Colonel Michael Mullins, recently 
 promoted, coming from the d, in which he had 
 legged it over the Llano Estacado and charged at 
 Chapultepec, ordered to assume command of the post 
 of Greble Barracks and the swellest regiment of regu- 
 lars in the Army of the Potomac McClellan's pets, 
 the social lions, the splendidly drilled, the "Silver 
 Spoons" (an envious reference to their handsome mess 
 kit) the officers and men whom Wallis had made 
 and moulded and from whose head he must now 
 step down to the insignificance of second in com- 
 mand. 
 
 But the teenth were wild with wrath, as certain 
 others were with wicked glees, and the teenth 
 nearly revolted at the thought of red-nosed old Mi- 
 chael, with his brogue and his gay Irish banter, seated 
 at the head of the mess table (Wallis's pride and 
 glory), receiving guests and visitors; commanding 
 with his squat, bulbous figure on parade and drill, and 
 lording it over these men of standing and substance 
 in their communities at home. If the enemies and 
 detractors, the maligners and slanderers of Harold 
 Wallis thought to see him crushed, chagrined and 
 humiliated (and, mind you, there was a gang of them 
 there to witness Michael's first parade and to crow 
 over Wallis's coming up with the line at command 
 
160 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 of his heart-broken adjutant), there was disappoint- 
 ment in store for them and a sore one. "He'll shirk 
 it," said they. "He won't be there." But they little 
 knew Harold Wallis. There he was, more blithe and 
 debonair than he had seemed for many a day. With 
 all the officers in full dress uniform assembled at the 
 mess hall; with the regimental colors at the head of 
 the beautifully garnished table; with the fine band, 
 that he had worked so hard and spent so much to per- 
 fect, stationed just without the walls; the board set 
 with all their bravery of snowy linen and glistening 
 silver and crystal (much of it borrowed for the occa- 
 sion, as was the huge punch bowl, from a neighbor- 
 ing caterer); with guests bidden from McClellan's 
 staff, and from adjacent camps, aye, even from the 
 walls of the War Department; the champagne flowed 
 and frothed and bubbled, and men marveled much at 
 the wondrous ease and grace w r ith which Wallis pre- 
 sided; at his courtly greeting to every guest, some of 
 whom he had airily snubbed within the week; at his 
 glowing cordiality to honest old Mullins, who, ex- 
 pecting anything but this, knew not what to make 
 of it all, but beamed and blushed and tossed his glass 
 to man after man. And then, when as master of the 
 informal feast, the major had formally toasted the 
 President of the United States, and called on a dis- 
 tinguished Senator to respond (the Senator who had 
 gone with his grace of St. Patrick's to plead the cause 
 of Lieutenant-Colonel Mike with both President and 
 Secretary, and so lead to the unseating of the brilliant 
 
GARRY OWEN NA GLORIA. 161 
 
 host himself), and that rotund and equable statesman 
 had nimbly responded, the band, in some way failing 
 to get the cue, did not strike up as expected, but Wal- 
 lis, never at a loss, was at once on his feet and in 
 eloquent words referred to the long and heroic serv- 
 ices of the distinguished soldier to-day their guest 
 of honor. His foot had trod almost every mile of the 
 broad frontier; his hand had been ever as open as his 
 honest heart; his sword had cleft its way from the 
 battlements of San Juan de Ulloa to the sacred halls 
 of the Montezumas, following the flag of his adopted 
 country. His fame had been long linked with that of 
 one of the historic regiments of our ever glorious 
 service, and now, honored and acclaimed, he had come 
 to assume the leadership of this new but enthusiastic 
 command, and with bumpers all and a three times 
 three he pledged the faith and loyalty of every officer 
 and man to the gallant veteran on his right, and pro- 
 posed long life and health to the genial, great hearted 
 and gladly welcomed colonel Michael Mullins, long 
 of the famous fighting d and now commander of 
 the loyal teenth. 
 
 Up rose everybody but the abashed, overwhelmed, 
 yet delighted Michael. Glasses were drained; napkins 
 tossed in air; the table, sideboard, walls and windows 
 hammered; and in the midst of it all the triumphant 
 strains of the band at last became audible in the glori- 
 ous national air it should have played when the Presi- 
 dent was toasted, and Wallis, turning to a little group 
 of men, some few of his own set, but most all from 
 
162 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 other commands; never heeding who heard, speaking 
 only in whimsical wrath at the contretemps, impetu- 
 ously cried: 
 
 "Oh, damn the Star Spangled Banner! That 
 should have been Garry Owen!" 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A NIGHT PATROL. 
 
 MARCH came and went. The army went and 
 came. The President took the bit in his 
 teeth and ordered McClellan to move. McClellan 
 moved as far as Fairfax and back to Alexandria. 
 Some few of his people went forward as far as did 
 McDowell the previous summer and stayed about 
 as long the enemy obligingly falling back to the line 
 of the Rapidan, and politely inviting McClellan to 
 come that way or any other he might select and be 
 sure of a warm reception. The Army of the Poto- 
 mac took a ride on the river from which it took its 
 name; landed at the lower end of the storied Penin- 
 sula, and felt its way out to Yorktown, where it spent 
 some weeks practicing siege operations, losing some 
 men and much time, trying to manceuver, among 
 others, one J. B. Magruder out of his trenches. An 
 old friend of Wallis was Magruder and a famous 
 entertainer in his day so good that even now higher 
 powers at Richmond thought it needless to supplant 
 him and only moderately to reinforce. His old bat- 
 tery of the First Artillery was there before him (its 
 gallant captain, his successor, being behind him much 
 of the previous Fall at Libby, a result of wounds re- 
 
 163 
 
164 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 ceived at First Bull Run), but the mess silver was 
 still at regimental headquarters, whither Magruder 
 could not go, and in that silver had he long had almost 
 parental interest. .. It was pleasant, however, to see, 
 even at a distance, the familiar old guidon. It was 
 pleasant to realize that, even in hostile array, there 
 were so many old boon companions in the blue ranks 
 investing him. It was charming to surround him- 
 self with the fortifications first thrown up by Lord 
 Cornwallis, and with something of the state that ever 
 hedged that accomplished officer and genial gentle- 
 man. It was delightful to receive through the lines 
 facetious greetings from his erstwhile companions 
 in arms, and, in the contemplation of certain visiting 
 cards bearing old familiar names, to permit grim- 
 visaged War to smooth his wrinkled front. It did 
 no great harm to the cause of either side at the 
 front, at least, and the mention of it did so stir up 
 Stanton at the rear. It tickled Magruder to hear 
 that Stanton waxed wrathful over the accounts that 
 began to reach him instead of those he had hoped for 
 to the effect that McClellan had carried the lines by 
 assault. It amused Major Wallis not a little that he 
 should on two or three occasions find himself within 
 saluting distance, almost, of officers high on the roster 
 of the Confederate service as well as on that of his 
 personal friends, and, on the two or three other oc- 
 casions when a flag of truce passed between the lines, 
 it happened that Wallis was on hand to hear every- 
 thing that took place. It was even said that, without 
 
A NIGHT PATROL. 165 
 
 the medium of the flag of truce, or of the signal corps, 
 communication had been held with the enemy, mainly 
 at night, and of this no man knew more than did 
 Harold Wallis, who was forever riding about from 
 camp to camp. A staff officer was he now, no longer 
 on duty with the "Silver Spoons," and, being no 
 longer under the spur of the Secretary or his chosen 
 coterie at Washington, there was nobody who cared 
 to cross purposes with a man so manifestly favored 
 as was this envied and gifted major. 
 
 It had been thoroughly understood at the Depart- 
 ment that Wallis was to be subjected to the humilia- 
 tion of serving as second in command to honest old 
 Mullins kept on duty in a subordinate capacity with 
 the officers and men he had practically "formed," if 
 not made, and compelled to feel that he was being 
 punished for his sins. There were men about Wash- 
 ington to whom he might have been sent for dis- 
 cipline old campaigners who would have rejoiced 
 in giving it. Indeed, it had been planned that the 
 "Spoons" should be attached to a brigade of regu- 
 lars where Wallis could be made to do duty and toe 
 the mark according to the views and wishes of men of 
 the Stanton type. But, so far from showing the least 
 chagrin or concern, Wallis had apparently accepted 
 the changed conditions with the utmost complaisance. 
 He fairly overwhelmed Mullins with cordiality on 
 all social occasions and with demonstrations of re- 
 spect and esteem when on duty. He responded with 
 apparent alacrity to every requirement or order. He 
 
i66 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 took Mullins into his confidence, as it were, and told 
 him of the innumerable wheels within wheels of diplo- 
 matic society at the capital; consulted him as to invi- 
 tations to dine here, to dance there, to drive with 
 this or that fair one; giving the veteran to under- 
 stand he was embarrassed at times in choosing be- 
 tween them because of the atmosphere of disloyalty, 
 if not treason, that permeated the social sphere about 
 them. He whispered little "pointers" as to prominent 
 matrons in the court circle, all to the end that the de- 
 lighted elder declared "the meejor is a divil of a fellow, 
 and by no means the stuck-up snob so many people 
 make him out to be." In a week Wallis had him as 
 plastic as putty, and was coming and going with al- 
 most as much freedom as when himself in command. 
 In ten days he was practically again in command of 
 the regiment, for he could most adroitly steer Mullins 
 into almost any plan of action by convincing that 
 rotund patriot that the project was of his, the 
 senior's, own devising. Then, however, when the War 
 Department would have interposed and had some- 
 body warn Mullins of the actual state of affairs, Mc- 
 Clellan made his start for the Peninsula and conceived 
 it necessary to have another staff officer one to shine 
 at headquarters and properly impress his foreign vol- 
 unteer aides, the Prince de Joinville and his nephews 
 of the House of Orleans, as well as one or two gentle- 
 men from other sections of Europe, studying the art 
 of war as practiced in the United States of America. 
 Wallis spoke French fluently if not well, and Erench 
 
A NIGHT PATROL. 167 
 
 was the court language of Christendom. The Secre- 
 tary, it was reported, swore volubly when told of Mc- 
 Clellan's choice, but the law endorsed it, and with well 
 simulated sorrow Wallis bade adieu to Mullins and 
 the teenth; predicted their speedy meeting again 
 on the Peninsula, and left them for the flotilla before 
 Stanton could find means to overthrow the plan. 
 Wallis was there at McClellan's headquarters, blithe, 
 full of chat and spirits, ready for anything day or night 
 as they lay in front of Yorktown. He was much 
 given to studying guards and pickets; much inter- 
 ested in outpost duty; a most accomplished, if some- 
 what patronizing, instructor of the volunteer regi- 
 ments of which the army was mainly composed, for, 
 except a detachment or two for provost guard, the 
 regular infantry that later made up Sykes's Division 
 were not sent to McClellan until toward summer. 
 In fine, Wallis made his mark in the April camps of 
 the lower Peninsula almost as indelibly as he had upon 
 the Silver Spoons at Washington, and there were 
 statesmen from the North, visiting their home regi- 
 ments and being received with much empresscment at 
 certain headquarters messes, who went home quite 
 full of the idea of urging their respective governors to 
 tender a regiment to Major Wallis, and were quite as 
 much surprised at the summary refusal of the War 
 Department to permit the major to be so employed. 
 
 One soft May evening there was a late gathering 
 about the headquarters tent of a famous division com- 
 mander, a prime favorite with the commanding gen- 
 
i68 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 eraL, who, while himself a prime favorite with most 
 officers and men, was still chary in his own selection 
 of friends and counselors. There had been a heavy 
 cannonade from the Confederate lines earlier in the 
 evening. It was a dark night, too, as many remem- 
 bered later, for the waning moon was obscured by 
 heavy clouds. A moist wind was sweeping up from 
 the southeast, yet campfires were at a discount be- 
 cause they attracted gnats and mosquitoes. Officers 
 having occasion to make the rounds took lanterns, as 
 a rule, and when Wallis came riding in from the front 
 and, throwing the reins to his orderly as he dis- 
 mounted, joined the circle seated in the dim rays of 
 the swinging lamp, some one ventured to remark that 
 it was taking chances to be prowling about in such 
 pitchy darkness so near the enemy's lines. "You look 
 sharp, Wallis/' continued the speaker "first thing 
 you know we'll hear of your dining with Magruder." 
 
 Even in that faint and uncertain light there was 
 no mistaking the sudden start with which Wallis turned. 
 His eyes fairly glittered as they fastened on the of- 
 fending officer. There w T as a moment of awkward 
 silence just a second or two yet even then there were 
 men who marveled at the quickness with which Wallis 
 recovered himself, and at the almost insolent noncha- 
 lance of the reply : 
 
 "No such luck, I fancy. Prince John has a better 
 table than de Joinville and can lisp a better story. I'd 
 like it, of all things, for a change." Then the airy 
 manner vanished on the instant as he turned all sol- 
 
A NIGHT PATROL. 169 
 
 dier now, to the handsome, bearded division com- 
 mander, "General, may I speak with you a moment?" 
 
 And rising, the general led the way within the tent. 
 The broad white flaps dropped behind them and another 
 silence, awkward almost as the first, fell on the seated 
 circle. One officer, a young aide-de-camp, who had 
 been an attentive listener, arose and started away. 
 Another hailed him he who had so recently accosted 
 Wallis "What's your hurry, Barclay? I'll go with 
 you." 
 
 But Barclay gave no heed. Swiftly he was striding 
 away toward the dim lights of some neighboring tents. 
 Every man in the party had heard in some way that 
 there was a feud between the dashing major and this 
 young New Yorker, now serving at headquarters of 
 the Fourth Corps. Some few had heard of the affair 
 at Camp Cameron the previous summer. One of them, 
 he who hailed, was himself a New Yorker; a man of 
 the old Seventh ; a friend of the Rutherfords and, as 
 Barclay had almost palpably ignored him, he spoke his 
 next words in apparent pique. 
 
 "Don't want to have to meet Wallis, I suppose, yet 
 they used to be thick as thieves! What made Wallis 
 turn on me so pointedly I'd like to know? I've said 
 nothing to rile him." 
 
 The question was hardly asked in hope of answer. 
 It was propounded rather through the necessity of 
 utterance than with the expectation even of a hearer. 
 At more than one campfire had the story been whis- 
 pered that, on more than one occasion, the pickets de- 
 
ryo A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 clared Major Wallis had passed beyond the lines at 
 night, alone and unattended, carrying no lantern and 
 remaining out at the front sometimes more than an 
 hour. At more than one mess was it known that Eu- 
 gene Wallis, after changing his coat, had risen to a 
 captain's commission in the Confederate service, and had 
 been on duty in and about Richmond during the winter. 
 These two stories made a combination Wallis the elder 
 might well have looked upon with anxiety had he been 
 a man regardful of public comment. One officer there 
 was, riding with the chief of the little cavalry brigade, 
 who had thought enough of Wallis to tell him bluntly of 
 the tales in circulation, and was either hurt or angered 
 by the gay disdain with which his well-meant warning 
 had been received. At all events he no more favored 
 the dashing soldier with his counsel. One general there 
 was, not of the McClellan coterie, who had known the 
 Wallis family many a year; had loved the father and 
 was near him when he fell in Mexico, and now \vould 
 gladly have stood between the son and scandal; but 
 ever since the early winter, when the veteran officer had 
 sought for old times' sake to warn the younger, a gulf 
 had begun to grow between them. Wallis had treated 
 his remonstrance as cavalierly as he later had the warn- 
 ings of his trooper friend, and now, there was one corps 
 headquarters which he never visited save when sent on 
 duty. But that, said those who noted it, might be due 
 to Barclay's presence there, for he and Barclay passed 
 each other without recognition of any kind. And, on 
 this moist May evening, of the dozen officers gathered 
 
A NIGHT PATROL. 171 
 
 about the tents of the division staff, probably not one 
 had failed to note how sharply Wallis turned on the 
 unwitting disturber of his equanimity, and then how 
 suddenly Barclay had turned away. 
 
 It was a trait of Wallis's when his personal affairs 
 were trenched upon, even in thoughtless speech, to 
 make the offender feel the sting of his displeasure, gen- 
 erally by exaggerated hauteur of manner, coupled with 
 some icy sarcasm. To-night, however, he had quit the 
 field content, apparently, to get away without having 
 to encounter further question or comment. "Riled" 
 he might have been. Startled he certainly was, but 
 sharply though he had turned, sharply he had not 
 spoken. Something seemed to warn him in the nick 
 of time that it were best to stir no rancor, but even 
 to pass the matter over as too trivial for further remark. 
 Not so, however, did the others regard it; for, in the 
 silence that followed that one comment on Barclay's 
 withdrawal, men looked at each other and then at the 
 tent within whose walls the general and his visitor were 
 now in low-toned conversation. There was not one 
 that did not see in Wallis's manner something that lent 
 confirmation to the story floating about the camp, and 
 Barclay had gone rather than see or hear more of it. 
 
 That night, somewhere about twelve, the field officer- 
 of-the-day in passing the front of the Vermont Brigade 
 was accosted by a young lieutenant, commanding 
 the support of certain pickets along the Warwick. 
 "Major," said he, "my sentries out near the creek report 
 a great deal of stir and movement among the rebs. 
 
172 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Lights have been flitting about over there toward South- 
 all's Landing. We reported it to Major Wallis, who 
 was out here half an hour ago, but he said it meant 
 nothing. He went out and looked and listened." 
 
 "Where is he now?" asked the division officer, with 
 evident interest. 
 
 "Gone over to the right, I suppose, sir. At least he 
 didn't return this way." 
 
 The officer stood in silence a moment and in deep 
 thought. He was one of those many soldiers that came 
 the first few months of the war, high in rank among 
 the earlier regiments from the New England and 
 Middle States men of reading, knowledge and pro- 
 fessional standing, imbued with lofty patriotism and 
 deep sense of duty, lacking almost everything in the 
 way of experience in matters military, but gifted with 
 the reasoning powers and general education that 
 speedily set them on a plane with those possessing all 
 that constant touch and contact with the regulars could 
 possibly furnish, but had studied little else. To such as 
 these Major Wallis had been an object lesson all the 
 days he rode in command of the newly raised teenth. 
 They watched him on drill and parade with eyes that 
 envied not a little the ease and grace, the power and 
 swing of his command ; then went back to their tactics 
 and read, memorized and compared to the end that they 
 found themselves constantly benefited by the lesson and 
 speedily able to drill and handle their own battalions 
 with far more skill and celerity than would otherwise 
 have been possible. To such men as this New England 
 
A NIGHT PATROL. 173 
 
 major, learned in the law, and steadied and strength- 
 ened by Harvard schooling, Wallis was a soldier who 
 gave promise of great results. They looked upon him, 
 for the first few months, with infinite admiration and 
 respect, and were slow to confess to themselves and 
 loath to admit to others that, as they speedily broadened 
 in the field of martial experience, he as surely nar- 
 rowed in their esteem. It was not good in the eyes of 
 men so loyal to the flag, so fervently alive to the national 
 peril and need that this mould of military form, the 
 observed of so many observers, should seem to hold so 
 lightly men and methods that were the necessity of the 
 hour, and deserving, so they thought, the most zealous 
 and conscientious support of all loyal soldiers. It 
 shocked them there is no lighter word for it that 
 Wallis should so often speak contemptuously of the new 
 war secretary and so often refer in terms almost dis- 
 dainful of their great executive and commander-in- 
 chief. It startled them to hear this brilliant staff officer, 
 and therefore, possibly, ex offrcio exponent of the views 
 of the commanding general, so frequently sneer at 
 the plans, and so flippantly dispose of the members of 
 the President's official household. And it rankled in the 
 breasts of many of their number that Wallis should 
 so often speak in terms of boundless admiration of men 
 prominent in the Southern service and so seldom find 
 words of confidence or respect for those that wore the 
 blue. Add to all this the incessant buzz and talk about 
 his disregard of the observance of ordinary precautions ; 
 his constant goings to and fro at the far front; his 
 
174 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 nonchalant treatment of officers and sentries along the 
 picket line, who, in the performance of their duties, 
 sought to curb or at least to warn him; his excursions 
 and long absences after dark, and the soldier reader 
 can see at a glance that Harold Wallis had more than 
 undermined his own repute, for stories such as these 
 are most destructive. It nettles men to have their 
 cautions or commands ignored, and among these "think- 
 ing bayonets" of the volunteers were dozens who had 
 seen and talked with the major along the front, and of 
 him not too guardedly at the campfires later; and this 
 particular field officer-of-the-day of the Fourth Corps 
 was thinking of all this as he remounted after listening 
 to the report of the officer of the picket and thinking, 
 too, of the events of the earlier evening. That cannon- 
 ade had been of unusual vehemence for two or three 
 hours the Southern guns from Yorktown clear over 
 to Southall's on the Warwick, opening furiously on the 
 Union lines, and keeping up their fire with lively 
 interest long after the sun went down. Some officers 
 held it to be the prelude to a sortie, and there were 
 division commanders who thought it wise to hold their 
 men in ranks, and to double their advance posts. One 
 or two had gone so far as to acquaint McClellan with 
 their theories, and were rewarded by the placid and im- 
 perturbable smile which that courteous commander had 
 ever in reserve for those whose views were at variance 
 with his own. Whether sortie or not, the cannonade 
 portended something, however, said men like Keyes and 
 old "Bull" Sumner. McClellan had npt taken the War 
 
A NIGHT PATROL. 175 
 
 Department into his confidence during the long months 
 of weary waiting, and, when it came to naming corps 
 commanders in the spring, there may have been retalia- 
 tion. At least, more than one was not of McClellan's 
 choosing, and he little liked it that any of their number 
 should say Magruder or his fellows meant a move of 
 any kind when he would will it otherwise. 
 
 Yet here was confirmation of the views expressed by 
 generals not of the court circle. Something certainly 
 was astir beyond the Warwick, and it had been re- 
 ported to one of the headquarters staff, had it ? and he 
 said there was nothing in it, did he ? and was still some- 
 where out there to the right front, was he? H'm 
 Major Holman stroked his beard; left his horse with 
 the support and, taking his bearings from the sergeant 
 of the nearest picket, the stars being obscured, felt his 
 way out to the Warwick front for further observation 
 on his own account. 
 
 Only toward the center and right of the Fourth Corps 
 had there been comparatively close touch with the 
 Confederate pickets. The center and left were covered 
 by the swampy banks of the lower Warwick, and no 
 reports of consequence came this night from the out- 
 lying sentries there. It was over in front of Southall's, 
 and along the road to Lee's Mills, the flitting lights had 
 been seen, the sounds of movement noted; and some- 
 where toward one o'clock Major Holman, crouching 
 with a corporal and sentry at the side of a muddy lane, 
 and straining their ears to catch the sounds still coming 
 at intervals from the farther side of the stream, were 
 
176 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 joined by another officer creeping through the darkness 
 from the rearward line. In muffled whisper he gave 
 his name, Lieutenant Barclay, and accosted Major 
 Holman : 
 
 "They told me you were out here somewhere, and 
 the general was anxious to hear further, so I came on 
 in search of you. Anything new ?" 
 
 As if in answer, somewhere ahead, in the dim vista 
 of the narrow roadway, there sounded the shrill, im- 
 patient neigh of a horse. 
 
 "Odd," muttered Holman. "I should think those 
 fellows knew enough not to ride so close to us. That 
 horse can't be a hundred yards away." 
 
 "It isn't those fellows, sir," answered the corporal, 
 with quiet decision. "That's one of our own Major 
 Wallis." 
 
 "You don't mean you permitted him to go out, 
 mounted, in front of the line !" exclaimed Major Hol- 
 man, angered and excited at once. 
 
 "Permitted nothing of the sort, sir," was the answer, 
 prompt and aggrieved. "He must have passed out some- 
 where else. He was outside and rode in from the out- 
 side half an hour ago said there was a tree there from 
 which he could hear everything going on across the 
 bridge. I had no order to make him come inside." 
 
 "I feel that / have some authority in the premises, 
 however," spoke the major, in low yet excited under- 
 tone. "If he can be safe out there so can we. Shall we 
 try it, Mr. Barclay?" 
 
 And without verbal answer, Barclay rose at once and 
 
A NIGHT PATROL. 177 
 
 followed. Fifteen, twenty yards they gropea through 
 the darkness, and finally reached the little clump of 
 bushes near the roadside. Noiseless and wary, speak- 
 ing no word, they crouched here and listened. For a 
 moment only an occasional stir of leaf or stamp of hoof 
 rewarded their patience. Then again began that shrill, 
 impatient neigh, close at hand ; then followed the sound 
 of a sharp blow, a low-toned, angry "Shut up, you 
 fool !" half drowned in the instant sputter of iron-shod 
 feet, as the animal started at the blow. Then deeper, 
 quieter tones reproach and sympathy intermingled. 
 
 "Steady, old fellow ! Steady, boy !" Then "How can 
 you be such a brute, Eugene? If your horse won't 
 stand away from his mates you shouldn't bring him." 
 And Holman felt that Barclay's hand, landing at that 
 instant on his arm, was trembling violently. It was 
 the voice of Major Wallis beyond shadow of a doubt. 
 
 "Are you armed?" whispered Holman. 
 
 "Revolver," answered Barclay. 
 
 "We must get that fellow with him. Better shed our 
 swords here." 
 
 Silently Barclay strove to unfasten the slings, but his 
 fingers twitched unaccountably. Impatient, therefore, 
 he drew off belt and all and laid them on the sod, as 
 Holman had done with his. The clumsy weapon of that 
 day would indeed only have been in the way in the dark- 
 ness. The low murmur of voices still continued one 
 voice querulous, protesting, complaining, the other deep 
 and commanding, yet at times almost pleading. "Come 
 on," whispered Holman, and together the two went 
 
178 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 creeping forward, only to step, one of them, on some 
 dry, fallen branch that snapped short under the heavily 
 booted foot and gave instant alarm. Sharp and sud- 
 den, but still low, came the soldier challenge. "Halt! 
 Who are you ?" emphasized by the click of a lock. 
 
 "Field officer-of-the-day ! Halt you and him with 
 you ! Surrender !" came the vehement answer in Hoi- 
 man's firm tones. 
 
 "Oh ah!" and then an airy laugh. "Is that you, 
 major? We're out on the same errand, I fancy. 
 They've been doing some hauling to and fro, apparently. 
 Guns, I should judge " 
 
 "Major Wallis," burst in Holman, insistent and de- 
 termined, "there was some one with you! Where is 
 he?" for in the dim light no other form was distinguish- 
 able. Nor was there sound of retreating footfall. 
 
 "Did you hear them, too? Why didn't I know you 
 were there we might have nabbed them! Two of 
 them, I think ah if not indeed more a Confederate 
 patrol, probably, that I ran across here in the woods, 
 and had some difficulty in ah in persuading them 
 that I was one of their own people. You can imagine 
 how ah relieved I was to hear your footsteps." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A GRAVE ACCUSATION. 
 
 AT two o'clock on the moist and misty morning of 
 the fourth of May all about McClellan's field 
 headquarters in front of Yorktown, with the exception 
 of the guard and one staff officer, seemed wrapped in 
 peaceful repose. Major Wallis, returned to his tent, 
 had not even stirred up his negro servant to pull off his 
 wet riding boots. Major Holman, on the other hand, 
 at a distant point of the line, had stirred up half a dozen 
 officers in the Fourth Corps, and gone again to the front, 
 convinced that matters in the neighborhood of Lee's 
 Mills would bear looking into. 
 
 To begin with, while he had stood for the moment, 
 parleying with Wallis in front of the picket line, Bar- 
 clay had made a dash forward in pursuit of a figure only 
 dimly seen apparently stealing across the road some 
 dozen yards away. In the thick darkness, however, he 
 had missed his man. But the fact that one and only 
 one was then seen, coupled with the further fact that a 
 horse was heard trotting off through the trees and then 
 galloping toward the Warwick, threw grave doubt on 
 Wallis's tale of the patrol. Furthermore, Barclay had 
 heard both voices and the mention of the name Eugene 
 things he had no time to explain to Holman then 
 
 179 
 
i8o A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 when that officer insisted on escorting Major Wallis 
 back to the line, but that had determined him not to 
 abandon the search. He was still there when Holman 
 left with Wallis in practically enforced escort, but he 
 was gone, and no man within the Union lines could say 
 how or whither, when, ten minutes later, Holman again 
 reached the spot, bringing with him a sergeant and a 
 squad of Green Mountain boys. They searched; they 
 whistled low; they called in cautious tone; they even 
 advanced the sentry line as much as a hundred yards, 
 and, having passed the point where the interview had 
 taken place, dared to light lanterns and scout the road 
 and the scattered timber, and all without rousing a shot 
 from the usually over-ready riflemen along the stream. 
 The early dawn brought to Holman the unwelcome con- 
 viction that his young comrade had been spirited away, 
 and that after all there must have been a patrol. The 
 later dawn, the rosy light that tells of the speedy com- 
 ing of the sun, told even more, that the muffled sounds 
 of stir and movement in the Southern lines across the 
 Warwick had indeed meant something more than shift- 
 ing guns. All that was left of Johnny Reb was a brace 
 of scarecrow, dummy sentries, in tattered gray in front 
 of the mills. Magruder and his accomplished fellow 
 soldiers, Longstreet and D. H. Hill, had been skillfully 
 withdrawn by their commander, Joe Johnston, and 
 were now in leisurely retreat toward Richmond. 
 
 And not for a moment, would it seem, had the move- 
 ment, though begun early the night of the third, been 
 credited or suspected in McClellan's charmed circle at 
 
A GRAVE ACCUSATION. 181 
 
 headquarters. The news came like a shock, but found 
 the chieftain calm and placid as before. Not until noon 
 was a column ready to start in pursuit. Settled down 
 for siege operations as was the army, even the cavalry 
 could not set forth without something to eat ; but when 
 they finally started, Harold Wallis went with them. He 
 had been riding about in a fume of energy and eager- 
 ness since the coming of the news soon after sunrise. 
 He knew something of the country, was the explana- 
 tion, more of it, at least, than did any other officer 
 of the staff, for he had spent much time at Richmond 
 and at Fortress Monroe years before, and had been the 
 guest of old-time families along the York when snipe 
 and canvasback, respectively, were ripe for shooting. 
 He, at least, had shown unwonted excitement at the 
 tidings ; had indeed seemed for a moment almost dazed ; 
 for, only the evening before when more than one officer 
 of rank had come in to speak of the significant sounds 
 along the front,, Wallis had been heard to pooh-pooh the 
 idea of a possible evacuation of the rebel works. "Joe 
 Johnston wouldn't think of such a thing," said he, "so 
 long as we can only attack in front." Yet morning 
 came to prove Joe Johnston gone and Wallis a much 
 mistaken man a much disgusted and disturbed man, 
 too, unless all signs failed, for never had the debonair 
 major been known to show such haste and discomposure. 
 He seemed to dread the possibility of being questioned. 
 He seemed consumed with eagerness to get away, and, 
 in all the scurry and excitement that prevailed along the 
 Union lines only scant attention was given the story 
 
i8 2 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 that Lieutenant Barclay of the Fourth Corps had been 
 captured after midnight, and there was no time until 
 some days later to investigate the strange report of 
 Major Holman, late field officer-of-the-day. 
 
 Holman, of course, had gone with his division, one 
 of the two started soon after noon. Hooker, from the 
 Third Corps, pushing out on the right, skirting the 
 abandoned works at Yorktown, while "Baldy" Smith, 
 of the Fourth Corps, filed into the road where Wallis 
 had had more than one scout on his own account, and 
 strode away through the gathering storm, en route for 
 Williamsburg by way of the Mills. Even in the 
 eagerness of pursuit, some men would stray and go to 
 exploring the vacated camp grounds of their recent 
 entertainers, and some of these unhallowed spirits came 
 upon curious mementos of Magruder's occupation of a 
 comfortable, old-fashioned Virginia homestead, not so 
 very far from the Skiff's Creek Road. Champagne 
 bottles were there in profusion, and the disjecta membra 
 of not long finished feasts. And while the general 
 movement of the rebs had been leisurely and composed, 
 there were indications of unseemly haste about Prince 
 John's premises indications later explained by the fact 
 that he had been called upon to head the procession 
 toward the interior, leaving to young Jeb Stuart, with 
 his Virginia Horse, the duty of covering the extreme 
 rear. In point of fact, Prince John must have quit in 
 something of a hurry, said officers who glanced over 
 the mementos picked up by the men, for some of these 
 were of such a character that, when they were shown to 
 
A GRAVE ACCUSATION. 183 
 
 the general commanding the last brigade in column to 
 cross the Warwick by the lower road, he gave vent to an 
 expletive that startled every man of his staff. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when the cavalry caught 
 up with the Confederate rear guard, well out in front 
 of Williamsburg. The latter had some six hours' start, 
 but waited and wanted to be caught and wondered 
 when they reached the Half -Way House why Stone- 
 man's troopers were not in sight, and what all this 
 placid indifference to their coming or going could pos- 
 sibly mean. If this was a specimen of Yankee curiosity, 
 there was nothing harmful in it. If, on the other hand, 
 it was all meant as indicative of contemptuous disdain, 
 then was it indeed offensive, and something should be 
 done forthwith to show McClellan the Southern cavalier 
 was not a fellow to be trifled with. So Stuart's men 
 deployed ; and when, through the lowering rain clouds, 
 the dripping ponchos of the regulars began to show 
 down the muddy road, they saluted the coming force 
 with a crackle of carbines that brought the skirmishers' 
 "front into line" at swift trot, and so, despite the in- 
 clemency of the weather, the May day picnic began in 
 all its jollity. 
 
 But meanwhile the imperturbable head of the army 
 was leisurely, after his fashion, proceeding to make 
 himself comfortable in Yorktown. After investing a 
 position something like a month, and much money in 
 siege trains, mortar batteries and big guns; employ- 
 ing engineers in planning trench approaches, parallels, 
 platforms and the like, and many men in making sap 
 
184 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 rollers, fascines and gabions by the acre, it did seem 
 to him disappointing on the part of Johnston to per- 
 mit all this outlay of time, money, field works and 
 war material and then, just when Little Mac felt pre- 
 pared for a big time, and had invited his guests to 
 see the bombardment begin, these unchivalric South- 
 rons should slip quietly away and leave none but grin- 
 ning darkies to receive the strangers within their 
 gates. Field officers of the Holman type knew not 
 what to make of this sort of a siege, anyhow. In all 
 they had ever read or heard of, the doomed city was 
 surrounded by the besiegers, cut off from supplies 
 or reinforcements, and compelled, eventually at least, 
 to capitulate with the honors of war. But here this 
 noted organizer and distinguished engineer laid siege 
 to a practically straight line, flanked by impassable 
 streams and provided with a natural ditch, a line the 
 defenders could hold with small force against a big 
 one, hold as long as they cared to or quit when they 
 liked. Yet there was astonishment and deep chagrin 
 in these well arranged headquarters that Johnston 
 should have been so unfeeling as to abandon works 
 as yet unfelt. Headquarters moved within the lines 
 of the historic town, content with having sent Hooker 
 and Smith to keep the enemy going; and, from having 
 felt sure that Johnston would stay to fight along the 
 Warwick, headquarters seemed now as sure he 
 wouldn't stay to fight at all, even at Williamsburg, 
 where he had another line of forts. So Stoneman, 
 with the cavalry, and Sumner and Heintzelman, with 
 
A GRAVE ACCUSATION. 185 
 
 a division apiece instead of a corps, and conflicting 
 instructions instead of concert of action, rode out to 
 the west, each of the two leaders supposing himself 
 to be in sole charge of the pursuing force and both 
 getting boggled up through orders and cross roads 
 alike confusing. Smith's men got into the way of 
 Hooker; Hooker crossed over and took, as a result, 
 the way intended for Smith; and neither, as a conse- 
 quence, was near at hand when needed late that 
 afternoon, where good old Uncle Bill Emory, with 
 Dick Rush's Pennsylvania lancers and Jeff. Davis's 
 former pets of the Fifth regulars, stirred up Stuart 
 himself and might then and there have headed off the 
 most brilliant and daring career known to cavalry 
 tradition had there been any kind of support. Then 
 came a night of wet wanderings through mud and 
 tangle, and marchings to and fro till after ten, when 
 the battle lines lay down in the woods and woke up 
 fronting the bristling works of Williamsburg. 
 
 Sumner by this time was sore-headed ; Heintzelman 
 in a pet; Hooker, who had started on the right, had 
 got over to the left. Smith, who had started on the 
 left, was now over at the right; and Couch, Casey and 
 Kearny, who had followed the advance with their di- 
 visions, were bivouacked along the wood roads within 
 supporting distance and without supper. Three corps 
 commanders put their heads together in the early 
 morning and tried to put their corps; but, only five 
 divisions being on the ground, and inextricably mixed 
 at that, division was impossible. In pelting rain, in 
 
i86 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 sticky mud and minus plan of any kind except ''pitch 
 in," the battle of Williamsburg began soon after the 
 dripping dawn, and lasted here and there until the 
 night, Hooker bearing all the onus on the left, Han- 
 cock all the honors on the right. Through utter lack 
 of concerted action or a common head, five fine divi- 
 sions fought or fumed through much of the livelong 
 day, while McClellan, back at Yorktown, was placidly 
 supervising the steamboat excursion planned for his 
 friends of Franklin's and Fitz John Porter's fine com- 
 mands, and seemed quite surprised when told toward 
 three o'clock that things were more than mixed, and 
 that he would better hie him to the front. We had 
 lost five guns and twice a thousand men in fruitless 
 fighting when, at five o'clock, staff officers came spur- 
 ring out to say that victory and Little Mac were com- 
 ing. Whereat, like little men, both volunteer and 
 regular, our gallant lads set up their heartiest cheer 
 and straightened out their lines to do him proper 
 honor. Three heads are better than one, say wise- 
 acres who know nothing of war, and if that be so, 
 what blessed mercy it was we had, like Cerberus, the 
 tripled cephalus: with only one we might have lost 
 our all. 
 
 But there were men that day that fought magnifi- 
 cently, and for many it was their baptism of fire. 
 Hooker hammered away and got hammered for hours 
 at a time, with never a man or musket to help. Han- 
 cock led his brigade across a narrow dyke, and 
 handled it as daintily in battle as ever he did on drill, 
 
A GRAVE ACCUSATION. 187 
 
 winning two redoubts and nearly all the glory; while 
 among the soldiers conspicuous for energy, daring 
 and ceaseless effort, having two horses killed under 
 him before the sun was half-way high, and having per- 
 sonally led the charge of two battalions faltering for 
 lack of field officers of their own, Harold Wallis, the 
 debonair major of the Silver Spoons, the brilliant aide- 
 de-camp of the commanding general, the gifted enter- 
 tainer of the House of Orleans Harold Wallis, more 
 than any one man in the six divisions present on the 
 field, had most attracted the cheer and admiration of 
 the fighting lines. Harold Wallis it was who, splashed 
 with mire from head to foot, was first to meet his little 
 chieftain as the latter, late toward evening, reached 
 the still smoke-veiled field, and won from the grate- 
 ful young leader's lips a word or two of praise that 
 went like wildfire through the bivouacs that dismal 
 night, and made him the envied and applauded of ten 
 thousand stalwart men, not one of whom that would 
 not gladly have given a hand for half the praise be- 
 stowed on him. 
 
 But the envied man is seldom too secure: there is 
 no mark so sought by calumny. The very fact that 
 Wallis had so distinguished himself and had further 
 been so singled out for highest commendation was in 
 itself sufficient to start the stings of those whose deeds 
 had been as inconspicuous as their words were now 
 malignant. The army went on up the Peninsula, and 
 so did the story, until the former reached the Chicka- 
 hominy and the latter the Secretary of War, by which 
 
i88 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 time both had outgrown the proportions of the early 
 part of May. The regulars had come to reinforce the 
 one, the Silver Spoons among them, and further tales 
 had speedily been told to reinforce the other; nor were 
 they groundless. 
 
 Williamsburg had made a hero of Harold Wallis 
 among the rank and file as well as among many of 
 their officers. Whatever may have been their opinion 
 of him, based on the stories of his venturings beyond 
 the line and his communication with the soldiers of 
 the South, no man could now say in their presence 
 that he shunned a soldier's part on the field of battle, 
 for braver man they never saw. Even Hancock had 
 not been more superb in leadership. Those who re- 
 membered all his midnight prowlings would now have 
 it that he was periling his life to obtain needed infor- 
 mation for his chief. Those who said he had means 
 of meeting rebel officers between the lines were told 
 he met them as McClellan's confidential officer, to 
 arrange exchange of prisoners or other amenities of 
 war. Yet, at the headquarters of several brigades 
 and those of at least two divisions and one Corps 
 d'Armee, it was known that matter of a compromising 
 character had actually been found and sent to Wash- 
 ington soon after the advance began, that report 
 concerning it had actually been made before the halt 
 at Bottom's Bridge, that McClellan had actually 
 called on Wallis to explain, and there was^ amaze and 
 incredulity in certain quarters when, with the sanction 
 of high authority, the report was set in circulation 
 
A GRAVE ACCUSATION. 189 
 
 that Major Wallis had explained and his explanation 
 was entirely satisfactory to the commanding general. 
 
 Little wonder is it that after this episode the de- 
 meanor of Harold Wallis to those he knew to be de- 
 tractors, and to the dozen he believed to be, became, 
 if possible, more affably disdainful than ever before. 
 He never so much as uttered a word of reproach to 
 Holman, the originator of the first official report to 
 his discredit. ''Major Holman," said he, "was a 
 stranger to my past and to my profession. He saw 
 what he could not understand and what to his limited 
 education in such matters looked suspicious. He 
 acted from sincere motives and supreme ignorance. 
 I have nothing but commiseration for him." 
 
 But when a fellow Silver Spoon told Wallis that there 
 were men in the cavalry brigades and in the horse 
 and field artillery, as well as the Fourth Corps, .who 
 were of Holman's way of thinking, his attitude knew 
 instant change. Barclay had not yet been exchanged, 
 so he could not be responsible. Bernard Hoyt, with 
 his volunteer troopers, was still scouting in front of 
 Washington, so his avowed and open enmity was not 
 the cause of this growing conviction among even the 
 professionals of the Army of the Potomac that Little 
 Mac was being deceived in his trusted staff officer, 
 and Wallis, affecting utter indifference to the calum- 
 nies of the envious, as he declared all tales at his ex- 
 pense to be, and feigning lazy nonchalence even when 
 there were moments when he must have felt the cold- 
 ness and constraint of soldiers honored among their 
 
A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 kind, was now praying for another Williamsburg to 
 help him stifle scandal by further show of brilliant and 
 daring services in action, when there came an episode 
 that set all tongues again to wagging and brought 
 matters to a startling climax. 
 
 It was the night of the almost awful tropic storm 
 that preceded Johnston's furious attack at Fair Oaks; 
 and, in all the crash of thunder and the vivid play of 
 sheet lightning, some horses of a field battery far to 
 the front stampeded, and in their terror broke away 
 westward, straight for the Confederate lines, where 
 they were doubtless made welcome. It so happened 
 that Harold Wallis had been riding that part of the 
 front not twenty minutes earlier, and had taken tem- 
 porary refuge at General Casey's headquarters, when 
 a young Confederate officer, stunned and drenched 
 and well-nigh senseless, was borne in on a blanket. 
 The pickets had heard faint cries for help, and ven- 
 turing forward, had found this luckless soldier close 
 to the line and alone, evidently knocked down in the 
 tornado-like rush of the frantic brutes. While sur- 
 geons tenderly examined and aided him, some papers 
 fell from the open breast of the gray uniform. A 
 major of the staff stooped; picked up the little packet; 
 turned it over, glanced at the superscription, then, 
 visibly paling, looked straight at Wallis, at that mo- 
 ment in low-toned conversation with the veteran 
 division commander. The almost deathlike stillness 
 that fell on the group was broken by his words : 
 
 "Why, Major Wallis, this is addressed to you!" 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SUPREME MOMENT. 
 
 IN all the mud, rain and misery of the fortnight that 
 followed on the heels of Fair Oaks, men went 
 wading about among the shifting camps from Gol- 
 den's to White Oak swamp, and talked for they 
 couldn't help it of this queer business concerning 
 Major Wallis. The story grew as a matter of course. 
 Incessant rain will expand almost anything but tent- 
 cords. Wallis had been sent to the rear in close 
 arrest. Wallis was to be tried by drumhead court- 
 martial that being the most summary of the sum- 
 mary courts then known to military procedure. Wal- 
 lis stood in danger of being shot or hanged. Even 
 among officers of rank there were not lacking ad- 
 vocates of extreme measures, if only for the ex- 
 ample. Wallis and Wallis's disregard of all martial 
 conventionalities in presence of the enemy were de- 
 clared to be proper subjects for severe measures, even 
 by those who had witnessed Wallis's heroism in the 
 battle front. It was not good that so prominent an 
 officer of the Army of the Union should be in such 
 frequent communication with the Army of Virginia 
 no matter what the object. He might satisfy Little 
 Mac and his chosen few of friends that his motives 
 
 191 
 
192 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 were honorable, and that no correspondence of a trea- 
 sonable character had been carried on, but he could 
 not so easily hoodwink the men of the army, where 
 feeling against him was now growing hot and strong. 
 This last episode was the pound that broke the 
 camel's back. 
 
 Perhaps he saw it himself. Perhaps others saw it 
 who stood sufficiently near to the commander to whis- 
 per a word of advice. Certain it is that during that 
 flooded fortnight Wallis was seen no more among the 
 camps to the south of the Chickahominy. The story 
 had gone the rounds that the men themselves swore 
 they'd shoot him if he showed along the picket line. 
 No matter how brave or brilliant a fellow might be in 
 battle, he shouldn't try playing a double game with 
 the soldiers of Uncle Sam. 
 
 But all this time there was another corps in a widely 
 separated camp to the north of the Chickahominy, 
 covering the low ridges beyond Boatswain and Pow- 
 hite swamps, and forming almost an independent com- 
 mand under McClellan's brilliant friend and fellow- 
 soldier, Fitz John Porter. It was an odd state of 
 things, this straddling an army across an unfordable 
 stream, whose bridges those that had stood the tests 
 of years, like Bottom's, and these only of the En- 
 gineers had been swept away and floated toward 
 the James. So thought the patient President at 
 Washington until, under the spur of Stanton, he be- 
 gan to wax impatient and speak. But, the base of 
 supplies being at the time at the White House on 
 
A SUPREME MOMENT. 193 
 
 the Pamunkey, it may have been considered necessary 
 to have it thus covered; and then, said the thousands 
 of stanch upholders of the commander, no matter 
 what the loss of ''touch" between the Fifth Corps and 
 the Army, there was still the closest understanding. 
 This was comfort even though the bridges of Duane 
 and Woodbury the only material connecting links 
 had vanished, and the breach, consisting of broad 
 acres of back water that made lakes of Powhite and 
 Boatswain swamps, had more than visibly widened. 
 There was a week when even gossip couldn't pass 
 'twixt Porter's Corps and that of Franklin, its next 
 of kin, now corduroyed out to the right of the main 
 line, and when gossip can't travel, official matters lag. 
 
 Perhaps this was why it was not generally known 
 that, so far from being in close arrest as the result 
 of the dramatic discovery of the night of Fair Oaks, 
 Harold Wallis was on duty with Fitz John Porter. 
 Even the discovery of a packet plainly marked "For 
 Major H. Wallis, U. S. A.," taken warm from the 
 breast of a Confederate prisoner had not served to 
 stagger him. Silas Casey, soldier and gentleman, had 
 started at sound of the announcement made by the 
 searching officer; had stood erect and looked sternly 
 and scrutinizingly at Wallis, as the suspicious package 
 was handed to the chief of the division staff, who in 
 turn had faced the attainted major, as who would say: 
 "Explain if you can, but remember whatsoever you 
 say may be used against you." 
 
 Long years afterwards they used to tell of that re- 
 
i 9 4 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 markable scene of the almost deathlike silence that 
 fell on the entire party present, broken only by the 
 sullen roar of the rain on the taut-stretched canvas 
 roof of the dim flare of the candle light of the pale, 
 bearded faces and glittering eyes of the few officers 
 present, most of them garbed in waterproof coats and 
 cape caps, such as were worn at the time. In all there 
 were within earshot, including the two doctors and 
 the half drenched, half stunned young Confederate, 
 perhaps a dozen men, and all looked at Wallis, and all, 
 with the exception, possibly, of the prisoner, were 
 amazed at the sang froid the almost contemptuous 
 indifference of his manner on finding himself thus 
 suddenly forced to the "center of the stage." Noth- 
 ing so surely seemed to put Harold Wallis on his 
 mettle as some public and dramatic attempt to over- 
 whelm him, and never did his placid composure and 
 his superb self-command manifest themselves as on 
 this memorable occasion. 
 
 "For me?" he drawled. "Ah tobacco, possibly. 
 You open it ah captain," said he, addressing the 
 staff officer; then deliberately turned his back upon 
 the group, and again, as though the episode had been 
 a mere interruption annoying, perhaps, like a mos- 
 quito, but as easily brushed aside addressed himself 
 to the division commander, "As I was saying, sir, the 
 lines across the Richmond road" and then dropped 
 his voice to the low and confidential tone in which 
 he had been speaking, while the chief of staff, as bid- 
 den, was slowly, somewhat reluctantly, indeed sul- 
 
A SUPREME MOMENT. 195 
 
 lenly, tugging at the fastenings in the midst of a 
 silence now both awkward and wondering. Then, 
 opening the package, presently he spoke: 
 
 'These are papers letters of some kind appar- 
 ently." 
 
 And Wallis heard, yet with unruffled composure, 
 finished his remarks to the mystified general before 
 permitting himself to refer to the interruption. Even 
 then he never turned: 
 
 "Letters of any kind, manifestly, are things I can- 
 not touch. Seal them up, captain, and send them to 
 general headquarters or anywhere you like. Then, 
 general, I shall report to General McClellan that I 
 have examined the position and find it as you say. 
 Good-night, sir. Good-night to you ah gentle- 
 men," and, without a glance at the prisoner, even 
 stifling a yawn as he strode forth into the pelting 
 night, and drawing on his wet gauntlets, Wallis passed 
 them by, called for his horse and rode away into the 
 darkness, leaving a silent, if not indeed, a defeated, 
 party behind. 
 
 The papers some soiled letters they seemed to be 
 without examination were rolled up, sealed and, 
 with a memorandum of the facts connected with their 
 discovery, had been duly forwarded to the headquar- 
 ters of the commanding general. Possibly their com- 
 ing was by that time expected. At all events they 
 were duly receipted for, and the officer bearing them 
 waited in vain for the faintest expression of opinion. 
 Not a word was vouchsafed, 
 
196 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "The peculiar circumstances under which these 
 were received/' he presently remarked, with an em- 
 barrassed cough, "rendered it necessary in the opin- 
 ion of our of a number of those present, that they 
 should be sealed and sent to General McClellan him- 
 self." 
 
 "They'll get there," shortly said the aide-de-camp 
 on duty, and the bearer rode away, dissatisfied. Some 
 men hate to see a sensation spoiled, and this was bil- 
 ious weather. 
 
 But what cannot be accomplished by direct means, 
 under a republican form of government, may be 
 reached in other ways, and ways to Washington were 
 far more numerous than to the right wing of the 
 army, for when calumny is to be carried, the bridges 
 are never down. 
 
 So passed the first fortnight in June. So began and 
 progressed the second, and, whatever might be doing 
 along the Potomac, all seemed quiet here at the front, 
 where the skies cleared, the roads dried and life again 
 became hopeful and joyous. Little Mac had been 
 clamoring for reinforcements without getting them, 
 in the desired number; and the Army of Virginia, now 
 led by Robert E. Lee, had been getting reinforce- 
 ments without clamor. Moreover, more were on the 
 way whose coming might well have given our little 
 leader bitter anxiety. Cutting loose from the Shen- 
 andoah and swinging unopposed clear across from the 
 Blue Ridge to the green-bowered outskirts of Rich- 
 mond, Stonewall Jackson came with his famous "foot 
 
A SUPREME MOMENT. 197 
 
 cavalry" and prepared to creep in and crush that 
 isolated right wing, that splendid corps of Fitz John 
 Porter, stationed there across the now subsided 
 stream. Already the whisperings of deserters and 
 negroes had given warning, and, with the finest divi- 
 sions, the flower of McClellan's Army at his back, 
 the brilliant, bright-eyed soldier changed front to 
 meet the new danger. Jackson might "play horse" 
 with such fellows as we then had in the Valley and in 
 front of Washington, smilingly said the commander 
 of McClellan's crack corps, but what can he do with 
 these? 
 
 And well might he feel implicit confidence as he 
 studied the splendid line facing the Cold Harbors 
 old and new and encircling his headquarters here on 
 the pretty, wooded slopes about the Adams house, 
 this glorious noontide toward the close of June. Off 
 to the east, the right of his line, stood the stanch regu- 
 lars in front -of the McGee homestead. Then, in semi- 
 circle to the left, through the leafy woods, along the 
 gun-dotted curve of low heights lay the brigades of 
 Lovell, Warren, Griffin, Martindale and Butterfield; 
 with Slocum coming in reserve, and a strange, bat- 
 tered angering little division, grouped about their rid- 
 dled colors, bivouacked under the wing of the line. 
 These last were the men of McCall, the Pennsylvania 
 Reserves sent to McClellan, in answer to his insist- 
 ent plea, from the far-away corps of McDowell; sta- 
 tioned for a week "watching bridges" far up the 
 Chickahominy to the west of Porter; left there almost 
 
198 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 by themselves, instead of being welcomed, as it were, 
 within the lines; and there they were hemmed in, 
 pounced upon and pounded heavily by concentrated 
 thousands, until at last their new parent sent forth 
 and brought them within the lines. But the Pennsyl- 
 vanians were sore over such treatment, and some of 
 them showed it. They had gone down to help Mc- 
 Clellan's fellows, and McClellan's fellows or rather 
 McClellan had left them to shift almost for them- 
 selves and get hammered in full hearing of the whole 
 army. Barring the well-grounded disgust of these 
 sturdy but mishandled fellows, there was enthusiastic 
 devotion in Porter's lines to McClellan and his for- 
 tunes. There was universal hope that "Old Jack" 
 might indeed be lurking there in the shady groves to 
 the north and northwest; that those heavy clouds of 
 dust, seen all the previous day, might indeed indicate 
 his presence, ready to try conclusions. 
 
 And down in the level bottom, now dry, between 
 the left bank of the Chickahominy and the swelling 
 little uplands where were posted Porter's men, there 
 had been stationed a Spartan band of troopers Dick 
 Rush's picturesque Lancers and a handful of regulars. 
 With less than twenty thousand men, all told, to op- 
 pose to Old Jack and his comrades of unknown num- 
 bers, Porter had bidden McClellan adieu the night 
 of the 26th; the latter bent on breaking a way into 
 Richmond, whose vesper bells could be heard ere the 
 sun went down; the former and his hearty fellows 
 singing: 
 
A SUPREME MOMENT. 199 
 
 "With squadrons square, we'll all be there 
 To meet the foe in the morning." 
 
 But the way things looked at sundown on the 26th 
 and the same hour on the 27th had had the effect, 
 coupled with intermediate incidents, of stopping Mc- 
 Clellan's precipitous move on Richmond. Up to June 
 26th the Army of the Potomac, drifted round here to 
 the Peninsula, had steadily advanced. Now, with the 
 sun, it began to slip the other way. Mechanicsville 
 marked the summer solstice of both, and Gaines's 
 Mill, as is called the battle of the 27th, though fought 
 far south, and quite out of sight of that once useful 
 structure, marked the first real red letter day of the 
 ultimately Lost Cause. 
 
 It had its brilliant hours, heaven knows. It had its 
 record of splendid, stubborn fighting. It had its tem- 
 porary triumphs, and it was not without its helping 
 hand, for Slocum and his gallant men had got over in 
 time to take manful part in the fight ; but, all things 
 said and done, what could Porter hope to do against 
 the overwhelming odds hurled upon him by the supe- 
 rior generalship of Lee? While a moderate force held 
 McClellan in check, both A. P. Hill and Longstreet 
 cut loose from his front, and, after driving McCall 
 back from the Beaver, bore down early on the hot 
 June afternoon of the 27th in an assault on Porter's 
 eager line. Then Jackson came in crushing force and 
 engaged the entire corps, while the charging columns, 
 mass on mass, were dashed upon Morell at the ex- 
 
200 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 treme left, and finally burst through. Then it was, 
 just about dusk, that a brilliant, possibly forbidden, 
 yet by no means futile or fruitless effort, was made to 
 cover the withdrawal of the threatened guns a 
 charge of cavalry that was devotion itself. 
 
 It was the supreme moment of the day. The west- 
 ward face of the plateau, deluged by shot and shell from 
 the opposite wood, had become untenable. Morell's 
 long-suffering infantry had begun that slow, sullen, yet 
 utterly uncheckable backward surge that left the bat- 
 teries shorn of their supports. Already in some of these 
 the order had been given "limber to the rear," and such 
 drivers and horses as remained were making frantic 
 effort to haul the hot guns from the clutch of the coming 
 foe. Already in others both limbers and caissons had 
 been run back out of the storm or lay crushed and dis- 
 mantled among the mangled bodies of the horses ; while 
 the half blinded cannoneers, they that still remained 
 upon their feet, some with rammers and hand-spikes, 
 some with pouch and lanyard, came ducking and crouch- 
 ing back in search of shelter. Wounded men could be 
 seen through the dust, feebly crawling for the partial 
 cover to be found between the wheels, for the terrific 
 yelling, beyond the low-hanging cloud of battle smoke 
 along the flats, told that Longstreet's fellows were com- 
 ing in force to claim their prize to complete the rout of 
 the left wing. Rout it is, there is no other word for it, 
 despite all the hard fighting of the day, for every foot 
 of Porter's convex line has been heavily engaged, and 
 he has not a man to send to the support of his recoiling 
 
A SUPREME MOMENT. 201 
 
 left. Charge after charge has been repulsed, but still 
 the human waves come rolling on. At the far right, 
 toward McGee's, even the regulars have been so en- 
 gulfed and surrounded that, with nearly half their 
 officers down and the ammunition of their batteries ex- 
 hausted, they have all they can do to hold their own; 
 and Porter, surrounded by his anxious staff back of 
 the Watts house, peering through the drifting smoke, 
 sees those abandoned guns along the bluff; sees the 
 backward drift of their bleeding supports, and, even 
 among the men of McCall, held for a time in reserve, 
 even among the freshest troops to reach the scene the 
 "bear-a-hand" brigade of Slocum he can find no bat- 
 talions stanch and strong enough to dare the effort to 
 restore that westward line. With him, up to a few 
 moments before, were de Joinville and his gallant 
 nephews, but Frenchmen have seen no sight like this 
 since Waterloo; and, almost in tears, the young count 
 has begged of Porter that he send his uncle from the 
 field. It takes a special plea to do it, for these chivalric 
 visitors, having shared all the blithe days of the cam- 
 paign, are not the men to quit in the moment of disaster. 
 "You have the swiftest horse, M. le Prince," says 
 Porter. "Gallop with all speed to McClellan and say 
 I must be reinforced at once," and Harold Wallis is sent 
 to guide him toward the Woodbury Bridge. 
 
 Five minutes and Wallis is back. The charging 
 masses in gray have snapped the line and crowned the 
 bluffs to the northwest, beyond the Watts house. The 
 reserve batteries down at the left and far to the rear of 
 
202 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 those on the bluff are already hurling shell and shrapnel 
 high across the low ground, bursting at the skirt of 
 the opposite wood. Porter and his staff have retired 
 toward the Adams houses, and a tall, silent, soldierly 
 man in the uniform of a general, is standing in his 
 stirrups and gazing out toward the blazing edge of the 
 opposite timber, across those undefended flats, then 
 turning in saddle and intently studying a little com- 
 mand, just back of the reserve batteries along the south- 
 ward slopes, drawn up in compact, close column of 
 squadrons less than three hundred troopers of the 
 Fifth Regular Cavalry, with their comrades of the First 
 in easy supporting distance. There, out to their right 
 front, are the deserted or imperiled cannon. There, 
 across the low ground, just bursting into view as they 
 break through the timber, are the blood red battle-flags 
 of the triumphant foe, now swooping on their prey. 
 Here sit in saddle the only men with ranks aligned in 
 sight upon the field, the only possible means of checking 
 and holding the enemy long enough to admit of running 
 off the guns these disciplined, yet devil-may-care 
 sabreurs of the famous old frontier regiment, once the 
 pets of Jeff Davis, Lee and Sidney Johnston, yet ever 
 loyal to their country's flag. Wallis sees the whole 
 scheme in the soldierly face of Philip St. George Cooke. 
 "By the gods of a thousand battles," he grinds the 
 words through his strong, white teeth, "the old war 
 horse means to charge !" 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE CHARGE OF THE FIFTH. 
 
 AND charge it is ! Another moment has decided it. 
 Riding swiftly down to the left, the tall, dark 
 eyed Chief of Cavalry reins up in front of the silent 
 band in saddle and hails their grim commander, Whit- 
 ing. It is another of the same name who heads the 
 gray masses that have burst a way through the ranks 
 of Morell. Few words says Cooke, but they tell the 
 tale : "We have got to save those guns if possible. It 
 looks like a whole division coming at 'em. Charge and 
 stop them!" 
 
 When, less than a year later, Pleasonton sends in 
 Keenan with his Pennsylvanians, in column of fours 
 along a narrow road, dashing to certain death in the 
 effort to check the enemy until the Union leader can 
 align his guns, the order is lauded as timely and right, 
 though a charge by fours is something absurd. When 
 von Bredow at Mars la Tour launches his light brigade 
 of horse against overwhelming masses of infantry, 
 simply to check and hold the surging French until the 
 German foot can unite to bar the Chalons road, the 
 soldiery of a watching world acclaim. It is bold, bril- 
 liant, superb, though it cost him half his men. But, 
 
 203 
 
204 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 when in 1862 the foremost Union cavalry leader of his 
 day dares to send in his squadrons in genuine charging 
 form, full front, at the Confederate infantry emerging 
 in triumphant disorder from sheltering woods, hoping 
 thereby to stem and hold them, even at bloody cost, 
 until others can save the then abandoned guns, he is 
 hounded as a dolt, held to blame for disaster he had 
 done his best to avert, and accused of quitting sum- 
 marily the field he was the very last to leave, and all 
 this by the commander 'whom he was most loyally 
 serving. Though he sees his devoted squadrons dart 
 in with flashing blade and ringing cheers, vanishing in 
 the thick cloud of their own dust ; though he hears the 
 terrific crash of their impact as their long line bursts 
 upon the astonished foe; though he knows the advance 
 is checked and stayed that even Longstreet has to 
 halt and stand off these slashing, shouting horsemen 
 yet is he powerless to order the men of Morell to rush 
 to the rescue of the guns. All in a fury of dust and 
 smoke, gallant Chambliss at its head, the Fifth has been 
 swallowed up in front of these black-muzzled boomers, 
 the plain in the rear of the rush dotted with ma/iy a 
 fallen steed and swordsman. But it looks as though the 
 heroic effort that cost the gallant corps full half its 
 number, might indeed be fruitless, when Harold Wallis 
 comes spurring forward, a dozen determined gunners 
 at his charger's heels. Riding thither and yon among 
 the crippled teams and scare-faced drivers, he half 
 storms, half coaxes them, man after man, to turn again 
 in their tracks and sends them, with still unwhipped 
 
THE CHARGE OF THE FIFTH. 205 
 
 subalterns and sergeants, to tackle the guns as best they 
 may and drag them to shelter below the hill. 
 
 The sun is down in the west. The roar and crash of 
 battle go billowing through the wooded slopes. The 
 wounded in streams are hobbling back to the rear. Am- 
 bulances and wagons, limbers and caissons, in crowding, 
 crushing torrent, are struggling through the roadways 
 toward the bridges. The din of the charge has died 
 away and, singly or in little squads, the survivors come 
 drifting in to the batteries, and, finding no officer on 
 whom to rally and reform, bear a hand at the guns 
 wherever help is needed. Only one lieutenant rides 
 back from that wild, magnificent dash unscathed. His 
 brother officers are either killed or crippled; but, for 
 the time at least, their sacrifice is not in vain; for, 
 in amaze, the coming hosts of Longstreet are held in 
 mid career, and but for the semi-panic that reigns 
 among Porter's bewildered batterymen, more many 
 more of the guns might have been dragged to safety. 
 But now, once again and this time for good and all, 
 the red battle-flags of Longstreet's yelling lines are wav- 
 ing onward through the drifting smoke, and popping 
 up here, there and everywhere along the bluffs north of 
 Boatswain's Swamp, and now in turn the reserve bat- 
 teries are catching the heavy, plunging rifle fire that 
 beats down the men at the guns and sends the terrified 
 horses screaming and kicking to earth, or scurrying 
 away for shelter. And still Wallis labors on, a word 
 here, a hand there, calm, placid, undismayed, yet at 
 times blazing with sudden and unnatural enthusiasm as 
 
206 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 he notes and praises some gallant deed. Soldierly met. 
 there are among the infantry leaders, supervising and 
 steadying the slow withdrawal of their lines, who have 
 abundant cause to mark his daring and devoted work 
 and commend it then and thereafter soldierly men like 
 Meade, Griffin and John F. Reynolds men who know 
 him well by repute, and are hardly prepared for the 
 cool heroism, coupled at times with fiery energy, that 
 enables him even in the midst of the ever increasing 
 force of the plunging fire, to hold his fellows at their 
 work, and to bring off, one after another, half a dozen 
 guns almost from the teeth of the foe. 
 
 "Bravo, Wallis, old boy!" "Well done, Wallis!" 
 come the encomiums from bearded lips, as more than 
 one general hails him on the field. "Bravo, Wallis!" 
 cries a wounded officer, borne by on a stretcher, "What 
 wouldn't the Spoons have given to have you at their 
 head this day !" Spoons, indeed ! He has hardly had 
 time to give them a thought. Yet, only a few hours 
 before the attack began, they had come swinging up the 
 road from White House, honest Michael in saddle in 
 the lead ; had reported to Sykes at the far right flank, and 
 taken their station in line of battle within supporting 
 distance of the guns of Weed. Not since the days of 
 Greble Barracks had they met and, in the meantime, 
 what tales have not been told both good and ill. And 
 now, just as darkness is settling down, with the dust 
 cloud of the charge, upon this field of death and dismay, 
 and in long, blue columns, the infantry, covered by the 
 deploying lines of fresh brigades, sent from the south- 
 
THE CHARGE OF THE FIFTH. 207 
 
 r ern shore, are twisting away toward the swirling Chick- 
 ahominy, leaving the crest with a score of abandoned 
 guns to the yelling and triumphant foe, a rifle ball tears 
 through the shoulder of his frantic horse, and Harold 
 Wallis, debonair and dashing rider that he is, taken 
 suddenly unawares is hurled by furious plungings from 
 his saddle under the very wheels of an ambulance, deep 
 laden with wounded, and one heavy tire tears partially 
 away the major's "rectangle" of the right shoulder ere 
 it grinds the shapely neck into the thick dust of the 
 roadway. "Good night to Marmion !" 
 
 And all this while, holding a long, thin, shadowy, 
 sham of a line, north and south in front of the masked 
 brigades of the Army of the Potomac, one sorely tried, 
 hopeful and, for this day anyhow, prayerful soldier 
 guards the approaches to Richmond, marveling that Mc- 
 Clellan does not seem to realize that now, now is the 
 chance of a lifetime; that now, with Hill and Long- 
 street detached to aid Jackson in the plan to crush and 
 ruin Porter, there is barely force enough left between 
 the Confederate capital and the threatening advance to 
 withstand the onslaught of a strong division, and strong 
 divisions stand idle all the day long, after the unique 
 McClellan manner. "Baldy" Smith, Richardson and 
 Sedgwick, Kearny and Hooker, Couch and Peck, all 
 under such corps leaders as Franklin, Sumner, Heintzel- 
 man and Keyes, all listening and waiting throughout 
 the livelong day, all doing absolutely nothing, while Lee 
 has dared to strip his lines to effectively ruin the Union 
 right, leaving our old friend, and Harold's, Prince John 
 
208 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Magruder, to the sleepless task of watching McClellan 
 and most effectively has he done it. Most scientifically 
 has he kept his battalions twinkling from pillar to post, 
 with much show of bold challenge, from dawn till dusk, 
 "bluffing" McClellan into the belief that he has thou- 
 sands at his beck, where he hasn't a baker's dozen. It 
 isn't the first game of brag the veteran entertainer has 
 played, but he never played it better in all his checkered 
 life. With Richmond within easy reach beyond that 
 flimsy veil, McClellan dare not stretch forth a hand to 
 pluck the rich fruit of all this loyal labor. He does not 
 know the game of which Magruder is past master. 
 
 Something like a fortnight later, in company with a 
 number of maimed and wounded officers, Harold Wallis 
 found himself disembarked at Washington. His physi- 
 cal hurts were practically healed. He bore with him in 
 writing the glowing thanks and commendations of the 
 commanding general, and letters of similar tenor from 
 others high in authority who had won distinction even 
 in that ill-starred campaign. He had left his general 
 on the James, the Army entrenched in safety at Harri- 
 son's Landing, and with a two weeks' leave for the 
 benefit of his health, and a packet of valuable and im- 
 portant letters which he desired to take to New York, 
 and the urgent invitation of the governor of a grand old 
 commonwealth to accept the command of a new regi- 
 ment of cavalry then being raised, the major sought at 
 Willard's certain senatorial friends of the halcyon days 
 of the Silver Spoons, hoping through their influence to 
 overcome the old obstacles at the War Department, and, 
 
THE CHARGE OF THE FIFTH. 209 
 
 through the prestige of his brilliant, soldierly conduct 
 at Williamsburg and Gaines's Mill, wring even from the 
 reluctant Secretary the desired authority to enable him 
 to accept the proffered colonelcy of volunteers. He was 
 in high hope and spirits. He breakfasted with a senator 
 of the Empire State, showing him his glowing recom- 
 mendations and giving him such vivid description of 
 the campaign that the senator sent for certain cronies 
 to come and hear ; and, at ten o'clock of this warm July 
 morning, Wallis found himself the center of a circle of 
 absorbed listeners in a parlor room on the second floor, 
 a circle made up of men of mark and distinction four 
 of them senators prominent in the affairs of the nation. 
 Small wonder was it, therefore, that he gave little 
 thought to the possibility of a fuming Secretary over 
 at the "Shop" on Seventeenth Street until somewhere 
 after eleven, when the door opened, and, instead of the 
 frequently-summoned bell boy, a man's face, a white 
 face, bearded, looked calmly in and round and vanished 
 without a word of explanation. 
 
 "That's what I call cool," said Senator Number One. 
 
 "That's what I call impudent," said Senator Number 
 Two. 
 
 "That's that fellow Carmichael, of the Secret Ser- 
 vice," said Senator Number Three. "Now, what the 
 devil is he speiring about here for?" 
 
 They found out less than an hour later, when, very 
 confidently and jovially, the committee rose and re- 
 ported itself ready to go over and see Stanton and have 
 the major's matter fixed. No one of their number 
 
210 .A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 doubted his individual ability to "fix" it on sight, but 
 then it was better to have a party. Then, despite the 
 hour and the heat of the day, somebody suggested just 
 one round of champagne to drink the health and wish 
 long life and speedy promotion of Colonel Harold 
 Wallis of the th Massachusetts Volunteer Cavalry, 
 the pride of the commonwealth, and glasses were 
 actually raised on high when there came a sharp, im- 
 perative knock at the door and the entrance of an officer 
 in complete uniform; belt, sash, sword and gauntlets 
 added to the frock of a field officer of the staff. 
 
 "Your pardon, gentlemen," he briefly spoke, "but my 
 orders are imperative. Major Wallis, I am directed to 
 place you in close arrest on charges of disloyal and trea- 
 sonable conduct. By order of the Secretary of War." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TRASH OR TREASON? 
 
 AUGUST, 1862, was a month of many worries for 
 the War Department. The campaign on the 
 Peninsula had proved a woeful failure, and the idol of 
 the Army of the Potomac was in a wordy wrangle with 
 the Iron Secretary. Lee's heroic divisions, however, 
 had been fearfully repulsed before the belching guns at 
 Malvern Hill, and again such fighters as Phil Kearny 
 had declared the road to Richmond practically open if 
 only Little Mac could be made to see it and to say the 
 word "go in." But that was hopeless. McClellan 
 seemed to have no stomach left for righting, save with 
 Stanton. So, while his still loyal and valiant men re- 
 stored their lines and set their sights for battle, the 
 commander spent the precious hours writing pages of 
 complaint and recrimination to Washington, and Stone- 
 wall Jackson, taking prompt advantage of the paralysis 
 on the Peninsula, cut loose again to try conclusions with 
 the new general come out from the West to command 
 the hurriedly organized army in front of the national 
 capital ; pounced upon its foremost corps at Cedar 
 Mountain, and then followed up his blow by a series of 
 mad manoeuvres that would have startled even Charles 
 of Sweden; that scared the cabinet out of its seven 
 
212 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 senses (they had no more at the time the Department 
 of Agriculture being a recent invention), and so be- 
 deviled the headquarters in saddle that even memory 
 could no longer keep her seat, and, in the distracted 
 globe of the commander, fact and fiction became inex- 
 tricably mixed. 
 
 And through all this month of military mishap, 
 Harold Wallis was held in Washington, vainly begging 
 for a hearing. General court-martial had indeed been 
 ordered to try the case and the order had gone as far 
 as the words, "Detail for the Court," and the Honorable 
 Secretary had been in consultation with the Adjutant 
 General over the choice of officers. But regular officers 
 of sufficient rank, not generals of volunteers, were get- 
 ting scarce about Washington, save those recuperating 
 from wounds, and it was far too soon, said the surgeons, 
 for all but a limited few of these to attempt to sit for 
 hours in the August heat and the tight buttoned coat 
 then demanded by regulations, whether the luckless 
 wearer was serving on the shores of Pass a 1'Outre or 
 Passamaquoddy. Regulars could not try volunteers, 
 but Stanton saw no reason why volunteers should not 
 try regulars, and was for ordering a court of strongly 
 loyal soldier lawyers, of whom there was ever an abun- 
 dance at Willard's and the National. But certain sen- 
 ators had taken up the cudgels for Wallis, all men 
 of mark and influence. A very distinguished jurist 
 from the neighboring city of Baltimore had been re- 
 tained as counsel, and the Judge Advocate General of 
 the Army himself saw fit to say to the great Secretary 
 
TRASH OR TREASON? 213 
 
 that even in the case of a man who was known to have 
 been in correspondence with rebels in arms, in con- 
 ference with Confederate officers between the lines, who 
 had a brother in the Confederate service, and kindred 
 in several of these States in rebellion, a man who was 
 known to have derided the administration and damned 
 the Star Spangled Banner, it was best to be sure of 
 every inch of the ground. All this might be explained ; 
 and there was, on the other hand, one thing that could 
 not be how a man, at heart disloyal to the flag, could 
 fight so superbly for it as had Harold Wallis at 
 Williamsburg and Gaines's Mill. 
 
 In the midst of it all and just before the forty days 
 had expired beyond which, except in defiance of law, an 
 officer could not be held in arrest without being served 
 with a copy of the charges laid at his door, there was 
 brought back to Washington, shot through the leg and 
 still on crutches, Colonel Bernard Hoyt, of the New 
 York Cavalry. He took a room at Willard's, and in 
 less than forty-eight hours thereafter, though the hotel 
 was crowded, there came from Gotham Mrs. Ruther- 
 ford, daughter and maid, and Mrs. Rutherford de- 
 manded accommodations at any price. The physician 
 called to see her the evening of her arrival the same 
 who had attended her occasionally during her previous 
 visit was startled to see that during these few months 
 her strange and mysterious malady had made grave 
 inroads on her strength. Without a symptom that 
 pointed to organic trouble or even to a seriously weak- 
 ened heart, Mrs. Rutherford was manifestly in wretched 
 
2i 4 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 health and spirits. She begged that Colonel Hoyt 
 would come to her at once, the evening of her arrival ; 
 sent Hortense out for a walk, a ride, anything to get 
 her out of the way for half an hour ; bade her anxious 
 daughter to withdraw on the colonel's coming, that she 
 might see him alone, and Hoyt, who hobbled from his 
 room, buoyed up by the hope of a look into the face, he 
 loved and a few words from Ethel's lips, saw her vanish, 
 pale and shadowy, into an adjoining room, as Mrs. 
 Rutherford, with difficulty, rose from the sofa to receive 
 him. Ten minutes later the bell rang violently, and 
 the answering boy found both the colonel and Miss 
 Rutherford bending over a limp and unconscious form 
 Mrs. Rutherford had fainted away. The doctor was 
 needed at once. 
 
 Two days later, when again able to sit up, Mrs. Ruth- 
 erford had told her daughter that come what might, 
 she must that day see Major Harold Wallis. On that 
 same morning, despite his crippled condition, Colonel 
 Hoyt had been driven to the War Department, whither 
 he went to beg the Adjutant General that Lieutenant 
 Gerald Rutherford, adjutant of the th New York 
 Cavalry, be summoned forthwith from the front be- 
 cause of his mother's serious illness. Ethel, bursting 
 into tears as she greeted her wounded knight, far more 
 concerned over her distress than his own suffering, had 
 lifted up her streaming eyes to gaze one moment im- 
 ploringly into his handsome,, almost speaking, face, then 
 veiled them at sight of the unutterable love and passion 
 and pleading that glowed in every line. She could only 
 
TRASH OR TREASON? 215 
 
 falter her prayer that he, their best, their only real 
 friend, should bring her brother to them, even though 
 the regiment were facing Stuart along the Rappahan- 
 nock, and Hoyt had gone to do his best. Heavens! 
 How he longed to clasp her in his strong arms, to kiss 
 away her tears, to pour out the story of his deep, de- 
 voted, passionate love, to woo and win her ere again 
 he rode at the head of his men ! But, just as before, the 
 dread overcame him that it was taking mean advantage 
 of her helplessness, her bitter anxiety and distress, and 
 so, soldierlike, manlike in his stubborn pride and sense 
 of honor, he robbed her of what, had he but dared to 
 dream it, would have been the sweetest strength and 
 comfort she could have found. He had gone from her 
 without a word, his hands, his lips still quivering, 
 trembling, twitching in the tempest of their longing 
 to lavish their caresses on her. He was tremulous still 
 when he stood before the desk of the Adjutant General 
 and made his plea. "You will have to see the Secre- 
 tary," was the non-committal and discouraging answer, 
 and after hours of waiting at last they let him in. 
 
 Stanton was pacing the floor, lacking only a lashing 
 tail to complete the semblance to the caged lion there 
 was no lack of lashing tongue. Three officers were in 
 the room at the moment of Hoyt's entrance, and each 
 one looked as though he would far rather be out. Be- 
 fore the newcomer could balance on his crutches and 
 raise a hand to salute the civilian head of the nation's 
 soldiery, Stanton whirled on him : 
 
 '"Now, here's another, I suppose! You are the man 
 
216 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 who preferred charges against Captain Harold Wallis 
 months ago for conduct unbecoming an officer and a 
 gentleman. You accused him of robbing a woman's 
 desk. Here are the men in whom I relied to prove 
 him a rebel and a traitor. This man swore he heard 
 him say 'damn the Star Spangled Banner/ and now 
 he crawfishes and says he only meant the tune, not 
 
 the flag. This man " and here the irate lawyer 
 
 whirled, as though he had him on the stand, on the 
 second officer, and, such was his towering rage, well 
 nigh shook his fist in his face "this man declared 
 he saw him twice in front of our lines at Lee's Mills, 
 talking with rebels at night, and now he says the 
 rebels might have been one of our own patrols. This 
 man," and with threatening forefinger and lowering 
 front, like a charging bull, Stanton turned on the 
 third soldier, a trusted staff officer of the cavalry 
 commander on the Peninsula, a man well known to 
 Hoyt by reputation, the very one who had warned 
 Harold Wallis while they lay in front of the Warwick, 
 "this man," said Stanton, "who knew him at West 
 Point and out on the plains, and again on the Penin- 
 sula who knows his Southern proclivities, and has 
 heard his sneers at McClellan's headquarters time and 
 again, dares to come here and say that in spite of his 
 sneers, in spite of his infamous traffic with rebels at 
 the front and rebel sneaks at the rear, in spite of these 
 letters picked up at Magruder's abandoned headquar- 
 ters," and here the Secretary hammered on a little 
 batch of papers on his broad desk, "in spite of the let- 
 
TRASH OR TREASON? 217 
 
 ters found on a rebel prisoner that that weakling, 
 Couch, should have sent to me not to McClellan, 
 whom a child could hoodwink, for now we've lost 
 them this brother graduate of your Southern- 
 steered Military Academy has the face to come here 
 and say Harold Wallis is a loyal man because, because, 
 forsooth, he's a brave one !" 
 
 "Your pardon, Mr. Secretary," interposed the third 
 officer, his face pale with mingled wrath and the strain 
 of enforced subordination, "I came here because or- 
 dered, not because I wished. I spoke because you 
 demanded, not because I desired. You showed me 
 the Magruder letters and required my opinion, and 
 I gave it. He had no business writing to Magruder, 
 but what he wrote was trash, not treason," and now 
 it was evident that one, at least, of Stanton's three 
 victims could hit back, and meant to do it. Stanton 
 stopped short; faced him, and simply glared for a mo- 
 ment as though amazed at such hardihood. 
 
 "You're a lawyer, sir," went on the West Pointer, 
 rising to his full height of six feet, and speaking with 
 flashing eyes and ringing emphasis. "What can you 
 possibly find in these two notes that deserves serious 
 consideration? 'Dear Bankhead. Make it a dozen. 
 Dry Sillery or else Clicquot. Damn Green Seal.' 
 'Dear Bankhead. Two bullets and a bragger, nothing 
 else.' " 
 
 "What may they not mean?" burst in Stanton, his 
 hands clinching, the veins in his forehead swelling 
 almost to bursting. "The second is full of significance. 
 
218 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 I credit Major Wallis with brains enough not to write 
 words that would hang him when he can convey his 
 meaning in cipher or symbols. You are trifling with 
 the subject, sir." 
 
 "So far as these letters are concerned," responded 
 the soldier, gaining in calm as the Secretary lost in 
 temper, "the subject trifles with itself. That second 
 missive is merely the language of an old-time game 
 that is fast giving place to draAV poker. That letter 
 has only one parallel in fiction or history that / ever 
 read." 
 
 "What was that?" demanded Stanton, with chal- 
 lenge in his blazing spectacles. 
 
 "Bardell vs. Pickwick, Mr. Secretary. 'Dear Mrs. 
 Bardell. Chops and Tomato Sauce' " 
 
 "Captain Reins!" thundered Stanton. "Leave the 
 room!" 
 
 "Mr. Secretary," was the reply, "I obey with pleas- 
 ure," and Wallis himself could hardly have answered 
 with greater suavity. Indeed, the captain well nigh 
 winked at Hoyt, poised in constraint and embarrass- 
 ment on his crutches, as he calmly strode away. 
 There was no responsive light, however, in the blue 
 eyes of the cavalryman. To Bernard Hoyt the story 
 of all Wallis's misdoings on the Peninsula was but 
 the logical sequence of the reports he himself had 
 lodged against him. Hoyt believed long years before 
 that Wallis lacked principle, and proved it, as he 
 claimed, at the Planters' months before the war. 
 Hoyt believed in '6-1 that by foul means Wallis had 
 
TRASH OR TREASON? 219 
 
 \ 
 
 possessed himself of papers Mrs. Rutherford held 
 sacred, and thought a court-martial would establish 
 it. Hoyt believed that Wallis had not only taken the 
 letters lost from Ethel's silken bag, but the others 
 ravished from her mother's desk, and though he could 
 not imagine their purport, he well knew that they con- 
 cerned or were written by his old friend Ralph the 
 buried son and brother. Indeed, in addition to Ethel's 
 admission to him, the venerable rector of Grace had 
 told the Leroys and others of his parishioners that he 
 had an appointment to meet Mrs. Rutherford in the 
 vestryroom immediately after service the oppressive 
 April morning she was taken ill. She had some letters 
 of Ralph's, she said, to show him. These, doubtless, 
 had been confided to Ethel's care, and though the bag 
 had been restored to its fair owner, the letters had 
 disappeared. Hoyt well remembered the mother's 
 dreadful agitation at the discovery that the desk had 
 been rifled. He was marveling now over her collapse 
 the previous night. He had been with her but a few 
 moments after Ethel flitted from the room, when Mrs. 
 Rutherford turned upon him, with eyes full of anguish, 
 and in a voice that trembled in spite of her utmost 
 effort, said: "You have been my Gerald's best and 
 most faithful friend; you were the beloved and de- 
 voted friend of my murdered boy; you have grown to 
 be as near to me and to to mine as you were to him 
 to Ralph as you are to Gerald, and, oh, Colonel 
 Hoyt, I need a friend I sorely need a friend. There 
 are things I cannot tell you yet. There is something 
 
220 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 / 
 
 I must ask you. They say Major Wallis is to be tried 
 on several charges, but he declares they are friv- 
 olous. Major Seabrook writes me they cannot be 
 sustained. General McClellan and General Porter 
 are his stanch supporters, and Mr. Webb, who was at 
 the Island, told my lawyers they wrote to him at 
 my request that these charges would not be suf- 
 ficient to seriously harm him. All they could do 
 would be to censure him for indiscretion. The trouble 
 is this: They say the Secretary is so determined to 
 punish him that he has revived that old story about 
 about certain letters of ours, even though Mr. Cam- 
 eron, his predecessor, examined thoroughly into the 
 matter and ordered Major Wallis released. They say 
 no great harm can come to him, unless unless you 
 testify, and Mr. Mr. Barclay. Mr. Barclay is a 
 prisoner in Libby. You are the only one. Colonel 
 Colonel Hoyt, if I should tell you that Major Wallis 
 had really striven to defend my poor boy, had really 
 tried to serve him, had really tried to be my friend, 
 you wouldn't you could not seek to injure him?" 
 
 "Mrs. Rutherford," answered Hoyt, gravely, sadly, 
 "I believe you cannot realize how dishonorable a man 
 I consider Major Wallis. If I am summoned to speak 
 before the court I must tell the whole truth, and you 
 too, and it will ruin him as it should do." 
 
 It was then that Mrs. Rutherford fell back fainting, 
 and that Ethel presently came running in. Hoyt was 
 thinking of it all as the unterrified dragoon left the 
 Secretary's office, and not until that dignified gentle- 
 
TRASH OR TREASON? 221 
 
 man had gone some minutes did the Secretary cool 
 down sufficiently to go on with the business before 
 him. Then, the first man to be questioned was the 
 blue-eyed colonel, still balancing on his crutches. 
 
 "Have you, too, come to say you wish to retract 
 what you reported, and beg this man's pardon?" de- 
 manded he, glowering like a mountain lion, as he 
 studied the silent officer before him. 
 
 "I came for a totally different purpose, Mr. Secre- 
 tary," answered Hoyt, respectfully, though he, too, 
 chafed at the tone and manner. "I came to beg that 
 my adjutant might be ordered to report to me here 
 for just forty-eight hours. He is with the regiment 
 somewhere along the upper Rappahannock. His 
 mother is here dangerously ill and craving to see him. 
 He is now her only son. His elder brother was killed 
 in a duel with Hugh Preston, of Savannah, barely two 
 years ago a forced quarrel, as Captain Seabrook, of 
 the Artillery, bears witness, and the Oglethorpe Club 
 decided " 
 
 "Did you know Preston? Would you know him 
 were you to see him again?" suddenly interrupted the 
 Secretary. 
 
 "I never knew him, sir. I was in the Far West 
 when it happened, but Ralph Rutherford had been^my 
 most intimate friend " 
 
 Stanton held up a hand as though to say "That's 
 enough," and Hoyt ceased. For a moment more no 
 word was spoken as the Secretary still wrathfully 
 strode up and" down the room. Then at last he 
 
222 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 stopped; stared again at Hoyt and his crutches, and 
 seemed suddenly to wake to the situation. "Take a 
 chair! take a chair, Colonel!" he cried. "Be seated, 
 gentlemen. I quite forgot." Silently the three obeyed, 
 Hoyt alone desirous of remaining. Thrice Stanton 
 walked the length of the little room, his massive head 
 bowed, his brows knitting, his bearded chin almost bur- 
 rowing into his breast. Then abruptly he stopped in 
 front of the crutches. 
 
 "Colonel Hoyt, I am refusing leaves of every kind; 
 forbidding officers to come to Washington unless or- 
 dered here for urgent reasons, but I am going to send 
 for your adjutant forthwith. Yet I wish you to do 
 something for me. I wish to feel that one officer, at 
 least, means what he says, and has got the backbone 
 to stand by what he says. You accused Major Harold 
 Wallis of conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentle- 
 man. You declared in writing your reasons for believ- 
 ing him to be in possession of stolen letters, practically, 
 in fact, to have stolen them. Other men," and here 
 he glared at the two unfortunates on the settee, 
 "weaken like women when it comes to the test. Do 
 you still adhere to what you said? Will you so testify 
 before the general court?" 
 
 "I do, sir and I will." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION. 
 
 THE last week of August had come. A general 
 court martial had assembled in the city of 
 Washington for the trial of Major Harold Wallis, 
 teenth U. S. Infantry, and such other prisoners as 
 might properly be brought before it, which limited 
 the culprits to regulars, for none but regulars were 
 of the detail. A venerable graybeard, of forty years 
 of service, sat at their head as president ; a keen Penn- 
 sylvania lawyer, well known to the Secretary, who 
 had cut the bar for a commission in the army, figured 
 as judge advocate. It was by no means his first 
 appearance in that capacity. He had gained repute 
 as a prosecutor on previous trials. Stanton himself 
 had picked him for the case, and fully was he imbued 
 with the importance of the occasion. A crowd of 
 witnesses had been called to the capital, nor had they 
 far to travel, for many were in the lines along the 
 Potomac, and McClellan, with the bulk of his army, 
 was disembarking at Alexandria. Sorely against his 
 will, Major Holman was there, for the gallant Green 
 Mountain boys were eager to get a chance at Stone- 
 wall Jackson, and that renowned leader, with his 
 famous Foot Cavalry, was rumored to have circled 
 
 223 
 
224 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Pope's right wing and swooped down on his rear. 
 Stories on the twenty-seventh were flying from lip to 
 lip that the rebel host had crossed the upper Rappa- 
 hannock; tramped night and day northward to the 
 Manassas railway; turned eastward and, pouring 
 through Thoroughfare Gap, were now twixt Pope 
 and McClellan, twixt Warrenton and Washington. 
 What did that portend? 
 
 But inexorably the court held to its work. One 
 after another a number of witnesses had appeared for 
 the prosecution, testifying as to the specifications 
 supporting the charge of disloyalty and treason. Of- 
 ficers and men bore witness to the frequent goings 
 and comings of the accused through the picket lines 
 on the Peninsula, to his being seen in conference with 
 an officer in Confederate uniform near the Warwick, 
 to the finding of cards and notes among the debris 
 of the Magruder camp, to the night episode that led 
 to Barclay's capture, to the language used at the 
 Mullins breakfast when the band struck up the na- 
 tional air. Several officers, too, had told of disdain- 
 ful references to the household of the White House, 
 if not to the head of the nation. Several more, unchal- 
 lenged, spoke of contemptuous or disrespectful things 
 said of the august Secretary of War. It was not until 
 the morning of the twenty-eighth that Holman, chaf- 
 ing with impatience to get away, was summoned to 
 the stand, a sort of triumphant clincher of the case 
 for the prosecution. And still placidly, courteously, 
 imperturbably, both the accused and his distinguished 
 
FOR THE PROSECUTION. 225 
 
 counsel listened; took notes; held smiling, whispered 
 conferences and their tongues. To the utter and 
 unconcealed surprise to the manifest perplexity of 
 the Judge Advocate they declined his invitation, save 
 in very moderate degree, to cross-question or to inter- 
 pose. The soldier lawyer had looked for all manner 
 of legal and forensic battling. The Secretary had ex- 
 pected and said as much. It was prophesied that Wal- 
 lis would object to no less than four members of the 
 court on the ground of bias and prejudice, if not mal- 
 ice, for they were men well known to be inimical to 
 him. He had objected to no one. On the contrary, 
 he had most gracefully availed himself of the oppor- 
 tunity to object by saying that he unhesitatingly 
 placed his honor in the keeping of this tribunal of 
 his brother officers, without doubt or fear as to the 
 result. The Judge Advocate looked for vehement 
 cross-examination of his witnesses, for protest 
 against their testimony, and nothing of the kind 
 occurred. The accused and his Baltimore counsel 
 listened to their most damaging statements with an 
 expression of interest and tolerance that puzzled the 
 prosecution beyond words. They had all the appear- 
 ance of saying they would not interrupt for the world, 
 and all the courtroom wondered. It was not until 
 Major Holman begged to know if he might not has- 
 ten after his regiment, now somewhere out about 
 Centerville, that a hint was given as to what might 
 be coming. The Honorable Beverly Hanson re- 
 gretted the necessity, but, as counsel for the accused, 
 
226 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 he should be compelled to call Major Holman and 
 probably several of the others for the defense. Hol- 
 man had declared he heard through the darkness the 
 voice of Major Wallis saying "How can you be such 
 a brute, Eugene?" and Eugene, presumably, was the 
 name of the unseen Southerner who had managed to 
 escape. That, as was well known to many of the 
 court, was the name of Wallis's younger brother. 
 
 At one o'clock there was a recess for luncheon. At 
 two they were to reassemble and to sit without regard 
 to hours instead of adjourning at three P. M., as was 
 the method of the Mutiny Act from which we sons of 
 old England took our system of court-martial. At 
 two the Judge Advocate purposed opening the case 
 on the second and glaring charge of conduct unbe- 
 coming an officer and a gentleman, Colonel Bernard 
 Hoyt, th New York Cavalry being summoned to 
 the stand. But at half past two, the court having 
 reopened, the room being packed with almost breath- 
 less spectators, the Judge Advocate was nervously 
 darting in and out, orderlies \vere clattering through 
 the resounding corridors, and a message had gone 
 post haste to Willard's, for Colonel Bernard Hoyt 
 had not appeared. It was nearly 2.40 when a 
 carriage landed him on the red brick pavement with- 
 out, and a brace of troopers aided him, pale and weak 
 a sore-stricken man as all could see up the stairs 
 and to a seat in the court room. 
 
 The President of the court, noting the sudden 
 silence that had succeeded the buzz of low-toned talk 
 
FOR THE PROSECUTION. 227 
 
 about the crowded room, looked up from the batch 
 of papers he had been intently studying, pointing out 
 from time to time to the crony on his right certain 
 words or paragraphs that arrested his attention. The 
 delay had nettled him, for matters at the front seemed 
 oddly mixed and he was eager to adjourn and hurry 
 over to the War Department for later tidings. The 
 Judge Advocate, his keen face veiled in deep concern 
 at sight of Hoyt, hurried over to greet and aid him; 
 but before he could exchange a dozen words the 
 President was speaking. There was reprimand on 
 the tip of his tongue, too, for the veteran was a stick- 
 ler for discipline, and court had been kept fully forty 
 minutes; but one glimpse of Hoyt's pallid face 
 checked the demand for explanation. 
 
 "We can proceed to business, Mr. Judge Advocate, 
 I presume/' said he, "if if your witness is ready at 
 last. The court will come to order." 
 
 So, without opportunity to inquire as to what was 
 amiss, the conductor of the proceedings had to hasten 
 to his seat at the foot of the long, paper-littered table, 
 and begin. Up to this time the accused officer and his 
 counsel had occupied chairs at a little table at the 
 left hand of the Judge Advocate, perhaps eight feet 
 away, and each witness in turn, after being sworn, 
 had taken a chair placed to the right of the Judge 
 Advocate and a little in front of him an odd arrange- 
 ment and one peculiar to military procedure of the 
 day, since the junior members of the court, which 
 corresponds to the jury in civil cases, sitting in their 
 
228 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 order of rank at the left hand of the President, could 
 only see the witness by turning their chairs about, 
 thus bringing their backs to the table. Major Flint, 
 the Judge Advocate, more than once, in the early 
 stages of the trial, had referred caustically to the in- 
 convenience of such arrangement. General Buck- 
 ram, the President, had never seen it done any other 
 way, and, with the conservatism of the old soldier, 
 would brook no innovation. Now, as Colonel Hoyt 
 slowly hobbled on his crutches to the indicated spot 
 and stood facing the Judge Advocate, a deep silence 
 fell on the assembled throng. The words of the sol- 
 emn oath, without solemnity, were rattled off by the 
 Judge Advocate, his right hand uplifted, his left thrust 
 deep into his trousers' pocket, and were responded to 
 with bowed head, in deep tremulous tones. "I do 
 so help me God!" Then, as Colonel Hoyt sank heav- 
 ily into the plain wooden chair, two of the juniors on 
 his side of the table turned their seats and gravely 
 faced him. Few on the court were his seniors in rank 
 in the combined services, regular and volunteer. All 
 were his seniors in years of service in the regular 
 army, and all knew him by reputation favorably and 
 well. All noted with anxiety the symptoms of seri- 
 ous distress, either of body or of mind, perhaps both; 
 but "the law's delay" could not extend to a possibly 
 unwilling witness. The court to a man had heard of, 
 and two had seen, Wallis's attempted assault at Wil- 
 lard's, and wondered, some of them, why that, too, 
 had not been crystallized in a specification to the seq- 
 
FOR THE PROSECUTION. 229 
 
 ond charge. Among the spectators crowding at the 
 doorway stood a young assistant surgeon who had 
 accompanied Hoyt from Willard's. Now he was nar- 
 rowly watching his patient and suddenly stepped 
 forward; spoke ten words in low tones to the Judge 
 Advocate, who started and said, "Certainly," whereat 
 the doctor straightened up and signalled to a soldier 
 in the throng at the door, and presently this soldier 
 came hurrying in with a brimming glass of water. 
 Hoyt swallowed it eagerly and to the last drop. Spec- 
 tators on both sides began edging down so as to be 
 nearer the witness stand, and then it was noted that 
 Major Wallis and his counsel, who had been content 
 to remain at quite a distance from previous witnesses, 
 now lifted their littered table and brought it close 
 to the Judge Advocate's desk. The light entered 
 the long room from two high windows back of the 
 President's seat, and from three along the eastward 
 side. Hoyt sat facing this side light, and, as though 
 it hurt him, wearily lifted his hand and passed it over 
 his haggard eyes. Then a newcomer, with an air of 
 authority about him, forced his way through the 
 wedge-shaped mass at the door, and stood revealed 
 in the trim-fitting uniform of a captain of cavalry. 
 It was Reins, he who had dared to remind the Hon- 
 orable Secretary of the immortal case of Bardell vs. 
 Pickwick. At sight of him there was for an instant 
 a gleam in Hoyt's blue eyes, but not for long. Reins 
 carried in his hand a cane campstool, opened it, and 
 with utter placidity seated himself in the front row 
 
2 3 o A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 of spectators, not more than five feet from the wit- 
 ness. The Judge Advocate looked at him in dis- 
 approbation; moved his lips as though to speak; 
 thought better of it, and turned with pencil poised, 
 on the pallid officer now seeking to bestow his 
 crutches where they would be out of his way. Coolly 
 Reins arose; stretched forth his hands; took the 
 crutches, bent and murmured a few words in the col- 
 onel's ear, whereat the President rapped sharply, and 
 the Judge Advocate started from his seat. 
 
 "Spectators must not presume to speak to witnesses 
 in this court, sir," boomed the general, from the head 
 of the table. 
 
 "I beg the pardon of the court," most penitently 
 and respectfully replied the culprit. "I should not 
 have presumed to do so had I thought it possible to 
 speak to him elsewhere. I have ventured to inform 
 Colonel Hoyt that I had just returned from Warren- 
 ton Junction, that I saw his regiment yesterday morn- 
 ing, and that they sent their love to him." 
 
 "Are you summoned as a witness in this case?" de- 
 manded the President, his choler rising with the titter 
 faintly heard about the room. 
 
 "I am not, sir. I bore despatches from General 
 Porter to General McClellan, and was bidden to take 
 them on to the War Department. At five I return 
 to Alexandria." And the very soldierly-looking vis- 
 itor seemed deriving unsoldierly amusement from the 
 situation. The President growled some inarticulate 
 words; then wound up abruptly. "Proceed, Mr, 
 
FOR THE PROSECUTION. 23^. 
 
 Judge Advocate, and let there be no more unseemly 
 interruptions." 
 
 Then silence and attention were resumed as the 
 Judge Advocate began the stereotyped questions as 
 to the name and rank of the witness and his knowl- 
 edge of the accused. At the second query Hoyt 
 turned his pale face, and the blue eyes gazed squarely, 
 yet strangely, at the distinguished looking prisoner 
 before the court then at his gray-haired counsel. 
 
 "I have known him, I think, since the summer of 
 
 1859." 
 
 "You were then stationed where?" 
 
 "We were serving with the so-called Utah Expedi- 
 tion," was the answer. 
 
 "Where were you last associated with the ac- 
 cused?" asked the Judge Advocate, in calm, profes- 
 sional tone. 
 
 "In New York City, during the spring of 1861, and 
 I met him here for a moment on one occasion, 
 afterwards." Hoyt hesitated even faltered as he 
 gave his answer. Resting his handsome, dark head 
 on his hand, Wallis sat immovable, his eyes fixed on 
 the speakers, glancing alternately from the examiner 
 to the examined. The Judge Advocate penciled his 
 next question with more than usual care, making cer- 
 tain erasures and substitutions, ere he raised his head 
 and read aloud. 
 
 "Had you occasion last year to make report or rep- 
 resentation to the War Department reflecting on the 
 character of the accused? If so " 
 
232 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "One moment, Major," interposed Mr. Hanson, 
 eagerly, yet suavely, his gray head courteously in- 
 clined, his soft, right hand uplifted in mild protest. 
 
 "We object to the form " But almost in the same 
 
 instant Wallis was on his feet. 
 
 "No ah, Mr. Judge Advocate, and by your leave, 
 ah, Mr. Hanson, I venture to oppose even my counsel. 
 We object to nothing. I beg that the question be put 
 and answered." Then in low, yet eager tone, he 
 bent and spoke some words in his counsel's ear. The 
 great lawyer listened, flushed, looked queerly at his 
 client and then at the pallid witness, and without 
 another word resumed his seat. 
 
 "If so," continued Major Flint, after a moment's 
 pause, "state the circumstances." 
 
 For ten seconds there was no reply. With a world 
 of anxiety, even of distress, in his blue eyes, Hoyt sat 
 nervously drumming with his fingers on the arms 
 of the chair, Wallis calmly studying him the while. 
 When at last the answer came,, the tone was hesitant, 
 faltering. *. 
 
 "I had," said Hoyt. "The report, or rather the let- 
 ter, is on file, doubtless, at the War Department, if it has 
 not been placed in the hands of the Judge Advocate, 
 and I should rather it were exhibited to the court, than 
 to repeat verbally, and in this presence," and here 
 the troubled eyes glanced about him at the throng of 
 soldier faces, "allegations which were based on the 
 statements of friends in whom I had implicit confi- 
 dence, but who in part at least, have within the past 
 
FOR THE PROSECUTION. 233 
 
 few hours informed me that their suspicions and my 
 accusation were unjust that the accused officer had 
 made it clear that he was unjustly suspected : in fine 
 that I was wrong. Here and now I accept the respon- 
 sibility. The report was made in entire confidence 
 that it would be fully substantiated. I must this day 
 inform the Adjutant General that it cannot be main- 
 tained." 
 
 The silence that hung over the crowded courtroom 
 was such that the labored breathing of the witness could 
 be distinctly heard, even in the corridor without the 
 open doorway, where men were standing on boxes and 
 chairs to enable them to see over the heads of those 
 blocking the entrance way. Major Flint sat like a man 
 in a trance, gazing straight at Hoyt with wide open, yet 
 almost unseeing eyes. As he expressed it later "The 
 whole room began to swim." Old Buckram, in his box 
 epaulettes the only officer at the table in the full dress 
 uniform of the ante-bellum days grew redder and 
 redder as he glared through his spectacles at the 
 humbled soldier in the witness chair. Tears started to 
 the eyes of two of the senior officers at the board men 
 who had known Bernard Hoyt from the days he wore 
 the gray and bell buttons, and had never known him to 
 say the word or do the deed that could shake his status 
 as a gentleman. Captain Reins started from his chair 
 with outstretched hand as though he longed to place it 
 on the shoulder of the witness. Others sat in a sort 
 of stupefaction, gazing, as did the mass of spectators, 
 first at the last speaker, then at the accused before the 
 
234 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 court. Men could hardly believe their senses as they 
 looked upon that erstwhile debonair, disdainful officer, 
 at once the envy and the despair of so many of his 
 cloth. In all their knowledge or conception of him, 
 never once had Harold Wallis been known to display 
 emotion; yet a dozen witnesses, if need be, could now 
 be found to declare that, under the drooping moustache 
 the finely chiseled lips were quivering that the long, 
 sweeping lashes that shaded the dark eyes were sud- 
 denly dripping with a heavy dew. 
 
 Then, just as the astonishment of the throng of lis- 
 teners, signalized at first by dead silence, began to find 
 vent in low-toned exclamations, long-drawn breaths and 
 sighs, there was sudden movement at the door. Hoyt 
 had bent forward, bowing his head upon, and, as he 
 finished, screening his eyes with his thin, white hand. 
 It had begun slowly to sway, when the young doc- 
 tor sprang from the spot, where, with all his soul 
 in his eyes, he had been watching the witness. In a 
 second he had reached the chair and passed an arm 
 around the drooping figure. "Gentlemen," he said, 
 "Colonel Hoyt is too ill to proceed. Some water, 
 please!" 
 
 Another moment and half a dozen men were swarm- 
 ing about the stricken witness, ignoring Buckram's 
 banging on the table and demands for order. Major 
 Flint sprang to his feet ; hurried to the President's chair 
 and whispered a few eager words. A tall young officer, 
 with very blond hair and faint moustache, wearing the 
 dress of a cavalry subaltern, burst through the crowd 
 
FOR THE PROSECUTION. 235 
 
 at the doorway and knelt at the colonel's side, his white 
 face quivering with grief and dread. And over the 
 hubbub and confusion that prevailed the voice of the 
 President was presently heard proclaiming that court 
 was adjourned until ten A. M. to-morrow. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHATEVER the interest felt by the great war 
 secretary in the proceedings of the Wallis 
 court-martial, it was forgotten for the time at least in 
 another whirlwind of excitement, following close upon 
 the collapse of the case for the prosecution. Fierce bat- 
 tling had begun that very evening in sight of Centerville, 
 barely thirty miles away, and continued much of the 
 2Qth and all of the 3Oth of August. The bulletins from 
 the far front, signed by the commanding general, were 
 of the most inspiring character. The right man had 
 apparently at last been found, and now, with another 
 general who had never yet been tried against Lee and 
 Jackson, assigned to duty in Washington as General- 
 in-Chief and commander of all the forces in the field, the 
 hopes of the administration were high. Pope had lured 
 and tempted the daring Virginians far forward from 
 their legitimate line beyond the Rapidan ; had success- 
 fully manoeuvred them into a false position ; had inter- 
 posed between the widely separated wings of Jackson 
 and Longstreet; had got the former "just where he 
 wanted him," and was now proceeding to crush him out 
 of existence. Jackson had been coaxed by the heavily 
 baited hook to Manassas Junction, between Pope and 
 
 236 
 
"GIVE HIM ROPE." 237 
 
 McClellan, between Warrenton and Washington, as 
 had been said, and now there was no hope for him. 
 Skeptics, it is true, who had known John Pope and 
 read John Phoenix, declared that the former's descrip- 
 tion of the situation bore odd resemblance to the latter's 
 famous account of his fight with the returning editor of 
 the San Diego Herald. Skeptics said that Pope pinned 
 Jackson by a process as simple and satisfactory as that 
 by which Phoenix held the editor, to-wit, by skillfully 
 inserting his nose between the editorial teeth, thereby 
 preventing the editor's rising. Cynics said that Pope's 
 triumphal progress backward from Cedar Mountain to 
 Centerville had historical parallel in the masterly march 
 of Napoleon from Dresden back to Paris, and Pope's 
 stirring reports had their parallel also in the bulletins 
 after Preuss Eylau and Leipsic if not in the memoirs 
 of the late lamented Munchausen : "We have made 
 great captures," wrote the general, though the prisoners 
 must have been later released, possibly on their own 
 recognizance and the captors were falling back on the 
 heights of Centerville. "You have done nobly," an- 
 swered Halleck, from the shaded precincts of the War 
 Department, even though he marveled at the recupera- 
 tive powers of Lee's beaten army, declared the previous 
 day to be in full retreat for the mountains. From 
 Alexandria McClellaw sent word that an officer just in 
 from Manassas said there seemed urgent need of a head 
 at the front, thereby adding to the head and front of his 
 offending, and finally, when Jackson made another of 
 his flanking marches ; swooped a few miles closer to the 
 
238 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 capital and killed brave Phil Kearny and "Ike" Stevens 
 almost within sight of the unfinished dome ; and Pope's 
 heads of columns began to show on the hither side of 
 Fairfax, while those of Lee, with Stuart's bold horse- 
 men in the van, popped into view up the Potomac barely 
 twenty miles away, it became evident to the administra- 
 tion that the Pope's nose was no longer the tit bit of the 
 national bird, that it no longer held the teeth of the 
 Southern war dogs. And when once more the Army of 
 the Potomac crossed the Long Bridge in quest of the 
 Confederate foe, it was northward, not southward 
 bound ; but Little Mac was again at its head, and Pope's 
 headquarters had quit the saddle forever. 
 
 In all the turmoil of that bewildering week, no 
 wonder the court was well nigh forgotten. No wonder 
 no note was taken of the fact that certain witnesses had 
 slipped away to rejoin their regiments on the way to 
 South Mountain, and that further proceedings were 
 rendered impolitic by the fact that two of the detail, 
 seeing no likelihood of another session in the near 
 future, had dared to gallop after their regiments and to 
 take part in the desperate, mismanaged fighting across 
 the Antietam. It made little difference in one way, for 
 the prosecution had proved its case only on certain 
 minor counts. It had failed utterly to substantiate the 
 grave charge of treason or that of conduct unbecoming 
 an officer and gentleman. Defense, except on these 
 minor counts, was quite unnecessary; but Wallis and 
 his counsel sought and demanded exhaustive investiga- 
 tion and a verdict in accordance with the facts estab- 
 
"GIVE HIM ROPE." 239 
 
 lished. They presented themselves at the courtroom at 
 every possible time of meeting, urging that, even with 
 the absence of the two members, the court was not re- 
 duced below the minimum ; that it was still competent to 
 "try and determine" ; that, despite Holman's going, 
 there were other witnesses ; and they presented a list of 
 names, begging that these officers, too, might be sum- 
 moned. Major Flint went to the Judge Advocate 
 General for instructions, and the Judge Advocate Gen- 
 eral to the exasperated Secretary ; but the Secretary was 
 in a quandary. If that court were allowed to continue 
 its sessions, as he clearly saw, the chances were that, 
 three to one, it would acquit Wallis on the most im- 
 portant points and punish him but lightly, if at all. 
 Whereas, if Stanton could procrastinate, other witnesses 
 might be found to fill the gaps created by Hoyt's re- 
 markable "slump," a thing the Secretary could speak of 
 only with wrath and amaze. It might even be possible 
 to secure the exchange and return of Lieutenant Bar- 
 clay, whose evidence would surely be damning. Rue- 
 fully had the Secretary been compelled to grant "ex- 
 tended limits" in response to the demands of counsel in 
 the case of Wallis, and urgently had he been advised by 
 friends of the administration, to drop the whole fight, 
 even though the court acquit. "Give Wallis rope 
 enough and he'll hang himself," said one adviser. 
 "Hold him another week and the press will hang you," 
 said another, for now September, too, was nearing its 
 close, and the papers had time to turn to something be- 
 sides the losses and disasters of the recent campaign. 
 
2 4 o A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 But the court was held to await the call of the President 
 and the coming of other witnesses. Stanton saw a way. 
 
 Meanwhile it really began to look as though, in spite 
 of all his reckless disregard of soldier propriety, the star 
 of Wallis was in the ascendant. It is infinitely easier 
 to start a scandal than to stop or prove it. All over 
 Washington men and women were talking of the trial 
 and of the utterly unlocked for admission of Colonel 
 Hoyt. For several days after his breakdown in court 
 that gallant officer had been threatened with brain fever, 
 the only thing that stood between him and a summons 
 to appear in person before the Secretary to explain, if 
 explain he could. Mrs. Rutherford, too, was seriously 
 ill, constantly attended by her daughter, nurse and 
 physician. Gerald, stunned and sore-hearted, had had 
 to return to his regiment, now with Pleasonton some- 
 where up the Potomac. By the advice of all the doctors 
 in the case, Mrs. Rutherford was taken to that old-time 
 resort of old-time New Yorkers Long Branch, on the 
 Jersey coast whither Hoyt had already been sent, and 
 once again were they under the same roof, but, as all 
 could see, no longer on the same terms. A serious 
 estrangement had grown between the wounded officer 
 and the sorely stricken woman something Ethel had 
 not failed to note, yet from the start had been bidden 
 not to question. 
 
 Once again was Wallis the cynosure of all eyes as, in 
 the September evenings, he sauntered airily into the 
 lobby at Willard's, generally in the company of some 
 prominent senator, never with man or woman whose 
 
"GIVE HIM ROPE." 241 
 
 society did not convey distinction. He held his head 
 higher, said certain correspondents, than many a gen- 
 eral, and with good and sufficient reason. He moved in 
 circles sought in vain by many a superior in rank, and 
 for a time, at least, both in language and in the daily 
 ordering of his life, was discretion itself a thing that 
 must have bored him infinitely. Judge Hanson, his 
 gifted counsel, had returned to Baltimore in the belief 
 that October would come before another session of the 
 court, which was meantime pegging away in reduced 
 numbers on other cases brought before it; and there 
 was perceptible lull in the situation when, all on a sud- 
 den, there came to the city some unlooked-for visitors 
 Miss Lorna Brenham, under the wing of her mater- 
 nal aunt and chaperon, Mrs. de Ruyter, of New York ; 
 Mr. James J. Granger, under the sway of a passion he 
 was powerless to conceal, drawn as though by a single 
 hair. 
 
 Not upon the register of Willard's or other caravan- 
 serai did the names appear. Secret service officials 
 alone took note of their coming, and a close carriage 
 conveyed them in the shades of evening over the long, 
 muddy, ill-paved route from the Baltimore and Ohio 
 station, past the colonnaded Treasury building, past the 
 White House, past the blue-coated guards at the old 
 brown War Department, then, turning to the right, 
 went up the street where Wallis led the officials their 
 lively chase long months before. Mr. Carmichael, that 
 keen-faced man in plain clothes, and a cab, was in no 
 wise surprised when the carriage stopped at the very 
 
242 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 same door whence he had seen Wallis issue in company 
 with that distinguished looking stranger known as 
 Major Forno. The parlor windows glowed. The hos- 
 pitably open door permitted a broad beam from the hall 
 to pour forth upon the night, and the solitary occupant 
 of the cab noted that two trunks and several items of 
 hand luggage were borne after the newcomers into the 
 house, but the carriage was not discharged of all its 
 load. It was still at the curb as Mr. Carmichael came 
 sauntering back from Twenty-first Street, where he had 
 dismissed his cab, and strolled along the opposite side- 
 walk. Then, in the course of ten minutes, Mr. Granger 
 had bounded down the steps and been driven away. 
 There would be no trouble finding out later whither he 
 had gone; Carmichael's business was with the house 
 itself. When toward 9.30 another carriage came rolling 
 up the street and unloaded at the same door, Mr. 
 Granger was the first to step forth, and, just as Car- 
 michael expected, he was followed by the tall, soldierly 
 form of Major Wallis. "Give him rope/' murmured 
 Mr. Carmichael, "that's what the Secretary said give 
 him rope. This time he'll get it round his precious 
 neck." 
 
 This was the week that followed Antietam, during 
 which time it seemed as though once again Little Mac 
 and his chosen were, after all, to reign supreme in the 
 military affairs of the nation. The men in high com- 
 mand, who seriously differed with him and his methods, 
 had suffered curious discomfiture. Pope, of whom so 
 much had been expected, found himself utterly out- 
 
"GIVE HIM ROPE." 243 
 
 classed and presently relegated to a department at the 
 distant rear. McDowell, who was supposed to know all 
 about the neighborhood of Bull Run, had, when most 
 needed, lost himself and his corps as a consequence. 
 Kearny and Stevens, Mansfield and Reno, Rodman 
 and Richardson were killed, Hooker and Sedgwick 
 wounded. The faithful to the fortunes of the great 
 little organizer were assured in their commands, while 
 others, less susceptible to youthful enthusiasms, were 
 relieved. The cavalry were taken from the sterling 
 soldier, w 7 ho well knew how to lead them, and given to 
 untried hands. Cooke's charge at Gaines's Mill had 
 developed Porter's counter charge of disobedience on, 
 and disappearance from, the field ; both unfounded, yet 
 sufficient. Pope's Army of Virginia was broken up 
 and merged in the Army of the Potomac probably the 
 best thing that could have happened to it, for there 
 by hundreds were brave and brilliant officers and by 
 thousands loyal and devoted men, destined despite the 
 superb skill and valor of the opposing generals and the 
 long-continued misfortunes of their own, to endure to 
 the end and to win immortal fame and victory. 
 
 Meantime Washington was crammed with officers 
 and soldiers, sick, wounded or astray, and the White 
 House with would-be advisers of the President, full of 
 suggestion, self-importance and importunity. All the 
 efforts of the provost marshal to separate the martial 
 sheep from the goats, to gather in the stragglers, de- 
 serters, absentees and over-stays were insufficient to 
 greatly reduce the number of uniforms in evidence in 
 
244 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 the streets and suburbs. Bars, billiard rooms and hotel 
 lobbies were measurably purged of loungers and roister- 
 ers in the Union blue; but still the array of the 
 temporarily incapacitated, bearing unimpeachable pa- 
 pers or claiming to have mislaid them, was something 
 almost incredible. The city filled up with faces strange 
 to the most expert of the secret service, and, so long 
 as these faces looked pallid or haggard as the result of 
 recent wounds or illness, they commanded sympathy 
 and kindly aid. What stirred Stanton to the core was 
 the sight of so many apparently sound and hearty men 
 strolling about the quiet streets. His orders, therefore, 
 had become more stringent. The patrols of the provost 
 marshal were constantly on the move and, every few 
 minutes, even wounded officers, taking the air in open 
 carriages or hobbling on crutches along the shady side 
 of the Avenue, were compelled to stop and show their 
 passes or papers. Some of them took to hanging the 
 envelope from a string about their necks or tied to a 
 button. Some facetious volunteers displayed their 
 credentials pinned to the broad of their backs. Almost 
 every man, however, was strictly watched and ac- 
 counted for. Even private citizens were not infre- 
 quently required to give their names and addresses and 
 to establish their identity, for many a soldier sought for 
 the time to hide his trade in the garb of civil life. Mr. 
 James J. Granger was much incensed the morning after 
 his arrival at being thrice accosted on the street, twice 
 by officers commanding patrols, once by a soft-voiced 
 stranger, in pepper and salt sack and "peg tops," who 
 
"GIVE HIM ROPE." 245 
 
 displayed a star within his coat and anxiety as to Mr. 
 Granger's name and business. Granger gave his name 
 and address without embarrassment, but stumbled over 
 the business, compromising finally on "visiting friends 
 and seeking information concerning relatives." 
 
 He had taken, as prearranged, a quiet room in a quiet 
 neighborhood not ten blocks from Willard's or five from 
 Twentieth Street. He had not been too well pleased 
 that the first duty required of him the evening of their 
 arrival was that of going in search of Major Wallis. 
 Wallis might have Georgia affiliations, but they failed, 
 somehow, to include Granger. Wallis might be a 
 Southern sympathizer, "but there's nothing sympatica 
 between us," said Granger, to Miss Brenham. It had 
 not occurred to Granger that, as a soldier, Wallis might 
 feel respect unspeakable for soldiers fighting gallantly 
 for the cause they had been taught from babyhood to 
 consider sacred, whereas he could feel no respect at all 
 for men who covertly wore the colors of that sacred 
 cause, but could not screw their courage to the point of 
 fighting for it. Granger had ever stood somewhat in 
 awe of Wallis, who loftily patronized him. He knew 
 that at bottom he hated Wallis, yet obediently beamed 
 upon him, for such was Lorna Brenham's wish, and 
 he dare not oppose her. He marveled much that Wallis, 
 whom he had secretly rejoiced to hear of as "in arrest 
 and undergoing trial," should walk the streets of Wash- 
 ington unchallenged, even saluted by many a soldier, 
 while he, a sovereign citizen, should be questioned. He 
 did not understand that, now that Wallis's limits were 
 
246 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 extended, that gentleman could walk whithersoever he 
 pleased within the boundaries of the capital, provided 
 he did not venture, unasked, into the presence or prem- 
 ises of his commanding officer, and of commanding offi- 
 cers there seemed to be a number. Stanton, indeed, 
 would have forbidden him Willard's, if he could have 
 done so without seeming to persecute, and thought it 
 most indecorous of Wallis to persist in Willard's as 
 his boarding place. But Wallis had taken a cot there 
 on the morning of his arrival in July, and though, for 
 comfort and economy both, he later secured a room on 
 Eighth Street, he refused, unless ordered, to change his 
 table. It was at Willard's Granger found him on the 
 evening of their arrival, and found him, somewhat to 
 Granger's surprise, and not at all to his satisfaction, 
 expectant of and prepared for his coming. Unbe- 
 knownst to the subservient and adoring messenger, 
 therefore, there had been previous communication be- 
 tween the lady of his love and the dashing soldier. 
 Granger spent the evening in the sulks, listening half an 
 hour to the general conversation between the two ladies 
 and their brilliant, versatile visitor. Then, to his 
 further annoyance, Miss Brenham deliberately drew the 
 major into the adjoining room, a little library, and 
 there conferred in low tone with him as much as twenty 
 minutes without so much as an "excuse me" to either 
 her aunt or him. 
 
 Nor did Granger like it that his instructions required 
 of him that he should go with Major Wallis the follow- 
 ing morning to find a certain secretary of the French 
 
"GIVE HIM ROPE." 247 
 
 Legation. The princes of the House of Orleans had 
 been recalled and were no longer with McClellan; but 
 they had bespoken warm welcome for Wallis whenso- 
 ever he saw fit to make his presence known, and now it 
 was in the power of the minister to furnish information 
 of which Miss Brenham's kindred stood in need. 
 "Etiquette," said Wallis, airily, "prevents my going 
 under existing circumstances to the legation itself ; but 
 ah we can see the man if not ah the master." 
 
 And the legation secretary had been courtesy and 
 sympathy personified. There was nothing the distin- 
 guished Commandant Wallis might ask that it should 
 not be his, the secretary's, utmost endeavor to obtain. 
 As to that let the Commandant be tranquil be assured. 
 A response should be forthcoming on the morrow. 
 Meantime, a glass of wine, a health to the gallant com- 
 rade and entertainer of their Highnesses, his brave 
 compatriots. And so it was after noonday when the 
 major, with his Georgia bred Gothamite, arrived once 
 more within view of the secret service emissary, still 
 "piping" the premises on upper "F" Street. 
 
 A telegraph messenger was coming down the steps as 
 they reached the house, some undelivered despatches 
 still in his hand. Their ring was not immediately an- 
 swered, and Granger pulled the second time. The col- 
 ored servant who admitted them begged to be excused 
 for keeping the gentlemen waiting Miss Brenham had 
 just called for a glass of water at that very moment. 
 Miss Brenham came hurriedly forth from the library to 
 meet them, extending a shapely white hand to each, and 
 
248 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 there were symptoms of excitement, if not agitation, 
 in her face and manner. Eagerly she plunged into a 
 series of quick questions, one on the heels of another, 
 often without waiting for answer. She was so impa- 
 tient, she said, to hear the result of their embassy. 
 She was so obviously, they saw, thinking of something 
 else, and Wallis fathomed it : 
 
 "You have answer, I trust, to the despatch I sent for 
 you last night?" he queried. 
 
 "Yes and no. Mr. Hoyt (Miss Brenham did not 
 recognize titles in the Northern volunteers and was in- 
 different to promotions in the cavalry) has not left Long 
 Branch, but had you heard ? did you know Mr. Bar- 
 clay had been exchanged and was to be sent to Wash- 
 ington ?" 
 
 For once in his life Jim Granger had the satisfaction 
 and comfort of seeing Harold Wallis startled, if not 
 staggered. The major stood one instant, turning gray- 
 ish white, his fingers twitching; but the old, indomitable 
 drawl was still there as he answered : "Quite possible 
 ah I dare say." 
 
 But he quit the house in less than ten minutes ; saun- 
 tered to Twentieth Street ; turned the corner to the left 
 and then fairly sped to Pennsylvania Avenue and his 
 modest quarters, a square or two beyond. That night 
 was a busy one among the boatmen down the Potomac, 
 and one skiff, at least, dodging patrolling crews, found 
 safe harbor below Mathias Point and so speeded an 
 energetic messenger "On to Richmond." 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A CRUCIAL INTERVIEW. 
 
 THE long, rambling if not ramshackle tenement 
 known as Howlands in the early Sixties, bore 
 faint resemblance to the so-called palatial hostelries that 
 line the low bluff at Long Branch in this day and gen- 
 eration. It was the summer abiding place of several 
 old New York families, all the same,, and some of these 
 were staying through September. Mrs. Rutherford 
 and Ethel were still there, Hortense in attendance and 
 the habitual sulks ; Forbes, the assiduous, coming down 
 each Saturday ostensibly to assure himself that Mrs. 
 Rutherford and Miss Ethel wanted for nothing that 
 his vigilance could supply, but actually, as Colonel Ber- 
 nard Hoyt was not slow to see, that he might have 
 conference with Hortense. Hoyt could not abide that 
 woman. Ethel, he plainly saw, was often irritated and 
 annoyed by her, once to the extent of an outbreak. 
 Hortense had dared to be insolent ; had dared her young 
 mistress to report, if Mademoiselle pleased, her lan- 
 guage to Madame, her mother, and see what would 
 come of it. 
 
 Few people were left at Howlands at the time, and 
 the French woman's raucous tones were distinctly 
 audible through the bare and echoing corridors even to 
 
 249 
 
250 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Hoyt, whose room was some distance away. He had 
 seen and spoken with Ethel several times since her 
 coming, but never alone. He had seen and spoken with 
 Mrs. Rutherford but twice, and then only at her urgent 
 request and for a very few minutes. Whatever the 
 cause of their estrangement it was evident that the 
 colonel was in no mood for reconciliation, if that were 
 the object the unhappy lady had in view, and this was 
 the more remarkable since that estrangement had most 
 seriously affected Hoyt's relations with Ethel herself. 
 At the very time when the fortunes of love and war had 
 rolled their floodtide to his feet, when hope in one and 
 preferment in the other had joyously beckoned him on, 
 something had happened, something had been said or 
 done in an almost tragic interview between an imploring 
 woman and an aggrieved and astounded soldier that 
 morning of the 28th of August that changed the whole 
 tenor of his life and aspirations. He had gone to How- 
 lands about the 6th of September, because the medical 
 officer said he must have total rest and should have 
 abundant salt air. Howlands had been his father's 
 favorite resort in earlier days, so Howlands was chosen. 
 He was amazed and disconcerted when told a few days 
 later that Mrs. Rutherford, too, had come. He had 
 eagerly sought Ethel's society on every possible occa- 
 sion hitherto. Now he had earnestly sought to avoid it. 
 He would not have come to Howlands at all had he 
 thought Mrs. Rutherford would follow. He had now 
 no home to go to, and was enjoined by the attending 
 physician not to think of leaving the seashore until he 
 
A CRUCIAL INTERVIEW. 251 
 
 was stronger. Then, when he was stronger and could 
 have gone, he overheard the defiant insolence of Hor- 
 tense and now could not think of going. Something 
 told him Ethel might need help, protection, and 
 now, when he could have thrown pride and scruples to 
 the wind and himself, unreservedly, at her feet, she in 
 turn had become cold and distant. Unerringly had she 
 noted the changed manner the moment they met, and, 
 though it roused her pride and stirred resentment in her 
 heart against him, it had more than ever determined 
 her to wring from her mother's lips the story of that 
 morning's interview, which had left her mother pros- 
 trate, exhausted and in tears, and driven Hoyt to the 
 verge of brain fever and total estrangement. Yet not 
 a word of explanation had been vouchsafed to Ethel, to 
 whose entreaties and tears Mrs. Rutherford could only 
 offer counter entreaty and more copious tears. It was 
 something, she said, that honor commanded _her to hold 
 as sacred for the present. Later Ethel should know all. 
 But, so far as Hoyt was concerned, the barriers were 
 swept away the afternoon Hortense let loose her tirade. 
 He stumped up and down the broad piazza a full hour, 
 impatiently waiting for Ethel to come down, as come 
 she had on every afternoon but this. When five o'clock 
 struck and the last of the bathers, looking blue and 
 shivery, came up from the beach, Hoyt could stand the 
 strain no longer. Going to the office he penned a brief 
 note and sent it to her room. The bell boy came back in 
 two minutes. Miss Rutherford's compliments and re- 
 grets. She was lying down with a violent headache. 
 
252 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Headaches, as a rule, are but transitory things. Two 
 days later, by which time the crutches had been dis- 
 pensed with and Hoyt was hobbling with a stick, Ethel 
 appeared, pale and languid, and was surrounded 
 speedily by the few women flitting about the piazza. 
 She knew he was there and would come as soon as the 
 circle broke, so she kept that circle about her. But she 
 did not know him yet. He came unflinchingly before 
 them all, and held forth his thin, white hand and said : 
 "I, too, am glad you are here again, and I have come to 
 beg a few words as soon as you are at liberty. I may 
 have to go at any moment now." It was the broadest 
 hint to be off the surrounding group had ever heard, 
 but they heeded and saw and forgave and made way, 
 and presently the two were alone, a pair of almost col- 
 orless faces and two pairs of cold, nerveless hands. 
 Bernard Hoyt would rather have faced Pelham's guns 
 again at short range than the look in those clear, blue, 
 resentful eyes. 
 
 "Forgive me for this appeal, when you have so much 
 to worry you," he said, leaning heavily on his hickory 
 cane. He had moved toward a vacant settee, but she 
 would not sit so he was forced to stand. "I am almost 
 well enough to ride if not to walk, and any moment now 
 may be going back to the regiment and to Gerald. Two 
 days ago I was eager. That afternoon I heard distinctly 
 that abominable French woman's insolence and defiance. 
 No, do not let that give you fresh trouble!" he 
 hastened to say, for she had' started and colored at the 
 abrupt announcement. "Try to remember I have known 
 
A CRUCIAL INTERVIEW. 253 
 
 you almost since your babyhood, Ethel; that I was 
 Ralph's chum and friend ; that I am Gerald's friend and 
 fellow soldier, and try to see that though I can have no 
 other claim, these are in themselves reasons why I can- 
 not leave you when something tells me you are threat- 
 ened, that this creature believes she has some hold on 
 your mother that gives her power over you. She is one 
 of that class and race of human fiends that gloried in 
 their torture of the gentle born in the days of the guil- 
 lotine. Ralph distrusted her years ago. Gerald dis- 
 trusts her now. You have been made the victim of her 
 malevolence, and yet she remains here in your mother's 
 employ. Have you not told her?" 
 
 "Mother is too ill to be agitated," was the answer, 
 as Ethel stood there facing him, cold and unbending. 
 "We have been accustomed to the vagaries of Hortense 
 for years. She is all contrition now. There there is 
 not the least occasion, Colonel Hoyt, for your remaining 
 so far as we are concerned," and with this magnifi- 
 cent piece of mendacity on her lips, Miss Ethel's blue 
 eyes blazed squarely into those of the wounded trooper, 
 doubly wounded now, and she half turned as though 
 to say the interview was ended, but he spoke again : 
 
 "You are angry, and I am helpless, Ethel. You 
 were angered at me because I could not tell you last year 
 about Forno and Ralph and Wallis. I did not know 
 enough to speak. Now you are angered when other and 
 graver reasons compel my silence. Your mother has my 
 promise, and not until she releases me, hard though it 
 be, can I speak. You say truly, probably, that there is 
 
254 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 no occasion for my remaining. Forgive me, then, that 
 I intruded. Not until your mother told me did I begin 
 to realize how unwelcome my presence must have 
 been to you. It shall be my duty, of course, to see Major 
 Wallis before I return to the front and tender every 
 amende in my power. Good bye." 
 
 Abruptly he turned and left her left her standing 
 staring after him in amazement. Off to the eastward 
 the blue waves were dancing, capped with snow under 
 the glorious landward breeze. Noisy children were 
 chasing gleefully along the bluffs. Maids and matrons, 
 just a few lingerers, but all the house contained, 
 were grouped about the wooden veranda, covertly, yet 
 curiously watching the pair. What woman at How- 
 lands did not plainly see and know the soldier's passion- 
 ate love for Ethel Rutherford? What one of their 
 number did not thoroughly realize that this was a 
 crucial interview and one by no means to be either 
 interrupted or missed ! . A colored boy, hurrying from 
 the office with a telegram on a tray, was hailed by one 
 of the wisest of these veterans in the art of love and 
 match-making. "For Colonel Hoyt?" she asked. 
 Then, seeing assent in the waiter's eyes, spoke com- 
 mandingly. "Not yet, on any account!" and held him, 
 obedient and unquestioning. Then it was that Hoyt 
 finished his few sad words, and finishing, turned and 
 limped painfully away. But for the heavy thumping 
 of. the heart within his breast and the stout hickory cane 
 upon the resounding wooden floor, he might have heard 
 the gasp, the faint, barely articulate cry with which she 
 
A CRUCIAL INTERVIEW. 255 
 
 strove to detain him when, after a brief moment of 
 stupefaction her senses seemed returning. What could 
 he possibly mean ? "Not until her mother told him had 
 he realized that his presence was unwelcome." "Going 
 to Washington to seek Major Wallis to tender further 
 amende." What in heaven's name could he mean? 
 "Colonel Hoyt Bernard !" she strove to say. But the 
 voice refused its office. She could not speak aloud, and 
 then, when she would have followed, there sat all those 
 women, those hateful, spying women. There stood the 
 negro servant with that fateful, lacquered tray. She 
 kneiv it was a telegram before the boy started forward 
 to deliver it. She saw the colonel take and tear it open ; 
 saw him hurriedly read it through; pause one instant; 
 glance irresolutely toward the silent, expectant watchers 
 beyond ; then, as though dreading question or comment, 
 saw him turn sharply to his left and disappear through 
 one of the long windows that opened to the veranda. 
 Then came Hortense. "Would Mademoiselle attend 
 Madame at once? Madame had received letters from 
 Washington." Ah, there were other reasons now why 
 the girl was most eager to attend Madame, reasons 
 that kept her closeted long hours with the complaining 
 invalid and that prevented her knowing until too late 
 that the colonel left that very afternoon for New York, 
 and that Forbes, the invaluable butler, had come, and, 
 turning about, had gone within the hour of his coming, 
 so as to take the same boat that bore Bernard Hoyt. 
 
 Three days thereafter there was a meeting and a con- 
 sultation in Baltimore that called to the monumental 
 
256 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 city an assortment from our dramatis persona? little to 
 be looked for under existing circumstances and the same 
 roof. The Honorable Beverly Hanson had met with 
 an accident that seriously lamed him and prevented his 
 going to Washington when next needed by his distin- 
 guished client, Major Wallis. Hanson had sprained 
 his ankle and been relegated to the sofa by day, and 
 warned to attend to only such business as could be trans- 
 acted quietly at his home. The War Secretary was 
 properly indignant, yet expressed himself by no means 
 surprised, that Major W T allis should request permission 
 to spend forty-eight hours in Baltimore for the purpose 
 of consulting with his counsel who would be unable to 
 come to Washington for at least a fortnight. The Sec- 
 retary's immediate impulse was to reply, Not by any 
 means. But the request was backed by senators who 
 said the impression had gone forth that Wallis was a 
 persecuted saint ; that he was innocent of all the charges 
 against him and was being held in limbo through the 
 malignity of the War Department. "Better let him go." 
 "Give him more rope," again said one of the advisers, 
 so, grumblingly, Stanton did as advised and Major 
 Wallis received the requisite authority which required 
 him, however, to report himself in person to the com- 
 manding officer of the garrison on arriving at and 
 before leaving Baltimore; and that officer received in- 
 structions to closely observe the major's comings and 
 goings. So did the secret service. 
 
 Was it accident or design that, about that same time, 
 Lorna Brenham, with her attendant aunt and cavalier. 
 
A CRUCIAL INTERVIEW. 257 
 
 left Washington for Baltimore, and all were presently 
 welcomed in the mansions of certain old residents 
 known to be ardent Southern sympathizers, all within 
 a square or so of the distinguished lawyer's homestead ? 
 They were assembled in the Hansons' library the second 
 evening of Wallis's brief stay, gathered in laughing, 
 jubilant chat about the sofa of the great Southern jurist. 
 The cause of the South, despite Lee's leisurely with- 
 drawal to Virginia, whither McClellan would not pur- 
 sue, seemed abundantly hopeful. All Baltimore was 
 talking over the discomfiture of Halleck and Stanton, 
 for McClellan, as usual, thought it no fault of his, but 
 all theirs. It wasn't the kind of talk officers in Union 
 blue were supposed to relish or even patiently to hear, 
 but, despite Wallis's presence, it went on uninterrupt- 
 edly for nearly half an hour, Miss Brenham holding 
 forth with her accustomed brilliancy. But silence and 
 surprise fell upon the assembled party when the white- 
 haired major domo entered, and, bowing before his 
 master's recumbent form, held forth the silver salver 
 that had done duty in the household since early Colonial 
 days. Thereon lay a single card. Still laughing over 
 Lorna's latest sally, Hanson took the card and read 
 aloud: "Colonel Bernard Hoyt, th New York 
 Cavalry." ' 
 
 Mrs. de Ruyter instantly arose and signalled her 
 niece. "Don't go! don't go!" protested Hanson. 
 "Why shouldn't you see him, all of you? I have 
 learned to honor this man, though I cannot imagine 
 why he should be here!" 
 
258 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "I will step into the parlor, sir," said Wallis, rising. 
 "It is possible he is seeking me. I had an intimation 
 two days ago." 
 
 There was an interesting tableau as Colonel Hoyt ap- 
 peared under the curtains at the arched entrance to the 
 cozy old library. In the soft glow from the lamps on 
 the mantel and table, stood Lorna Brenham, tall, dark 
 and triumphantly beautiful, smiling saucy welcome 
 upon the intruder, from the foot of Hanson's couch. 
 At her left and a little back among the shadows, hovered 
 Granger, neither smiling nor content. In her easy- 
 chair, portly and self-satisfied, as became a de Ruyter, 
 sat the chaperon, her eyes on the newcomer, as he 
 bowed low to the lady of the house, who had swept 
 gracefully, graciously forward to bid him welcome. 
 Under the curtain, shutting off the parlor, stood in the 
 dark background, Major Wallis, silent and observant. 
 
 "I trust I may be pardoned this intrusion," began 
 Hoyt, his voice telling at once of constraint, even of 
 distress of mind, telling of a trying duty that had to 
 be discharged, come what might. "I am sorry to see 
 Judge Hanson so crippled ; but I must go on to Wash- 
 ington at ten o'clock, and they told me Major Wallis 
 was here," and Hoyt glanced about him, inquiringly. 
 
 "He is here, and you are most welcome, Colonel 
 Hoyt. Pray come over and let me shake hands with 
 you, for I cannot rise. My daughter, Miss Hanson; 
 Colonel Hoyt Mrs. de Ruyter. Miss Brenham you 
 know, and Mr. Granger, of course. Wallis will be 
 with us in a moment." 
 
A CRUCIAL INTERVIEW. 259 
 
 Obediently yet slowly, Hoyt came forward, leaning 
 heavily still upon his cane. He had bowed to and 
 shaken hands with Miss Hanson ; then with her father ; 
 then had turned to answer briefly Miss Brenham's half 
 laughing, half defiant challenge, and was then bowing 
 to Mrs. de Ruyter and coldly and formally, to Granger 
 when presently again the old butler entered with his 
 silver tray. 
 
 "I can't see anybody else just now," began Hanson, 
 impatiently. "However, I'll look at the card. What ! 
 Lieutenant Edward Clayton Barclay, U. S. In- 
 fantry! Is the gentleman there in the hall?" 
 
 " Yeas suh ; drove up in a carriage just after the colo- 
 nel came. He asked especially, suh, if Major Wallis, 
 too, was hyuh." 
 
 "Well, of all the extraordinary things ! Wallis, did 
 you hear this ?" and with lowered voice the crippled host 
 turned to accost the tall officer coming forward into 
 the light, with eyes that glittered and a face visibly 
 pale. Hoyt, his back to the entrance, his hand still 
 extended to Mrs. de Ruyter, looked up in surprise; then, 
 catching sight of Wallis's white face, dropped his hand 
 and stood gazing at him. Then, in the midst of the 
 strange silence that had fallen on the entire party, a 
 springy step was heard on the marble tiling of the hall- 
 way, and a cheery, boyish voice, at sound of which 
 Wallis started as though shot. The curtains were 
 thrown aside, and, in the uniform of a lieutenant of the 
 national army, there came striding joyously, confidently, 
 daringly into the room not Ned Barclay, not an officer 
 
260 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 of the United States, but a soldier of the rebellious and 
 defiant South, and lame as he was, Bernard Hoyt 
 whirled about at sound of the gasping, almost agonized 
 cry that broke from the bloodless lips of Harold 
 Wallis : 
 
 "Eugene, Eugene, are you mad!" 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 IN DEFENSE OF A BROTHER. 
 
 LONG as he lives Bernard Hoyt will never forget 
 that night, even though part of it was passed in 
 oblivion. For one brief moment after ,the major's 
 startled cry a silence as of amaze seemed to have fallen 
 on the assembled party a paralysis, partly of terror, 
 that held some of their number spellbound. It might 
 be impossible to say who was first to regain control of 
 his or her faculties. Lorna Brenham and Colonel Hoyt, 
 however, were the first to move. The woman's in- 
 tuition and her year's experience in many a scene that 
 tried her wit and nerve, were quick to show her the 
 peril of Eugene's position. A Confederate officer in 
 Union uniform, under false name, with false papers 
 what could it mean but that he was a spy, and, once 
 captured in that garb and under that name, what could 
 it lead to but death ? Oh, she knew, well she knew 
 for many a desperate plan had been discussed in her 
 presence and well she understood the fearful nature 
 of this mad attempt. Escape at any cost, in any direc- 
 tion, was her first thought for him, and with that in 
 view, she sprang like startled deer swift to his side, 
 to lead him forth before Hoyt could move to hinder. 
 But already Hoyt, too, had roused, and with blazing 
 eyes and face almost white with the intensity of his 
 
 261 
 
262 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 purpose, had started forward, one hand extended as 
 though to clutch the throat of the mad venturer within 
 the lines, the other, alas, hampered with the heavy cane, 
 without which walking was still impossible. Together 
 and almost at the same instant they bore down upon the 
 disturber, standing there now livid and trembling, for 
 he, too, had suddenly seen realized his peril and the 
 awful cost. And then in his extremity, in mad and 
 frantic impulse to rid himself of the one hostile witness 
 to his soldier crime, heedless of where he stood or by 
 whom he was surrounded, deaf to Hanson's warning 
 shout, to Lorna Brenham's low, vehement cry, to 
 Nathalie Hanson's half stifled shriek, he whipped his 
 pistol from the ready holster and, but for the spring of 
 that splendid Southern girl and the swift, frenzied 
 clutch of her jeweled white hands, the navy Colt would 
 then and there have spoken a Union trooper's death war- 
 rant. Over went the costly library lamp as, with the 
 leap of a panther, Lorna Brenham hurled herself upon 
 him, her long, slender ringers, with a marvel of nervous, 
 sinewy strength, lacing about his shaking grasp. Down 
 came the blue-sleeved arm, swift almost as it rose. 
 Down came the vengeful hammer at the mad pull of the 
 trigger, but never reached the gleaming copper of the 
 fresh-capped cone. The sharp circular rim cut a cruel, 
 purple groove into the fair skin, but never loosed the 
 firm, fearless hold. "Give it me, instantly," she de- 
 manded, fierce and commanding, her words almost 
 hissing between her set teeth, her dark eyes flashing in 
 the intensity of the struggle. Insensibly, mechanically, 
 
IN DEFENSE OF A BROTHER. 263 
 
 he released his grasp, and she sent the weapon spinning 
 toward the hall. It caught in the folds of the heavy 
 damask at the archway, and fell harmless into the depths 
 of the furred rug beneath. Even then her work was 
 but half done. Quick as before, she sprang in front 
 of the trembling youth, between him and the menacing 
 soldier of the Union, and the hand that hurled the 
 pistol aside, flew almost into Hoyt's stern, set face, 
 palm foremost, warning him back. 
 
 "Stop !" she cried. "I saved your life, Colonel Hoyt ! 
 You owe something to me. Stop !" Yet recoil she had 
 to, a step before his determination stride. "Stop! 
 Hear me!" she repeated. And now stop he had to, 
 or force her rudely back. 
 
 "It is my duty," he began, but got no further. Find- 
 ing himself screened, yet disarmed, young Wallis made 
 a leap for the fallen Colt; but, even as he stooped to 
 seize it, again she was upon him. "How dare you, 
 Eugene ! You would hang us all all ! You fool ! 
 You idiot!" Then a second time she grasped him; 
 again she turned and confronted Hoyt, again painfully 
 hobbling toward her. "Oh, you won't be warned !" she 
 cried. Then, "Yes that's right ! quick ! Jim Gran- 
 ger, if you're not a coward, help Major Wallis !" 
 
 There was a moment of fearful struggle. Springing 
 from behind, Harold Wallis had thrown his right arm 
 about the colonel's throat, while the left encircled the 
 body, pinning the trooper's left arm to his side. Down 
 went the cane with a crash, as Hoyt struck furiously 
 with clinched right fist over the left shoulder at his 
 
264 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 captor's face. Mrs. de Ruyter, all dignity forgotten, 
 uttered a squawk of fright and dismay, and collapsed 
 in her big chair. Mr. Hanson, vainly striving to make 
 himself heard, had struggled to his one unbandaged 
 foot and, enfolded by his shrinking daughter's arm, 
 clung to the back of the lounge with one hand and 
 reached impotently toward the swaying wrestlers with 
 the other. All too soon was the fierce grapple ended. 
 Forgetful, in the rage of conflict, Hoyt threw his weight 
 upon the wounded leg. It gave way under him and 
 down they went with fearsome force upon the floor, 
 Hoyt's forehead striking the sharp corner of the old 
 Colonial sofa as he plunged forward and that ended 
 it all. The blood was spurting from an awful gash in 
 the white temple as the now nerveless arms relaxed 
 their hold and the Union soldier lay there, prostrate, 
 senseless, sorestricken, while his brother officer in the 
 Union blue slowly found his feet and, with clinching 
 hands, with heaving chest, with quivering, pallid, 
 dreadful face, stood gazing down upon the ruin he had 
 wrought, seeing unerringly that, crushed and humbled 
 as was his rival now, there had come at last to him, the 
 victor, a ruin infinitely greater the utter wreck and 
 ruin of his whole career. 
 
 Again the awful silence was broken by Lorna Bren- 
 ham's voice. That woman should have been riding 
 with Lee and Jackson, mailed, helmeted and spurred 
 the Jeanne d'Arc of the Southern cause. "Go for 
 water, sponges, towels quick !" she ordered Granger. 
 "No. Don't let the butler in ! Eugene, go to Mr. Han- 
 
IN DEFENSE OF A BROTHER. 265 
 
 son's room and get out of that uniform at once !" Then 
 down on her knees she went before them all, beside 
 the fallen man; and, after one quick, searching look 
 into the pallid face, glanced up into the haggard eyes of 
 him, who, still erect, had yet fallen, as reason told him, 
 beyond all hope of ever standing again a trusted soldier 
 of the flag. 
 
 A little later, as Hoyt lay, at intervals feebly moan- 
 ing on the broad bed in Hanson's own room a large 
 chamber adjoining the library on the parlor floor 2 there 
 had been brief, hurried conference in which once more 
 it was Lorna Brenham whose nerve and will and keen, 
 quick wit had made her the guiding spirit, for even the 
 renowned lawyer seemed stunned and appalled at the 
 magnitude of the catastrophe that had beset them. 
 White, stern and self repressed, Harold Wallis had but 
 little to say. What was there to say? He, a Union 
 officer, had assaulted and crushed a comrade who, in 
 the discharge of soldier duty, was striving to arrest an 
 armed enemy of the United States in the garb and 
 guise of its own defenders, and, under the law, nothing 
 less than a spy. One of two things had Harold Wallis 
 to do and do quickly: either aid in the arrest of his 
 own brother, the traitor to his country's cause, or else 
 aid in the escape of that brainless, reckless lad the 
 little Benjamin of the father's love that honored and 
 beloved father's last charge to him, to Harold, to his 
 first born, to his hope and pride and strength that 
 beloved father whose own life had gone out gloriously 
 in battle for the stars and stripes whose pleading face, 
 
2 66 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 *. 
 whose parting words, even in that supreme moment 
 
 when instant action was demanded of the son, had 
 blinded the eyes, had deadened the ears of a proud and 
 sensitive soldier to the cause of soldier duty, and baffled 
 and broken and damned him, a recreant to a soldier's 
 trust. What, indeed, was there left to say ? What now 
 could he ever do to undo this foul blot on his record ? 
 this wretched night's work? Nothing! Ended for 
 good and all was the career he loved. But at least he 
 could face his father when they met beyond the grave 
 there was yet time to save the brother. 
 
 Little indeed did that shallow hearted boy deserve 
 the infinite effort. Like other spoiled and petted chil- 
 dren, seeing the fearsome plight into which his mad 
 folly had plunged them all, it suited his humor now 
 to play the role of injured innocence to relapse into 
 sulky, sullen, exasperating mood under the lash of 
 Lorna Brenham's furious tongue. Fool, dolt, idiot 
 she had called him, even as she plied sponge and 
 towels over the prostrate head of Bernard Hoyt. 
 How dare he take such senseless risk? What pos- 
 sible good did he expect to accomplish? What 
 earthly object had he in this desperate masquerade? 
 Risk? he answered, hotly. Had not Harold sent 
 word that at all hazards Ned Barclay's exchange 
 must be stopped? It couldn't be stopped! It was 
 an accomplished fact! The exchange had been or- 
 dered before Harold's cipher letter came. But, 
 though that exchange could not be stopped, Barclay 
 might be, provided "men of nerve and resource" 
 
IN DEFENSE OF A BROTHER. 267 
 
 would but try it. "I shouldn't have been my father's 
 son," said Eugene, proudly, "if I hadn't tried." 
 Magruder helped him. Magruder gave him com- 
 mand of the guard that was to take Barclay and a 
 dozen other sick and exchanged officers, strangers to 
 Barclay and mostly to each other, in the steamer down 
 the James. The rest was easy. Renshaw went with 
 them as doctor a daring young scion of the South. 
 Renshaw had been shown Harold's desperate letter 
 to "Forno," now colonel of artillery commanding the 
 defenses about Drewry's Bluff. Renshaw "pre- 
 scribed" for Barclay, who was weak and ailing; put 
 him to sleep in his, the doctor's own stateroom under 
 a strong narcotic; stripped him of his uniform and 
 papers and sent him ashore by night to be cared for 
 by friends near Norfolk until this thing blew over. 
 Then Eugene donned the uniform and all; was aided 
 from the doctor's stateroom to the gangplank, and, 
 stepping from one boat to another in Hampton 
 Roads, was landed, all unknown and unsuspected, at 
 Fort McHenry that very evening, and here he was, 
 the hero, in his own eyes, of a stupendous sensation, 
 and only just awakening to the consciousness of his 
 crime. 
 
 No time to talk of that now! Action action was 
 what was needed. Escape was the instant thought, 
 and what hope was there of that? Peering through 
 the parlor blinds, Major Wallis had sighted a stout- 
 built man in civilian garb questioning the coachman. 
 He knew what that meant. The house was watched 
 
268 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 so long as he and they remained. It was Lorna who 
 solved the problem and planned the move. Miss 
 Hanson and her aunt feebly, tremulously, but all un- 
 questioning aiding her. Anodyne was administered 
 to Hoyt as he began to show faint symptoms of re- 
 turning consciousness. Eugene was bundled into an 
 adjoining room and bidden to shave at once his bud- 
 ding moustache the fool of a lad would even have 
 rebelled at that then made to doff boots and uni- 
 form; to don certain voluminous skirts over a spare 
 "skeleton" a species of feminine wire entanglement 
 the like of which he had never tried before. A loose 
 dressing sacque completed the upper section. A 
 flounced skirt of tulle a discarded ball dress of Miss 
 Hanson's was fastened about his waist. Then, with 
 Lorna's sortie du bal her especial pride, a costly 
 fabric fetched from Paris the winter before the war 
 shrouding Eugene from shoulder to heel, and his 
 head done up in veiling, he was hurried forth to the 
 carriages, Granger and Mrs. de Ruyter in speechless 
 attendance, although it was made to appear that it 
 was Mrs. de Ruyter who required support. Then he 
 was driven with them to the home of the Courtnay 
 Soutter's, to which hospitably Southern and sympa- 
 thetic household, Miss Brenham and that very docile 
 aunt had been making their visit. Half an hour later 
 the carnage returned and Granger assisted a slender 
 form in that same sortie du bal up the steps and into 
 the house, under the gaze of the sauntering secret 
 service personage, but it was Miss Brenham's maid, 
 
IN DEFENSE OF A BROTHER. 269 
 
 own sister to Hortense, who then emerged from that 
 comprehensive cloak, Mrs. de Ruyter and Eugene 
 having been left on neutral and, thus far, unguarded 
 ground. 
 
 But still much more had to be done. Hanson's 
 own carriage was ordered in readiness forthwith. 
 The stables opened on an alley-way, but stood direct- 
 ly in rear of and communicating with the house. Into 
 that carriage Bernard Hoyt, his head in bandages, 
 his senses in a stupor, was borne by Wallis, Granger 
 and the footman. The coachman, an old and devoted 
 family servant, silently received his instructions and 
 drove away with his drowsy burden inside and a let- 
 ter to a certain client of Judge Hanson's who dwelt 
 far out on the old Liberty Road. Going through the 
 alley to the opposite side of the square, this carriage 
 escaped the scrutiny of the single official in front of 
 the house. His two aids were unluckily around the 
 corner at the adjoining street. What now remained 
 was to provide for Eugene's return to the Confeder- 
 ate lines. It could not be long before "murder would 
 out," and, Barclay being missing, search be made. 
 With the blood on the parlor rug mopped up and signs 
 of struggle removed, with Eugene and Hoyt both 
 safely trundled away, Lorna feared not any visit that 
 might be made by suspicious provost guardsmen now. 
 But on the morrow Major Wallis was due at Wash- 
 ington. What then must become of Eugene? 
 
 Two carriages, as has been said, had stopped in 
 front of the Hanson House that starlit October even- 
 
270 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 ing; one discharging an officer in the uniform of a 
 colonel of Union cavalry, who moved with difficulty 
 and by the aid of a heavy cane; the other, arriving 
 barely three minutes later, had been bidden to wait 
 by the young gallant in the garb of a lieutenant of 
 regulars, who fairly sprang across the stone pave- 
 ment and up the marbled steps to the front door. 
 Coachman Number One was exchanging confidences 
 regarding their respective fares with his brother of 
 the second hack, and commenting on the contrast be- 
 tween the halting movements of the one and the light 
 and agile spring of the other, when a stout built, lit- 
 tle civilian sauntered up under the gaslight and began 
 to ask questions a thing the average hackman wel- 
 comes, because it gives him opportunity to be im- 
 pudent. The newcomer wished to be told where 
 coachee had picked up his passenger, and who he 
 was, and was getting some inconsequent reply when 
 there came that sudden sound as of struggle within 
 the mansion, and the parlor lights as suddenly went 
 down. 
 
 Whatever the cause, the excitement was appar- 
 ently short lived. The sounds had stopped as sud- 
 denly as they began. All three men thought they 
 heard a stifled scream, a heavy fall; and the stout 
 civilian had been visibly and keenly interested. He 
 tripped away swiftly to the street corner as ,silence 
 fell again, but returned almost immediately, and was 
 still there when about 9 o'clock the front door opened, 
 and a young man in evening dress, a young woman 
 
IN DEFENSE OF A BROTHER. 271 
 
 hooded and mantled, came down the steps support- 
 ing an elderly lady. The old colored butler, follow- 
 ing, asked which was Mr. Barclay's carriage, bade 
 the driver take them to the residence of Mr. Court- 
 nay Soutter, a few squares distant, and the three were 
 swallowed up in the dark depths of the hack and 
 driven away. Again did the alert little civilian skip 
 to the corner and say something to somebody in wait- 
 ing in the dim light of the side street, and return to 
 his station. In less than half an hour the carriage 
 returned; so did the young gentleman in evening 
 dress, and very carefully he aided to alight a slender 
 young woman in that same long, luxurious sortie du 
 bal. The hood, however, did not seem to match the 
 delicate and dainty cloak, yet was effective in ob- 
 scuring the features of the wearer. Leaning on the 
 arm of Mr. Granger, who seemed more than usually 
 pallid and nervous, she ascended the steps and they 
 were admitted without the formality of knocking or 
 ringing. Evidently they were expected. 
 
 Ten o'clock was striking when next the front door 
 opened, carriage Number One being still there await- 
 ing its fare, and this time the light of the vestibule 
 lamp shone brilliantly on the radiant features of Miss 
 Lorna Brenham, as she came forth into the night, 
 saying laughing farewells to invisible friends within 
 the hospitable hallway. Then, taking Mr. Granger's 
 arm, she lightly descended the marble steps; glanced 
 joyously about her as though revelling in the beauty 
 of the still autumn evening, the spangled skies, and 
 
272 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 the consciousness of her own charm and power. The 
 stout civilian was not so far away that her keen eyes 
 failed to mark him, and yet her voice had a glad, 
 triumphant ring as she gave her queenly order. 
 "Home again, driver. Then, Mr. Granger, where 
 shall he take you?" 
 
 The butler, white-haired and ceremonious, had fol- 
 lowed, and now bowed low as they drove away. 
 Then turning to the other coachman, he said, "You 
 need not wait longer. The colonel sends this," and 
 tendered a bill, at sight of which that wide-awake 
 horseman whipped up his team and drove instantly 
 away lest the mistake be discovered, and he be re- 
 quired to refund, or furnish change. And so it hap- 
 pened that when the half hour came only a stout and 
 semi-mystified civilian, impatiently scouting in front 
 of the mansion, remained to greet a little squad of 
 officers that arrived almost on a run. Only a very 
 sleepy servitor answered their loud knock and ring. 
 Only a very dignified and decidedly supercilious 
 major of infantry came forward into the vestibule to 
 see what was wanted. "Judge Hanson," he loftily 
 explained, "is too lame to leave his sofa. Miss Han- 
 son has retired, and Mr. or ah rather Colonel 
 Hoyt why ah the colonel should be well on his 
 way to Washington by this time, at least ah such 
 was his intention when he left ah at ten o'clock. 
 Lieutenant Barclay? Oh, ah, the gentleman who 
 came in search of Colonel Hoyt. Ah, yes, they prob- 
 ably will next be heard of in Washington." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A RUINED CAREER. 
 
 EXCITEMENT to an unusual degree was mani- 
 fest about the old War Department building 
 the morning that followed this eventful night in Bal- 
 timore. Strange and stirring news had come from 
 up the Potomac, from the neighborhood of that de- 
 lightful nook in the mountains where the hamlet of 
 Knoxville nestled at the edge of the beautiful river, 
 with the London Heights but a short distance away 
 on the Virginia shore, and those of Maryland shield- 
 ing the valley from the winds that in winter swept 
 down from the Alleghenies of Western Pennsylvania, 
 and bound in icy fetters the swift-running stream that 
 swirls and eddies among the rocks at Harper's Ferry. 
 A charming resort for rest and recuperation was 
 the Catoctin Valley in early October, and there had 
 McClellan lingered while Lee and his battered bat- 
 talions leisurely took the route up the Shenandoah. 
 Then, week followed week after the bloody work of 
 Antietam, and the only thing doing in the Army of 
 the Potomac seemed to be refitting. The order of 
 the day was draw clothing, shoes, and poker. Much 
 as the army, and incidentally the administration, 
 might wish for another clinch with Lee, they couldn't 
 
 273 
 
274 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 stir McClellan until he was ready, and then it was, as 
 before, that the Virginian took the initiative, and the 
 news that stirred the War Department to its very 
 foundation this fine October morning, wired or wig- 
 wagged from various points in view of the Maryland 
 Heights, sent officers, orderlies and clerks scurrying 
 up and down-stairs and all over town, was of such 
 a character as to completely overshadow in impor- 
 tance two despatches that came buzzing in from Bal- 
 timore toward eleven o'clock. A very excitable staff 
 official by no means one of the placid Townsend 
 type, but rather of the vehement, energetic, high- 
 pressure personages usually dear to the secretarial 
 heart went running, wide-eyed and open-mouthed 
 into the secretarial office, and ventured to burst in 
 all unannounced upon a conference of the powers, 
 and to interrupt the lion in the midst of a terrific 
 tirade at the expense of certain generals up the river 
 who had permitted something or other to be done 
 under their very noses. "Order them to pursue at 
 once!" was Stanton saying. Order Pleasanton here 
 and Porter there and Buford elsewhere. Order guns 
 to Frederick; cavalry to Point of Rocks; brigades up 
 the Monocacy, up the Catoctin up to the Gaps; 
 cover every ferry, block every ford; stop every hole; 
 surround, circumvent, capture, gobble, annihilate, but 
 get them whatever else you do! get them! Not a 
 horse or man of that crowd must ever get back to 
 Virginia! Mark the Secretary's words, now, not one! 
 "What the devil do you want, sir? Despatches from 
 
A RUINED CAREER. 275 
 
 Baltimore? Damn Baltimore! They can't be any- 
 where near Baltimore. I wish to God they were! 
 Then we might nab them instanter! No, sir! This 
 is no time for side shows. What I want is Stuart 
 dead or alive." 
 
 Then away went the Secretary to the White House, 
 for this was a cabinet day and the very devil was to 
 pay along the Potomac. And thus it happened that, 
 up to a later hour in the afternoon, there was no one 
 in actual authority in the War Department to give 
 definite orders on a matter the commanding officer 
 at Baltimore conceived, in the light of his instruc- 
 tions, to be of no little importance, for at noon he 
 wired to know whether his previous telegram had 
 been received, and that previous message read sub- 
 stantially as follows: 
 
 " Adjutant General, 
 
 " Washington. 
 
 " Major H. Wallis failed to report this morning, nor did he take 
 train for Washington. Has not been seen since last night. What 
 instructions ? " 
 
 Another wire from the same source, received al- 
 most at the same time read: 
 
 " Adjutant General, 
 
 " Washington. 
 
 " Lieutenant E. C. Barclay, th Infantry, arrived with exchanged 
 prisoners Fort McHenry 6 P. M. yesterday. Disappeared before 
 seven. Traced to residence Beverly Hanson. Major Wallis there 
 at time, also Colonel B. Hoyt. Inmates declare Hoyt and Barclay 
 
276 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 left for Washington 10 P. M. Not seen at depot or on trains. Can- 
 not be found here. Captain Webb exchanged, says Barclay seri- 
 ously ill when leaving Richmond. Looked like different man on 
 reaching Baltimore." 
 
 No wonder the acting assistant adjutant general in 
 charge of telegrams was in something of a flutter. 
 With more experience he would have gone to his 
 immediate chief instead of direct to Stanton. But he 
 was young and callow and over-enthusiastic, and, 
 only when too late to undo the error, went he to the 
 over-worked Adjutant General himself, busy at the 
 moment dictating wires by the dozen, to command- 
 ers all over middle and western Maryland. By the 
 time his attention could be secured it was high noon, 
 and a third despatch had come. 
 
 " Adjutant General, 
 
 " Washington. 
 
 "Ascertained that Major Wallis left Hanson residence about 
 midnight. Report of strange disturbance there 8 P. M. Am send- 
 ing you staff officer with particulars first train." 
 
 It was after two o'clock when that officer, accom- 
 panied by a stout-built civilian, reached the war office 
 and the presence of the chief, and what they had to 
 tell was of such a character that messengers were de- 
 spatched at once to Willard's and elsewhere to see if 
 Colonel Hoyt had reached the city, while in person the 
 Adjutant General waited with his news upon the Sec- 
 retary of War, and for the tenth time that day, prob- 
 ably, Stanton arose, as the papers were fond of saying, 
 'like a lion in his wrath," and began to make the fur 
 
A RUINED CAREER. 277 
 
 fly. To clinch the case against Major Wallis he had 
 especially needed the evidence of Lieutenant Barclay, 
 and now Barclay was missing. To bring matters to 
 a head where Wallis was concerned, he needed, of 
 course, to bring Wallis again before the court, and 
 now Wallis was missing. To make Colonel Hoyt 
 fully conscious of the depth of his, the Secretary's 
 disgust at his utter failure as a witness for the prose- 
 cution, Stanton had had in mind a project for Hoyt's 
 grave discomfiture so soon as Hoyt should report for 
 duty, and now, by the Eternal, Hoyt, too, was miss- 
 ing! All three missing! All three mysteriously as- 
 sembled at the residence of the arch counsel and con- 
 spirator Hanson, and all three now as mysteriously 
 disappeared! What could it mean but that Hoyt 
 had gone over, soul and body, bag and baggage to 
 the cause of the accused, if not, indeed, to the cause 
 of the enemy? What could it mean but that there 
 had been some deep-laid plot to lure the government's 
 witness, Barclay, to the residence of the counsel for 
 the accused, and there either to convert, corrupt or 
 make way with him? The story of the excitement, 
 the sounds of struggle, the fall, the crash, the mys- 
 terious goings and comings about the Hanson house 
 stirred him to the spinal marrow. More messages 
 had flashed to and fro, and at four o'clock that after- 
 noon the order went forth to all secret service of- 
 ficials, to the provost marshals of the great cities near 
 the front, and to police agencies everywhere, to 
 search for three Union officers believed to be deserted 
 
278 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 to the enem^, to wit: Colonel Bernard Hoyt, Major 
 Harold Wallis and Lieutenant E. C. Barclay, and 
 to apprehend or arrest them wheresoever found. 
 Also there went another mandate calling for prompt 
 and summary measures to bring to justice one Bever- 
 ly Hanson, a citizen of Baltimore, sympathizing with 
 the cause of the States in rebellion, and if need be 
 to search his homestead for the persons of the dere- 
 lict officers and, incidentally, for any incriminating 
 evidence that might there be found. 
 
 The odd part of this was that Hanson knew it al- 
 most as soon as did the provost marshal of Baltimore, 
 and was far less flurried at the prospect. The officers 
 of the law who called upon him that evening, as he 
 was being aided to his seat at the dinner table 
 his daughter and two or three old and respected resi- 
 dents of Baltimore being the others present were 
 received with marked civility and courtesy, and bid- 
 den to make the search as they saw fit, and themselves 
 perfectly at home. Marvelous, indeed, was the con- 
 trast between the demeanor of this distinguished 
 civilian and counselor and that of the military victim 
 of the same vehement order, who fell forthwith into 
 the clutches of the martial law. Bernard Hoyt when 
 told he was under arrest turned to and fought like 
 a tiger. 
 
 Marked as had been the excitement about the War 
 Department all that day, it was but the shadow of the 
 sensation that thrilled all Baltimore. The failure of 
 Lee's northward march to "fire the Maryland heart" 
 
A RUINED CAREER. 279 
 
 and rouse the State to concerted action, had caused 
 woeful disappointment to the faithful. Then the bloody, 
 bootless fight at Sharpsburg had proved fearful in its 
 array of killed and desperately wounded, for hun- 
 dreds of prominent Southern families living both 
 North and South, were plunged in grief and many 
 and many a homestead was decked in mourning. 
 But, little by little, hope and courage came again as 
 McClellan halted at the Potomac, balking when all the 
 Northland would have said pursue. Lee, finding him- 
 self unfollowed, strung his bivouacs along the Shen- 
 andoah and his pickets beside the Potomac shore. 
 The stars and bars still waved in sight of Northern 
 soil. The blue St. Andrew's cross still quivered in 
 its field of red, stirred by the Northern breeze, and, 
 though in heavy divisions the Union army camped 
 along the dividing river, gay gallants of Maryland 
 and Virginia were galloping about the old familiar 
 lanes by night and whispering tales of hope to many 
 a sympathetic ear tales that were repeated far and 
 wide and came with the swiftness of the wind to Balti- 
 more. Cities must not starve at such times. Farm- 
 ers by hundreds must enter, driving in with flocks and 
 herds, with food, forage and news, and at the very 
 moment when sore and anxious hearts were brooding 
 over the peril which involved two brothers, the ques- 
 tion that kept two households in sleepless vigils and 
 conference all the livelong night was settled thrill- 
 ingly, unexpectedly with the coming of the dawn 
 and tidings from the Blue Ridge. 
 
280 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 Eugene had been safely spirited away to the Sout- 
 ters, where, about midnight, Harold Wallis joined 
 him. The problem now was to get him back across 
 the Potomac at once and before the beginning of the 
 hue and cry sure to be raised as soon as "Barclay" 
 was missed, and it was discovered that Major Wallis 
 had failed to return to Washington. Looking ten 
 years older, his face white and lined and drawn, Har- 
 old was writing letters in the library. Well they 
 realized, all but the dullard who had thus involved 
 them, that the end of Harold's soldier days had come, 
 that never again would he be permitted to draw 
 sword for the old flag. Stanch rebel that she was, 
 Lorna Brenham almost sobbed aloud at sight of the 
 dumb agony in his eyes, but he led her aside and 
 spoke low and hurriedly, Eugene being the one 
 thought, Eugene, that wretched little Benjamin of 
 their father's heart; he must not be taken; he must 
 not die the death of a spy throttled like coward as- 
 sassin by the noose. Back to the shelter of the stars 
 and bars they must spirit him within another night 
 and day or the gates would be closed forever. Already 
 he was out of soldier and into civil garb the Soutters 
 had seen to that. Oh, if they could but get him out of 
 Maryland ! Over on the eastern shore were kinsfolk 
 who could give him refuge for awhile, but how to send 
 him thither was the question. Every boat across the bay 
 was searched. Pickets watched the Susquehanna about 
 Havre de Grace. The old route to Virginia down by 
 Port Tobacco and across to Mathias Point might, of 
 
A RUINED CAREER. 281 
 
 course, be tried, but, above all others, it would be 
 patrolled as never before within another day. "He 
 hasn't sense to go alone," said Harold, sadly. "I, or 
 some one, must be with him." 
 
 "But you, major, how can you go?" was the question 
 asked by the elder Soutter, even then writing importu- 
 nate summons to one of the keenest of the Confederate 
 colony at hand. 
 
 "How can I stay?" was the solemn answer. "There 
 is nothing left for me now." 
 
 It had been arranged that, when the Hansons' car- 
 riage returned after depositing its unconscious freight 
 at that country house on the westward pike, the foot- 
 man should be sent over with the latest news of the 
 venture ; but four o'clock in the morning had come and 
 still, behind darkened windows, they sat and planned 
 and waited and wondered and no word reached them. 
 In answer to notes sent out to certain of the colony 
 it was promised that by daybreak there would be one 
 or two others to join the conference, but the gray of 
 dawn was draping the eastern sky, and a pallid light 
 creeping up the deserted avenue, and not a soul from 
 without had come to aid. Harold Wallis, pale and 
 silent, was pacing slowly up and down the hall, his 
 head bowed in deep, painful thought. Eugene, ap- 
 parently the least concerned in the entire establishment, 
 had fallen asleep over the papers and his fifth cigar 
 on a sofa in the library. There was excuse, perhaps, for 
 his fatigue Miss Brenham and Granger had been 
 plying him for hours with questions about friends in 
 
282 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 the unattainable South. Mrs. de Ruyter, too, had 
 sought her pillow, as had also a certain few of the house- 
 hold, but down on the parlor floor Lorna Brenham 
 flitted from window to window of the darkened rooms, 
 and Granger followed like a shadow. Peering through 
 the blinds, she could see that other shadows, one at least, 
 hovered ever within view, keeping watch for Wallis's 
 reappearance, noting all that took place about the prem- 
 ises, and just as the bells of a neighboring steeple were 
 clanging out the hour of six, there came a ringing at 
 the area bell, and Lorna, ordering all others to remain 
 where they were, ran down to the kitchen ; found at 
 the back door a servant from a certain family close at 
 hand, note bearing. Two minutes later she came tear- 
 ing up the stairs, joy flashing in her eyes, delight and 
 triumph ringing in her words : 
 
 "O, Glory! glory! glory!" she cried. "Jeb Stuart 
 is north of the Potomac with his whole brigade and 
 striking for Baltimore. Now have Eugene ready!" 
 
 And this was hours before the War Department 
 began to hear what had been going on at Hansons'. 
 
 Early that afternoon, afar out beyond the Relay 
 House, where, in those days the tracks of the Baltimore 
 & Ohio parted company the westward bearing away 
 for the Monocacy Valley and for Point of Rocks, the 
 other southward for Washington a stout farm buggy 
 behind two mettlesome bays was spinning over the 
 pike, "tooled" by a tall man enveloped in a linen duster, 
 close buttoned about the throat. He wore an old felt 
 hat, pulled well down over his spectacled eyes, a 
 
A RUINED CAREER. 283 
 
 farmer's full beard and heavy gloves of buckskin. Be- 
 side him sat a womanly form in sun bonnet and shawl. 
 A linen lap robe was tucked in about the seat. The 
 buggy top was hoisted, although the day was fair. 
 Jugs, baskets and boxes, all apparently well filled and 
 indicative of a day's purchasing in town, were stowed 
 about the "rig," and the guard at the toll gate had but 
 carelessly examined the pass of the provost marshal in 
 favor of Mr. John Borie, of Westminster, who had 
 business at Ellicott's Mills and points in Howard and 
 Carroll counties. The mills were passed. The last of 
 the chain of outposts of the Baltimore garrison was now 
 left behind; and, at the first northward bearing road, 
 the buggy turned from the pike and sped away in the 
 new direction. There was apparent need of haste, for 
 foam was flying from the bits and flecking the glossy 
 flanks of the team when next they were noted, toward 
 6 P. M., by two officers riding in on the Liberty Road. 
 One of these latter held up a hand in signal to the driver 
 to stop, and with much apparent effort the mandate was 
 obeyed, but not until the horsemen had been passed, 
 so that these latter had to whirl about and follow, and 
 were miffed at having to do so. "You seem in a devil 
 of a hurry, friend," said the senior of the two. "I 
 signalled when you were half a dozen rods away. Are 
 you just out from town?" 
 
 "Just out," was the short answer. 
 
 "See anything of an officer on horseback, head done 
 up in bandages, riding like he'd been sick?" was the 
 next question, in the vernacular of the camp. 
 
284 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 "No !" But between slouch hat and sun bonnet sud- 
 den glance was exchanged. 
 
 "You're acquainted hereabouts, I suppose," said the 
 officer. "We stopped to water at the Courtnay place 
 back yonder, and they're in a funk about this officer. 
 He was brought there during the night, thrown from 
 his horse, head cut open and leg hurt; seemed half 
 crazy to-day and broke out an hour ago ; nabbed a horse 
 without sign of a saddle and galloped off, Indian 
 fashion, with the halter shank through the horse's 
 mouth. Why he must have passed you unless 
 Hullo, here comes a patrol !" 
 
 The tall Mr. Borie leaned forward and looked back 
 around the edge of the buggy top. Behind them, Balti- 
 more way, a cloud of dust was sailing over the pike, a 
 squad of blue jackets coming swiftly on at a trot. The 
 mettlesome team began to prance. 
 
 "Hullo, too !" cried the younger officer. "Here comes 
 your crazy man !" 
 
 Both officers, both occupants of the buggy, at the 
 instant turned and stared into a little lane entering the 
 pike from the northward side. Some farm buildings 
 a hundred yards distant accounted for the lane, but not 
 for the stranger in Union uniform, with bandaged head, 
 who came urging a reluctant horse to shambling gallop. 
 
 "That's all you need of us, I presume," said the man 
 in the duster, gathering whip and reins and starting 
 his team. But already the patrol was within hailing 
 distance and somebody shouting. "Hold on !" "Halt !''* 
 cried the officer. "These fellows want you!" Then 
 
A RUINED CAREER. 285 
 
 quickly he spurred his agile mount in front of the bays, 
 for the whip was uplifted. Almost at the same instant 
 the lieutenant, commanding the little troop of horse, 
 and the strange rider issuing from the lane, reached 
 the side of the buggy, and without an instant's hesita- 
 tion, the subaltern began excitement evident in every 
 tone and glance : 
 
 "Colonel Hoyt, I am sure. We are looking for you, 
 sir. One moment, please! Sergeant," he called, and 
 up rode a sinewy trooper, with a brace of comrades 
 at his heels. Just a backward nod of the head was the 
 officer's sign, and, without a word, the trio ranged 
 themselves about the crippled colonel. Then their 
 young commander turned on the occupants of the 
 buggy. "Which way, sir? and where are you 
 from?" 
 
 For answer the man in the duster began fumbling 
 at his vest pocket. The heavy glove was too big for the 
 slit and caused delay. 
 
 "Where did you come onto the pike?" continued he 
 of the patrol, impatiently. "They told us at the outpost 
 that no team had gone out ! Yes your pass if you've 
 got one." 
 
 Impatient in turn now, the tall man tore off the left 
 hand glove, and then that hand whipped out a flat, 
 farmer wallet, extracted a paper and held it forth with- 
 out a word. The lieutenant took it and examined 
 hurriedly. 
 
 "John Borie, Westminster. Oh, yes, I see. You're 
 just up from Ellicott's, are you? Well, pardon my 
 
286 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 overhauling you. Orders are orders. You're all right ! 
 Go ahead !" 
 
 Then as the buggy moved on without ever waiting 
 for the paper to be replaced in the wallet, for the muffled 
 up driver had thrust it between his teeth, the young 
 officer turned on the bandaged colonel, who, swaying in 
 his seat and staring at the swiftly departing vehicle, 
 seemed deaf to the subaltern's words : 
 
 "Colonel Hoyt, I am ordered to conduct you to " 
 
 But he got no further. With feverish excitement in 
 his one visible eye, with quivering lips and trembling 
 hands, Bernard Hoyt had sat one moment as though 
 only half conscious, half awake. Then, as the buggy 
 bowled round a projecting shoulder of hill side, clapped 
 suddenly his heels to his aged charger's ribs, and with 
 wild eagerness in his tone, shouted : "Didn't you see 
 that hand? that class ring? Come on, quick!" and, 
 before they could fathom his motive, darted away in 
 pursuit. 
 
 Only a few rods only a short hundred yards or so 
 around the bend ; then, shouting, protesting, frantically 
 resisting, Bernard Hoyt was overtaken and almost torn 
 from his affrighted horse, and borne raging to the road- 
 side, while into the darkness of the gathering night the 
 Maryland team drove swiftly away, bearing Harold 
 Wallis and his ruined fortunes and his brother with 
 him. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN AT LAST. 
 
 A SOLDIER of the Union lay critically ill in hos- 
 pital at Baltimore. Mental wear and tear, ex- 
 citement, exposure, the reopening of a bad gunshot 
 wound and vain struggling against fate, foes and, 
 possibly, friends had been too much for Bernard 
 Hoyt. The cavalry escort that brought him safely 
 in that October evening, expectant of praise for duty 
 well done, found no one in mood for anything but 
 expletives. A perfect whirlwind of action was on 
 at headquarters. Nobody had time to listen to any- 
 body with so small a matter as a delirious colonel 
 to tell about. Stuart Jeb Stuart was all the cry. 
 Stuart, with a brigade, a division, a whole corps of 
 cavalry at his back, was coming full tilt for Federal 
 Hill, said rumor. Stuart had looted Chambersburg ; 
 tricked Pleasanton; turned the army of McClellan; 
 rounded the Blue Ridge, and, dodging or driving every 
 command that dare oppose him, gathering fresh horses, 
 supplies, provisions, prominent citizens and powerful 
 headway with every hour, was now bearing down on 
 Baltimore to sack the city, release all rebel prisoners 
 and round up federal officials far and wide. Hoyt's 
 bewildered captors, without opportunity to report or 
 
 287 
 
288 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 tell their tale, were bidden to ride to the right about, to 
 go at the gallop and join other cavalry, hardly less be- 
 wildered, to help to head off Stuart somewhere out to- 
 ward the Monocacy ; and, while Southern sympathizers 
 by the thousand spent the night in delirious hope and 
 rejoicing, and Union men and women watched with 
 grave anxiety, and soldiers of all grades kept vigilant 
 guard, there was none to think for the fevered patient 
 at the provost marshal's office until, toward morning, 
 somebody with a head on his shoulders and a heart in 
 his breast, gave ear to his hitherto disregarded ravings, 
 and had him borne off to a hospital and to bed. 
 
 Not until it was known by noon the following day 
 that, so far from coming east, Jeb Stuart was heading 
 for the Potomac, did officials at Baltimore begin to 
 breathe "easily. Not until nightfall that day was there 
 inquiry from Washington as to what had been done to- 
 ward capturing the three culprits supposed to be de- 
 serting to the enemy. Not until near midnight was the 
 War Department informed in reply that Colonel Hoyt 
 was safely lodged in hospital, incapable of escape, and 
 that, if credence could be placed in his semi-delirious 
 statements, the brothers Wallis had been reunited in 
 Baltimore that the missing Barclay was no other than 
 Eugene Wallis, and that in disguise the pair had suc- 
 cessfully passed the guards and taken the road to 
 Frederick. Cavalry had been sent in pursuit, and orders 
 telegraphed to arrest them wherever found. 
 
 But, "when found," the finders made no move to ar- 
 rest them. It was all the finders could do to get out 
 
A GENTLEMAN AT LAST. 289 
 
 of the way of the plumed gallants of Stuart, who were 
 riding jubilantly southward toward Edward's Ferry, 
 after nabbing a local train on the Baltimore & Ohio, 
 among whose passengers were a Mr. Borie, of West- 
 minster and Mr. Borie's younger brother. The shawl 
 and sun bonnet had been left with the blown team and 
 dust-covered buggy at Sykesville, where no Federal 
 bayonets opposed the boarding of the belated local. 
 Stuart spurred confidently onward through the night, 
 and then, when a big force of blue coats was thrown 
 across his presumable path to block his passage on the 
 following day, and "get him," as Stanton would have 
 it "dead or alive/' the gray skirmishers swept forward 
 in far-spreading line, as though feeling the way to at- 
 tack the solid ranks of waiting infantry, and behind 
 this dusty veil the gay cavalier turned short to the west ; 
 swooped down on the canal and the river itself above 
 the sharp elbow near Ball's Bluff, the scene of our sad 
 humiliation barely a year before, and, covered by Pel- 
 ham's saucy guns, skillfully forded his whole force back 
 to the sacred soil, bearing with him, looking for the last 
 time on loyal ground, Harold Wallis, with his brother 
 and his broken fortunes, faithful to a father's last ap- 
 peal, yet false to the flag for which the father died. 
 
 What the Army of the Potomac thought and said of 
 this daring exploit of Stuart's, and of the failure to 
 profit by so apparently reckless a flaunt in their face, 
 boots nothing now. What Stanton did was fume, and 
 what he said was fury. That with less than two thou- 
 sand horsemen the Southern leader should presume* to 
 
290 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 ride again into Maryland ; pass between the picket posts 
 to the right of McClellan's host; push away up into 
 Pennsylvania, having circled the main army; and then 
 trot back through the thick of the divisions east of the 
 Monocacy, was something sublimely impudent in itself; 
 but, that he should dare to whisk away with him "as 
 hostages" staid and substantial citizens, and burden his 
 swift-moving column with all manner of booty, ravished 
 from the lap of Maryland and Southern Pennsylvania, 
 was a thing so amazing, so exasperating that there is 
 little wonder the Iron Secretary wanted to know if 
 nothing but wooden heads and wooden horses could be 
 found in our cavalry. Then he turned to discipline 
 the leaders at fault, and to investigate various circum- 
 stances connected with the raid. Among the foremost 
 to receive his vehement attention was the escape of the 
 brothers Wallis, and the presumable complicity of Ber- 
 nard Hoyt, now not only delirious in hospital but doubly 
 in arrest. 
 
 "But soon he reined his fury's pace" 
 
 There came legislators from his own and other neigh- 
 boring States, and reports from the surgeons in attend- 
 ance, and finally letters through the lines that indeed 
 gave him pause. The story of the remarkable exploit 
 of the younger Wallis ; the reunion of the brothers in 
 Baltimore; the meeting with Hoyt and attempted 
 seizure at Judge Hanson's ; the speedy and sudden flight 
 of the brothers in disguise and their rescue on the verge 
 
A GENTLEMAN AT LAST. 291 
 
 of recapture ; the arrest of Colonel Hoyt at the moment 
 he was striving to overhaul the fugitives, and now his 
 pitiable plight, all this was for three or four days 
 overshadowed by the details of Stuart's startling feat. 
 Then, little by little, it began to take hold in the columns 
 of the press and then to spread like wildfire. 
 
 It boded ill for many a Southern sympathizer in Balti- 
 more when it became known that at Judge Hanson's 
 residence Colonel Hoyt had met with serious injury; 
 that from Judge Hanson's residence, in Judge Hanson's 
 carriage, he had been sent by night to the Courtnay farm 
 far out on the old Liberty Road, and there held until the 
 following evening when he made his escape. The order 
 placing the Hanson homestead under surveillance and 
 sending the lately honored and revered owner to Fort 
 Lafayette was suspended, so far as the judge was per- 
 sonally concerned, because of symptoms of physical 
 breakdown. Strong Union men, old friends and neigh- 
 bors, went to Washington and pleaded forcibly for him, 
 telling Stanton what Stanton did not know before, how 
 ignorant Hanson had been of the coming of Colonel 
 Hoyt, much less of the coming of Eugene Wallis, and 
 further they could say, and say truthfully, that Hanson 
 was appalled and prostrated by such accumulation of 
 calamities, and that, more than any man living, prob- 
 ably, he deplored the injuries and illness that had be- 
 fallen the gallant soldier who had suffered within his 
 gates. In strenuous language, too, these gentlemen pro- 
 claimed Hoyt's utter innocence of the disloyalty with 
 which the irate Secretary had charged him, and the 
 
2 9 2 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 grievous wrong done to him, if not to Hanson, by the 
 order of arrest. 
 
 And so, before consciousness returned to the prostrate 
 colonel, that arrest was revoked, the order for the re- 
 moval of Judge Hanson to Lafayette suspended, and 
 the guard about the latter's premises measurably re- 
 duced. There were enough of them there, however, 
 to restrain and to question when late one sunshiny 
 October afternoon a carriage was driven to the curb, 
 and a young lady, with fair patrician features, very 
 pale, was assisted to alight by a tall young soldier in 
 the dress of a subaltern of cavalry. The latter showed 
 a slip of paper to the official on duty, and they were 
 passed on into the house, and the presence of the incar- 
 cerated master. 
 
 He was lying on the couch in the parlor the same 
 Colonial sofa whose sharp corner had so nearly split 
 the skull of our cavalry colonel, and with him, reading 
 aloud from certain letters, sat his devoted daughter. 
 With her, pallid, sorrowing and actually subdued in 
 manner if not in spirit, was our Georgia beauty, Lorna 
 Brenham. All three started at the old butler's an- 
 nouncement : 
 
 "Miss Rutherford, suh, and Mr. Gerald Ruther- 
 ford." 
 
 Mr. Hanson strove to rise, his old-fashioned cav- 
 alier courtesy demanding this homage to women of 
 every age. Miss Hanson started to her feet, the color 
 coming and going in her delicate face. Lorna Bren- 
 ham sat one moment speechless, then slowly turned 
 
A GENTLEMAN AT LAST. 393 
 
 toward the curtained archway, and, as Miss Ruther- 
 ford entered, arose and faced her, pallid, silent, with 
 a world of question and uncertainty in her deep and 
 glorious eyes. Daring, commanding as she had been 
 in the moment of peril when instant action was needed, 
 she stood now, conscious of the havoc that had been 
 wrought through her leadership, if not actually at her 
 demand. One soldier ruined; another assaulted, ac- 
 cused and well-nigh crushed by his successive wrongs ; 
 an old and honored citizen brought to humiliation if 
 not to the cells; and now, with Bernard Hoyt lying 
 at the door of death, here stood the girl he loved and 
 sought to wed, with accusation and with challenge in 
 her unflinching gaze. Ethel had not known of Lorna's 
 presence, yet was not unprepared. She wished to see 
 her. She had that to say which was better spoken 
 and done with than left to sear and smoulder until, 
 like flame., it crusted the surface of her heart against 
 all appeal of contrition, against all hope of pardon. 
 
 It was Miss Hanson's duty first to greet, and, as 
 best she could, to welcome these unbidden guests ; but, 
 just within the threshold, Ethel had stopped short and 
 stood looking straight at Lorna Brenham. It was the 
 visitor who was first to speak: 
 
 "I came to seek Judge Hanson " and for just a 
 
 moment her eyes turned to the sofa. "Please do not 
 try to rise, sir. It is but a message a commission 
 from my mother who is too feeble to come herself." 
 Then again she faced the Southern girl, and the eyes 
 that were so softly blue a year ago, blazed with no 
 
294 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 uncertain fire in that shadowy room. "Lorna Bren- 
 ham, do you know that Colonel Hoyt is dying? Do 
 you realize that it is your doing?" 
 
 From Miss Hanson's lips there came a gasp of dread 
 and dismay. From the sofa Mr. Hanson's voice was 
 uplifted, with his trembling white hand, half in pro- 
 test, half in distress, but only a word or two was said. 
 Ethel was listening to none of these. She had eyes, 
 ears only for Lorna Brenham, and presently, with 
 slow, stately movement Lorna advanced. Grief and 
 trial had given added dignity to her queenly bearing. 
 There was no shrinking, no evasion. She would have 
 faced, as her kinsmen were facing, the shining steel 
 without a tremor, but the woman in her saw another 
 woman's suffering, and it was that that sent the sob 
 into her answering words. 
 
 "It is my doing, Ethel, if what you say is true, yet 
 I pray he may live. He would have hung Eugene 
 Wallis for a spy, and it was to save Eugene we I 
 sought to hold Colonel Hoyt, not to harm him. What 
 happened was all unpremeditated, but I take the 
 blame. Were it all to come to me again as I saw it 
 then, unseeing what would follow, I should do it all 
 again. Tell me, if it were not to arrest Eugene Wallis 
 why did Bernard Hoyt come here?" 
 
 "To redeem his promise to my mother, to ask par- 
 don of Harold Wallis in the presence of his counsel 
 and best friend for the wrong that he had done him. 
 Colonel Hoyt believed and had been allowed to be- 
 lieve that Major Wallis stole yes, stole certain 
 
A GENTLEMAN AT LAST. 295 
 
 letters from mother's desk this and other things 
 and only recently at Long Branch did he learn how 
 deeply we were indebted to Major Wallis. He never 
 dreamed Eugene was in Baltimore; but, having found 
 him here, what else could he do?" 
 
 "He has told you this?" demanded Lorna, her dark 
 eyes glittering, her slender fingers clutching at the back 
 of the nearest chair. "He has told you he came here 
 to make amende to Major Wallis?" 
 
 "This and more. He was conscious when we reached 
 him yesterday, but they will not let me see him now," 
 and here the soft lips quivered uncontrollably, but, 
 proudly as Lorna's her head was raised, and she turned 
 to the Judge, now half supported by his daughter's 
 circling arm. "It was to you, sir, on mother's account 
 I came may I present my brother, Lieutenant Ruther- 
 ford? Major Wallis wrote that he had left certain 
 papers with you. She is very ill, I fear. She is cer- 
 tainly very feeble, too feeble to leave her room at the 
 hotel, but if these are what she hopes to see, it may 
 mean new life to her." 
 
 Hanson had been vainly seeking, without interrupt- 
 ing, to induce her to sit. Gerald, seeing his disquiet, 
 came forward with a chair, but Ethel motioned him 
 away, and Hanson resignedly bowed his head. Evi- 
 dently she preferred to stand. 
 
 "Poor Wallis had time to write only three or four 
 letters," was the grave answer, "and none to talk fur- 
 ther to me. I would give you everything he left with 
 me gladly, dear young lady, but all my papers, you 
 
296 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 know, are seized now. It is to the Secretary of War 
 your mother must appeal." 
 
 "Then mother cannot see then now at once?" 
 she cried. "I cannot tell how much it means to her. 
 Indeed I do not know how much it may mean. There 
 is something behind all this trouble I have never fath- 
 omed, something Major Wallis knew and was striv- 
 ing to straighten for her, something concerning my 
 brother who died in Georgia. Lorna Brenham" 
 and again she whirled suddenly on the friend of 
 bygone days, now so sadly alienated "you are a 
 Georgian. You knew Hugh Preston. You must have 
 heard stories of all that led up to that cruel insult and 
 to the meeting that followed. You knew Major Forno, 
 too, and what brought him to New York after his 
 state had seceded. What had he to do with my 
 brother ? What was he to Hugh Preston ? What had 
 my brother done to make gentlemen his enemies?" 
 
 There was silence for a moment, then came the sim- 
 ple answer. "I cannot tell you, Ethel." 
 
 "But you know?" 
 
 "Concerning Ralph I know almost nothing. They 
 would never speak of it at home. Major Forno would 
 never speak of it to me. The only man who professed 
 to know and showed a disposition to tell was Eugene 
 and Harold Wallis nearly shook the life out of him 
 when he heard of it. Ethel, you mourn your brother. 
 You would have done everything to keep his name un- 
 sullied to save him from disgrace or harm. Can you 
 not feel for Harold Wallis to whom Eugene had been 
 
A GENTLEMAN AT LAST. 297 
 
 left almost as a sacred charge? Think what ruin that 
 reckless boy has brought to all who knew him!" 
 
 With new distress in her face, Ethel Rutherford 
 half turned as though appealing to her brother, and 
 Gerald then came slowly forward. 
 
 "My brother has but just arrived from Harper's 
 Ferry," she faltered. "Tell them, Gerald I cannot." 
 
 And in the gathering dusk the young soldier spoke, 
 solemnly sadly. 
 
 "Harold Wallis sacrificed everything for nothing," 
 said he. "Eugene was killed in front of my regiment 
 yesterday morning. At least he died like a gentle- 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE WEB UNTANGLED. 
 
 NEWPORT, Saratoga, the Catskills, Long Branch 
 and Cape May the resorts of society in the 
 early sixties were all deserted now. Fifth Avenue 
 once more showed its colors and was gay with feminine 
 garb and alive with bunting. Houses that had been 
 shut all summer following the fashion, even though 
 their occupants slept behind the sombre fronts and saw 
 the light of day through dusty blinds had again flung 
 their curtains to the breeze and made brave show of 
 "just reopening for the season." The church of the 
 elect threw wide its gothic doors, and the massive form 
 of the omnipotent Brown once more led, or blocked, 
 the way to the aisles of grace. The old familiar faces, 
 the reverently bowed heads of the first families had 
 reappeared in many of the old pews. The gray haired 
 rector resumed the old-time soporifics the quartette 
 choir the stirring music that had so scandalized the 
 "ower gude" of other congregations, and semi-occa- 
 sionally rejoiced its own. There was as little of the 
 odor of sanctity as of eau de Cologne about the flock 
 of Grace. They used their piety as they did their per- 
 fume, in homeopathic doses. But lambs of the fold, 
 the feminine at least, were out in force and taking 
 
 298 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 299 
 
 note of all absentees this brisk and beautiful Sunday 
 morning of mid autumn. And of all the pews that 
 bordered that carpeted via Crucis the center aisle 
 one, and only one was empty. Though stranger guests 
 were many and sanctuaries few, and church going as 
 firmly fixed a habit then as church evasion now, no 
 alien foot indented the soft hassocks of the Ruther- 
 ford family pew, for the sexton had set his seal against 
 intrusion and a knot of crape upon the bolted door. 
 
 Perilous as had been the illness of Colonel Hoyt, 
 it yielded to youth and vigorous constitution rather 
 than to medical treatment, for the methods of that day 
 and generation are scored as barbarous now. Slight 
 as seemed at first the malady of the aging and grieving 
 mother, it gained in omen as she lost in hope and 
 strength. And Ethel, who, with Gerald, had spent 
 hours a day for an entire week at the side of the 
 fevered soldier, was speedily called to give all time 
 to her whose days were evidently numbered. As Ber- 
 nard Hoyt began to mend and to recognize those about 
 him, the fragile woman began to break, to wander in 
 mind, to see in Gerald the son she had earlier lost and 
 to say things at sound of which Hortense sought vainly 
 to drive Ethel from the sick room. Hoyt, days before, 
 had been given a bright airy hospital tent to himself 
 and his attendants. Mrs. Rutherford had been re- 
 moved from the hotel to Beverly Hanson's ; he would 
 listen to nothing less; and there, within the fortnight 
 of her coming to Baltimore, partly in search of the 
 missing link in the evidence she craved, partly in hopes 
 
300 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 of seeing and speaking again with Hoyt, the spirit of 
 the suffering woman flitted away perhaps in hopeful 
 quest of that spirit which had gone before, and brother 
 and sister stood orphaned at the bedside, looking into 
 each other's eyes through swimming tears, dismayed 
 at the story revealed to them with almost the last flut- 
 ter of the mother's feeble breath. 
 
 Then, when there was sent a summons a stern and 
 imperative summons for Hortense, the Frenchwoman 
 had vanished. Then, when again Ethel Rutherford 
 longed to hear the voice of her knight and hero, he, 
 too, had gone. The army had swept onward at last 
 in pursuit of Lee, and, though weak and worn, Ber- 
 nard Hoyt seemed crazed with eagerness to be again 
 in saddle with his men, and the doctors let him go. 
 Ethel never knew until long days later of his coming 
 to the house during the last hours of the mother's life, 
 or, for long weeks, that Hortense had stopped his card, 
 and sent by the butler the message that, owing to Mrs. 
 Rutherford's condition, both sister and brother begged 
 to be excused. Had they denied themselves to all the 
 rest of the world, they would have seen him ! Sorrow- 
 ing, but uncomplaining, he went on to Washington 
 and thence to Warrenton in time to share in the heart- 
 break that seemed to seize the army when McClellan 
 was relieved. That was mid November, and by that 
 time all that was mortal of Cornelia Rutherford lay 
 beneath a fresh-heaped mound in Greenwood. It was 
 December before Gerald could rejoin the regiment, and 
 then all was fierce activity at the front. Under its 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 301 
 
 new, untried, but loyal commander the army was just 
 beginning the desperate assault upon the old, oft-tried 
 foe, now lining the walled heights of Fredericksburg. 
 Never again until after months of sharp campaigning 
 and finally furious battle, was Bernard Hoyt permitted 
 to see the face of the girl he loved. Then it was in 
 late July. Gettysburg had brought him new laurels 
 and a star that even Stanton swore was nobly won. 
 Now he was to command a brigade, but first there 
 was "urgent private business" to be attended to, and 
 only seven days' leave could be accorded. 
 
 Late in May there had come to him, as they were 
 watching the fords of the Rapidan, a sealed packet 
 under cover of a foreign legation in Washington. It 
 bore the marks of travel. It was read with vivid, 
 almost painful, interest, and pondered over long before 
 he summoned his former adjutant, now a zealous 
 young squadron leader, and gave it into his keeping. 
 "It would have lifted a load from your poor mother's 
 heart," he said. "It must be carefully guarded now." 
 Gerald, having read and re-read it, sent it by trusty 
 hand to his mother's closest friend and counselor, Dr. 
 Tracy, one of the executors of the mother's will. Later 
 and about the time they got the news of Gettysburg, 
 it had been shown to Ethel, then sojourning with the 
 doctor's household at Long Branch. The long letter 
 therein read as follows : 
 
 "PARIS, March ^ist, 1863. 
 
 "Mv DEAR SIR: Months have elapsed since the re- 
 ceipt of your letter dated Warrenton, November 2Oth, 
 
302 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 1862 as noble a letter as was ever penned. I strove 
 to tell you at the time how deeply it touched me, but, 
 like all my efforts, that, too, was probably vain. I did 
 tell you, however, that there seemed at least a likeli- 
 hood of my unearthing the whole truth concerning 
 Ralph Rutherford's sad fate. I had hoped through 
 other means to do this long ago. I had promised that 
 sorrowing woman, his mother, as much; and there 
 was a time when I hoped that there might come as 
 my reward that which would have a thousand times 
 repaid me for what I had lost personally and pro- 
 fessionally before my arrest and trial in August last. 
 Only a soldier like yourself can know what it is to 
 be deemed dishonored and disloyal and yet be unable 
 to explain. All those old hopes, with all the old 
 ambitions and aspirations, are now dead,, and all too 
 late to be a blessing to her or benefit to me, the truth 
 is brought to light. You found wherein you had 
 wronged me, and nobly sought to make amende. I 
 found wherein, unknowing, I had wronged you, and 
 to you, therefore, I give these facts in their entirety. 
 They could never have won for me what was already 
 another's. But, knowing you as I now know you, a 
 knightly and chivalrous foe, I place them in your hands 
 that, when my 'treason' is the subject of talk, there 
 may be one friend to say how loyally I labored even 
 in my disloyalty. 
 
 "The winter before we went to^Utah I was Hugh 
 Preston's guest in New Orleans. He was a dashing 
 fellow, as you have heard, well born, well connected, 
 well educated, but poor, and, when forty years of age, 
 he fell madly in love with a young girl just out of 
 her school days at the Ursulines. Prior to that time, 
 as the devil would have it, Hugh had been devoting 
 himself to her mother. Fancy how that fair lady 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 303 
 
 liked it when she saw her supposed devotee actually 
 smitten with her lovely, unsophisticated child. It 
 afforded me keen amusement at the time, but, God 
 knows, it was short enough. The girl was an angel; 
 the mother a devil, in my opinion; and, when I was 
 ordered off to overtake the expedition, I so far de- 
 parted from my rule as to venture to warn a man 
 against a woman. 
 
 "The next thing I heard of that affair was long 
 afterward. You remember how we were snowed in 
 on the Bridger trail and how new the world seemed 
 when we got out in the spring. Hugh Preston had 
 left New Orleans, a sadder, wiser man. The girl had 
 fallen in love with a wealthy young New Yorker who 
 had become devoted to her even before I left Ralph 
 Rutherford, in fact. A few months later came the 
 tidings that Hugh Preston had wantonly insulted that 
 young Northerner in the Oglethorpe Club at Savannah 
 and shot him dead in the duel that followed. 
 
 "Now, Hugh Preston was not the man to wantonly 
 insult anybody, North or South ; and, sure as his shoot- 
 ing, I saw there was some woman back of it all. The 
 more sure was I because Preston would give, and the 
 Club could find, no extenuation for his conduct, and 
 shouldered him out of Savannah. Women cause more 
 shooting than ever did politics, even in 1860. Preston 
 went abroad, took a flyer with the Chasseurs a Cheval 
 in Algeria, and I found his trail and brought him 
 back in the spring of '61, for by that time I had seen 
 the Rutherford family and had heard the New York 
 version of the matter. As Albert Forno he joined me 
 and told me his story, and sobbed like a child when 
 he spoke of that poor girl. There was no doubt he 
 loved her with all his soul ; but, with the mother and 
 his years both against him at the start, and then this 
 
304 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 rich and handsome young Northerner, what chance 
 had he? Leonore Brunei loved Ralph Rutherford, 
 and that ended it or would have ended it but for 
 that fiend of a mother. Long months after leaving 
 New Orleans, Preston was in Savannah, when who 
 should appear there but Rutherford. Preston avoided 
 the club, thinking Rutherford would soon leave, return 
 to New Orleans and to her. Then came a letter from 
 Adrienne, the mother a fury of a letter telling him 
 that the girl he so passionately loved had been duped, 
 betrayed, deserted; and they were going away, any- 
 where to hide their shame. That night, in his fury, 
 Preston purposely sought Rutherford at the Ogle- 
 thorpe where Ralph was playing high. No woman 
 was named. Preston simply accused Ralph of cheat- 
 ing and flung cards and counters into his face. Gor- 
 don, Ralph's friend and kinsman, was away. Seabrook 
 was over -from Moultrie on a visit. He bore Ralph's 
 message to Preston, and sent the poor boy's last letter 
 to his mother. They met at Thunderbolt as soon as 
 it was light enough to see, and one shot settled it. 
 
 "Hugh Preston went into exile, believing he had 
 killed the man who ruined the girl he loved, and in 
 that conviction he remained until after his second visit 
 to New York in '61. 
 
 "Meantime, through young Barclay, I heard stories 
 of Mrs. Rutherford's being in a very nervous state 
 receiving letters that gave her dreadful seizures, and 
 Barclay told me in so many words that he had once 
 heard Hortense threatening her. Also that there was 
 something about Forbes, the butler, that would bear 
 watching. Barclay and I fell out not long after that, 
 but the moment I set eyes on Forbes I knew I had 
 seen him before at the spring meeting of the Metairie 
 Jockey Club, attending his young master, who was 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 305 
 
 even then showing marked attention to Leonore. 
 People I knew in New Orleans had looked queer at 
 sight of the two women, the mother and daughter, 
 driving with young Rutherford, but little had been 
 said. 
 
 "Ralph was then only twenty, but old for his years, 
 as you know, for he had been much indulged, had trav- 
 eled a great deal, had been abroad with a tutor, etc. 
 Now he saw his heart's desire and could not have it. 
 By his father's will he was still dependent on his 
 mother, and by her will he could never marry a Roman 
 Catholic. Even the rector of Grace admitted that Mrs. 
 Rutherford was bigoted on that score. You know, Dr. 
 Tracy knew, and Ralph knew, that if he married with- 
 out his mother's consent before he became of age he 
 was cut off without a shilling, but Hugh Preston knew 
 nothing of this. I had seen enough of Leonore and 
 heard enough of Ralph to believe in them both, and 
 came to quick solution of the question that there had 
 been a secret marriage a secret to be kept until, being 
 of age, he could win his mother over to receiving 
 Leonore, but before that ever became possible came 
 the duel and his death; followed in a few months, as 
 we were assured, by that of Leonore. Then it was, 
 as I conceived, that that infernal she cat began black- 
 mailing the poor mother, that Forbes and Hortense 
 were in league with her against their own mistress; 
 and then the disappearance of those letters from Miss 
 Rutherford's reticule that Sunday morning added to 
 my suspicions. Proud, sensitive, devoted to her son, 
 it would have bowed her head in shame to the grave 
 to have had her beloved boy shown to the world as 
 one who deserved the death that had been dealt him. 
 
 "Then I succeeded in seeing her and telling her my 
 theory, and that I believed it possible, with the letters 
 
306 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 in her possession, and what I could learn through 
 friends in the South, to destroy the evil story Adri- 
 enne Brunei stood ready to swear to. It was exactly 
 as I supposed. Then 'Forno' came back at my de- 
 mand to see the letters she had kept locked in her 
 escritoire, and that night, when I called on her, we 
 searched in vain. Already they had been abstracted 
 Forbes or Hortense, of course, and she, poor woman, 
 dare not let the facts be known because she feared 
 some public esclandre started by that 'mother dam- 
 nable' Brunei. 
 
 "You recall that then I was hurried off to Wash- 
 ington. You have heard that there I was in corre- 
 spondence with Southerners. I was. An awful com- 
 plication had arisen. The letters sent by Ralph to his 
 mother were the love letters of an innocent girl whom 
 he devotedly loved, and later succeeded in making his 
 wife. He hoped that, if he survived the duel, their 
 grace and charm and innocence would so appeal to the 
 mother that he could then win her consent to the mar- 
 riage, despite the difference in faith ; but even then, 
 hoping to survive, for he was no novice with the pis- 
 tol, he dare not tell her the marriage had actually taken 
 place. And, worst luck of all, thanks to a childish 
 quarrel, the boy and girl had parted in pique and 
 anger; each was waiting for the other to write for 
 forgiveness, and, even at the moment when he faced 
 the vengeance of Preston's aim, the poor lad did not 
 know why he should have told his mother all. He 
 died in ignorance of Leonore's condition. 
 
 " ( O, what a tangled zveb we weave 
 When first we practice to deceive!' 
 
 "We could not find out what had become of her. 
 Preston did his utmost to track the mother through 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 307 
 
 the South, even at the time Georgia was claiming his 
 sword, and failed. When he turned up in Washing- 
 ton, to my great detriment, it was to say she was some- 
 where North, and later we found this true. She was 
 there, blackmailing and threatening. She had a back 
 room in Twelfth Street that commanded yours in 
 Eleventh, and, as we heard long afterward, that black- 
 guard Forbes used to signal to her from the Ruther- 
 fords' conservatory. The horrible whip she held over 
 Mrs. Rutherford's head was the threat to tell the world 
 her daughter had died in childbirth, the victim of Ralph 
 Rutherford's perfidy. And I knew that she knew they 
 were legally wed. I knew she probably had all the 
 papers to prove it. I doubted Leonore's death, and 
 yet could not prove a thing. The world would say 
 Adrienne could have got all she wanted by simply 
 proving the marriage, but Ralph had doubtless told 
 her of the will and his dependence, and, as she was 
 low and crafty, her argument was that, as the law 
 justified Mrs. Rutherford in refusing to provide, it 
 never occurred to a woman like the Brunei that the 
 mother's heart would plead for the girl her boy so 
 worshiped. No! threat and blackmail was her game, 
 and, now that Hortense had secured the letters that 
 told how fervently Ralph's love was returned, and all 
 the papers were in the hands of the enemy, Mrs. Ruth- 
 erford was on the verge of distraction. 
 
 "But now Preston was fully aroused, and through 
 friends in New Orleans he secured and sent me a 
 packet of letters Leonore had written to a schoolmate, 
 also some statements affecting the mother. You re- 
 member the row there was about that night at Savage 
 Station. Coming as it did soon after my meeting with 
 Eugene in front of the Warwick, it nearly finished me. 
 (Eugene was serving on Magruder's staff at that 
 
308 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 time.) Through De Joinville, who knew the Brunels 
 and something of madame's history, I was able to 
 satisfy McClellan that the letters were strictly private 
 and confidential. Later I was able to place them in 
 Mrs. Rutherford's hands, to warn her further against 
 Hortense and Forbes, and to promise her that through 
 Father Gentil, in New Orleans, evidence of the mar- 
 riage should yet be found. 
 
 "At this time you stood sturdily in the way; and 
 when your testimony, probably, would have led to her 
 being summoned as witness before the court in my 
 case, it became necessary that she should tell you the 
 truth as to my connection with the disappearance of 
 the letters, etc., and she told you, doubtless, more than 
 was necessary. Then Madame Brunei bled her sav- 
 agely before again quitting New York, and our failure 
 to bring matters to a climax was sapping her strength. 
 Preston secured a few more papers which he sent by 
 that mad brother of mine, and then came the catas- 
 trophe at Baltimore. 
 
 "But meantime another ally had joined us in the 
 person of Miss Brenham. She had in abundance what 
 we had but in moderation wit, and in moderation 
 what we lacked totally money. She has given freely 
 of both. She it is, not I, who deserves the credit of 
 our final success. Through her energy, through her 
 means and maid I mustn't forget the maid Ma- 
 dame Brunei was traced to Paris. Here was found 
 that estimable dowager. Here in seclusion, yet safety, 
 dwelt Leonore and baby Ralph. (Mrs. Rutherford 
 would have loved that child.) Here we found Hor- 
 tense and Forbes, who has done me the honor to call 
 and ask for a recommendation as butler or gentleman's 
 gentleman, and herewith I send you, attested by our 
 consul, copies of all important papers, including the 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 309 
 
 marriage certificate. I would to God Mrs. Rutherford 
 might have lived to know her son was not the repro- 
 bate she feared. 
 
 "And now, Hoyt, farewell. There is one whom in 
 days to come you may teach to look upon me with 
 kindlier eyes than in the past. I was not all disloyalty. 
 There is another no, there was another for whom we 
 could have prayed forgiveness, even from Ethel and 
 her mother, but he died like a hero in front of your 
 guns at Fredericksburg: You are destined to live to 
 adorn the profession you love, and for which you are 
 so admirably fitted. I loved it, better than was deemed 
 possible, despite the fact that I neither adorned nor 
 was fitted for it. Should you ever see old Jasper at 
 the ferry, tell him he is often held in grateful remem- 
 brance by Yours, etc., etc., 
 
 "H. WALLIS." 
 
 So there it was, the long story of the misery that 
 had so wrecked the mother's life that had actually 
 unhinged her mind, and that had involved the names 
 and fortunes and fair fame of so many others. They 
 had been talking of her, Bernard Hoyt and Ethel, in 
 low, reverent tone, that soft, starlit evening the last 
 of July, beneath the low bluff in front of Howlands, 
 alone in the shabby little board summer house at the 
 foot of the stairs. She was in deep mourning, and 
 there were traces of tears about her fair face, and 
 something of appeal and anxiety in her swimming blue 
 eyes, for, though he had been there only thirty-six 
 hours, on the morrow he must return to the front. 
 He had been unusually grave and silent, even for him, 
 
3 io A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 but in his manner there was ever that same gentleness 
 and tenderness she had grown to expect of him, no 
 matter what she might have said or done, and the last 
 time they were at Long Branch together she had both 
 said and done things that might well have tried both 
 temper and tenderness, and now he would not so much 
 as allude to them. He seemed to be thinking only of 
 her mother and Ralph and Gerald, and, oh, of course, 
 in a protecting, tolerant way, of her, instead of show- 
 ing proper resentment of her unjust, petulant words. 
 Of course all that had been wiped out by her being 
 with him when he was so desperately ill at Baltimore, 
 but then, really, how very little he knew of that, and 
 it wasn't a thing for her to tell about. He was going 
 back to the front now, just so surely as that big yellow 
 moon was peeping up at the edge of the heaving deep 
 before her eyes, and who could say when she could 
 see him again or how. Possibly he thought his whole 
 duty lay with his country now. Possibly he thought 
 that she could only think of her beloved mother. He 
 was always thinking so much for others. It was high 
 time he was speaking something for himself if ever 
 he meant to. Across the glistening track of the moon- 
 light a steamer was heading southward another fol- 
 lowed another seemed but a cable's length behind. 
 
 "Transports," said he. "The Silver Spoons are on 
 one. They were sent up to quell the draft riots after 
 Gettysburg, you know. Poor Wallis! Think how 
 happy he'd be if he were only again at their head !" 
 
 She had been leaning on his arm, and had not en- 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 311 
 
 tirely withdrawn her hand. Now she looked up quickly 
 into his face. "Do you think there is no other hap- 
 piness in store for him?" 
 
 Perceptibly he winced. "I heard there was/' said 
 he, his eyes on the distant flotilla. 
 
 "Heard!" she exclaimed. "Why, it's barely two 
 months since they went over, and hardly any one 
 knows he's there." 
 
 "Since who went over?" 
 
 "Who? Why, Lorna and her aunt, of course." 
 
 "And, pardon me, but what have they to do with 
 the happiness we were speaking of?" 
 
 Both her hands clasped about his arms now and 
 turned him to her. Her face had been clouded. Now 
 it brightened with womanly sense of superiority. 
 
 "Bernard Hoyt," said she, something very like a 
 little laugh bubbling with her words, "do you know I 
 sometimes think you are dreadfully stupid. Don't 
 you know that Lorna Brenham and Major Wallis will 
 be married within a year that she will be his fortune, 
 his happiness?" 
 
 "Upon my word, I never thought of it," said he, 
 astonished. Then with manlike irrelevance: "Poor 
 Granger !" 
 
 "Poor Granger, indeed!" quoth she, casting loose 
 his arm, and glad enough to have somebody on whom 
 to vent her wrath. "Poor Granger! I've no patience 
 with men who can't fight for their colors, or stand up 
 for their convictions! Can't you see how impossible 
 it is for a girl like Lorna for any kind of a girl with 
 
312 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 a head and a heart to care for a nondescript like him ? 
 Can't you see how Wallis's sacrifices and sorrows, some 
 of them her doing, were just sure to turn her heart 
 to him? What owls some men are!" 
 
 Silently, at least, as an owl, he turned and looked 
 down into her flushing face, with a something in his 
 eyes now that, imperious and superior as she had been 
 but the moment before, caused her to droop and falter 
 before him. It was quite a moment before he spoke. 
 "The last time I heard he was to be rewarded in that 
 way it was not Lorna," he gravely said, though his 
 heart was beating hard. "Wallis at least stands up 
 for his convictions if he has asked her, too." 
 
 "I did not say he had asked her or anybody. 
 Lorna is a law unto herself, and he will be more than 
 stupid if he doesn't see she cares for him." 
 
 "Is it not possible he cares for somebody else?" 
 
 "Himself, yes, and Eugene," she answered, quickly, 
 and looking up for an instant into his eyes : "He never 
 lacked self-esteem." Then, after a moment's pause: 
 "He asked no one else to my knowledge." 
 
 "He asked for some one else, and had her mother's 
 consent," said he. 
 
 "Mother would have I mean on Ralph's account," 
 she began, impetuously. Then in wrath and confusion 
 both she faced him fairly. "Mother did not know what 
 
 she was saying she did not know " and then 
 
 came another abrupt stop. 
 
 "Know what, Ethel? It means all the world to 
 me." And now, pleading with all his deep, long-re- 
 
THE WEB UNTANGLED. 313 
 
 pressed love in his eyes, Bernard Hoyt stood bending 
 toward her, his strong hands seeking and clasping 
 hers. 
 
 "Then why ?" she began, but her cheeks were 
 
 burning and the words would not come. The distant 
 lights at sea had faded from view. The big round 
 moon, a gleaming disk, was illumining the bare line 
 of the bluff above them and the shining strand, foam 
 fringed for miles on either side, but here in the little 
 summer house was shelter and seclusion. 
 
 "Why, what?" he asked, his lips so near her white 
 forehead that she could feel the trembling of the soft 
 mustache. "I have loved you with all my heart, Ethel, 
 ever since my home coming in '61 " 
 
 "And wouldn't tell me until now/' she almost 
 
 sobbed. "You don't deserve " But further words 
 
 were lost or smothered. 
 
 Many a moon rose over the broad Atlantic before 
 again they gazed together upon those heaving billows. 
 They were journeying eastward then, the long war 
 ended Ethel and her soldier liege, Gerald and his 
 fair young bride, after a tumultuous leave-taking at 
 the Cunarder's docks, where a dozen strong service 
 and Seventh Regiment men had gathered to wish them 
 bon voyage Barclay among them to say "God 
 speed" and send greeting little looked for to another 
 wedded pair, long waiting for the coming of these 
 others to the sunny land of France, there to meet with 
 
314 A BROKEN SWORD. 
 
 fond and pitying hearts, Leonie and her little Ralph, 
 there to clasp hands with those who, despite the snare 
 of sectional strife, the web of Fate that so nearly 
 wrecked so many lives, had proved such valiant and 
 such valued friends and allies. 
 
 THE END. 
 
King, Char! 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY