Joseph A. Altsheler – The Complete Collection

Chapter 23

"It is not beyond your desert, but you have a friend to thank nevertheless," replied the Secretary of War. "A friend, too, whom no man need despise. I allude to Mr. Sefton here, one of the ablest members of the Government, one who surpasses most of us in insight and pertinacity. It is he who, because of his friendship for you and faith in you, wishes to have you chosen for an important and delicate service which may lead to promotion."

Prescott stared at this man whose words rang so hollow in his ear, but he could see no sign of guile or satire on the face of the Secretary of War. On the contrary, it bore every appearance of earnestness, and he became convinced that the appearance was just. Then he cast one swift glance at the inscrutable Mr. Sefton, who still sat in the shadow and did not move.

"I thank you for your kind words," he said to the Secretary of War, "and I shall appreciate very much the honour, of which you give me an intimation."

The great man smiled. It is pleasant to us all to confer benefits and still pleasanter to know that they are appreciated.

"It is a bit of work in the nature of secret service, Captain Prescott," he continued, "and it demands a wary eye and a discerning mind."

Prescott shuddered with repulsion. Instinctively he foresaw what was coming, and there was no task which he would not have preferred in its place. And he was expected, too, at such a moment, to look grateful.

"You will recall the episode of the spy and the abstraction of the papers from the President's office," continued the Secretary of War in orotund and complaisant tones. "It may seem to the public that we have dropped this matter, which is just what we wish the public to think, as it may lull the suspicions of the suspected. But we are more resolved than ever to secure the guilty!"

Prescott glanced again at Mr. Sefton, but he still sat in the shadow, and Prescott believed that he had not yet moved either hand or foot in the whole interview.

"To be brief, Captain Prescott," resumed the Secretary of War, "we wish you to take charge of this service which, I repeat, we consider delicate and important."

"Now?" asked Prescott.

"No, not immediately--in two or three days, perhaps; we shall notify you. We are convinced the guilty are yet in Richmond and cannot escape. It is important that we capture them, as we may unearth a nest of conspirators. I trust that you see the necessity of our action."

Prescott bowed, though he was raging inwardly, and it was in his mind to decline abruptly such a service, but second thought told him a refusal might make a bad matter worse. He would have given much, too, to see the face of Mr. Sefton--his fancy painted there a smile of irony.

As the Secretary of War seemed to have said all that he intended, Prescott turned to go, but he added a word of thanks to Mr. Sefton, whose voice he wished to hear. Mr. Sefton merely nodded, and the young Captain, as he went out, hesitated on the doorstep as if he expected to hear sardonic laughter behind him. He heard nothing.

The fierce touch of the winter outside cooled his blood, and as he walked toward his home he tried to think of a way out of the difficulty. He kept repeating to himself the words of the Secretary of War: "In two or three days we shall send for you," and from this constant repetition an idea was born in his head. "Much may be done in two or three days," he said to himself, "and if a man can do it I will!" and he said it with a sense of defiance.

His brain grew hot with the thought, and he walked about the city, not wishing yet to return to his home. He had been walking, he knew not how long, when a hand fell lightly upon his arm and, turning, he beheld the bland face of Mr. Sefton.

"May I walk a little with you, Captain Prescott?" he said. "Two heads are sometimes better than one."

Prescott was hot alike with his idea and with wrath over his recent ordeal; moreover, he hated secret and underhand parts, and spoke impulsively:

"Mr. Secretary, I have you to thank for this task, and I do not thank you at all!"

"Why not? Most young officers wish a chance for promotion."

"But you set me spying to catch a spy! There are few things in the world that I would rather not do."

"You say 'you set me spying'! My dear sir, it was the Secretary of War, not I."

"Mr. Sefton," exclaimed Prescott angrily, "why should we fence with words any longer? It is you and you alone who are at the bottom of this!"

"Since that is your theory, my dear Captain, what motive would you assign?"

Prescott was slow to wrath, but when moved at last he had little fear of consequences, and it was so with him now. He faced the Secretary and gazed at him steadily, even inquiringly. But, as usual, he read nothing in the bland, unspeaking countenance before him.

"There is a motive, an ulterior motive," he replied. "For days now you have been persecuting me and I am convinced that it is for a purpose."

"And if so ready to read an unspoken purpose in my mind, then why not read the cause of it?"

Prescott hesitated. This calm, expressionless man with the impression of power troubled him. The Secretary again put his hand lightly upon his arm.

"We are near the outskirts of the city, Captain," said Mr. Sefton, "and I suggest that we walk on toward the fortifications in order that none may overhear what we have to say. It may be that you and I shall arrive at such an understanding that we can remain friends."

There was suggestion in the Secretary's words for the first time, likewise a command, and Prescott willingly adopted his plan. Together the two strolled on through the fields.

"I have a tale to tell," began the Secretary, "and there are preliminaries and exordiums, but first of all there is a question. Frankly, Captain Prescott, what kind of a man do you think I am?"

Prescott hesitated.

"I see you do not wish to speak," continued the Secretary, "because the portrait you would paint is unflattering, but I will paint it for you--at least, the one that you have in your mind's eye. You think me sly and intriguing, eaten up by ambition, and caring for nobody in the world but myself. A true portrait, perhaps, so far as the external phases go, and the light in which I often wish to appear to the world, but not true in reality."

Prescott waited in silence to hear what the other might have to say, and whatever it was he was sure that it would be of interest.

"That I am ambitious is true," continued the Secretary; "there are few men not old who are not so, and I think it better to have ambition than to be without it. But if I have ambition I also have other qualities. I like my friends--I like you and would continue to like you, Captain Prescott, if you would let me. It is said here that I am not a true Southerner, whatever may be my birth, as my coldness, craft and foresight are not Southern characteristics. That may be true, but at least I am Southern in another character--I have strong, even violent emotions, and I love a woman. I am willing to sacrifice much for her."

The Secretary's hand was still resting lightly on Prescott's arm, and the young Captain, feeling it tremble, knew that his companion told the truth.

"Yes," resumed Mr. Sefton, "I love a woman, and with all the greater fire because I am naturally undemonstrative and self-centred. The stream comes with an increased rush when it has to break through the ice. I love a woman, I say, and I am determined to have her. You know well who it is!"

"Helen Harley," said Prescott.

"I love Helen Harley," continued the Secretary, "and there are two men of whom I am jealous, but I shall speak first of one--the one whom I have feared the longer and the more. He is a soldier, a young man commended often by his superiors for gallantry and skill--deservedly so, too--I do not seek to deny it. He is here in Richmond now, and he has known Helen Harley all his life. They were boy and girl together. But he has become mixed in an intrigue here. There is another woman----"

"Mr. Sefton! You proposed that we understand each other, and that is just what I wish, too. You have been watching me all this time."

"Watching you! Yes, I have, and to purpose!" exclaimed the Secretary. "You have done few things in Richmond that have not come to my knowledge. Again I ask you what kind of a man do you think I am? When I saw you standing in my path I resolved that no act of yours should escape me. You know of this spy, Lucia Catherwood, and you know where she is. You see, I have even her name. Once I intended to arrest her and expose you to disgrace, but she had gone. I am glad now that we did not find her. I have a better use for her uncaught, though it annoys me that I cannot yet discover where she was when we searched that house."

The cold chill which he had felt before in the presence of this man assailed Prescott again. He was wholly within his power, and metaphorically, he could be broken on the wheel if the adroit and ruthless Secretary wished it. He bit his dry lip, but said nothing, still waiting for the other.

"I repeat that I have a better use for Miss Catherwood," continued Mr. Sefton. "Do you think I should have gone to all this trouble and touched upon so many springs merely to capture one misguided girl? What harm can she do us? Do you think the result of a great war and the fate of a continent are to be decided by a pair of dark eyes?"

They were walking now along a half-made street that led into the fields. Behind them lay the city, and before them the hills and the forest, all in a robe of white. Thin columns of smoke rose from the earthworks, where the defenders hovered over the fires, but no one was near enough to hear what the two men said.

"Then why have you held your hand?" asked Prescott.

"Why?" and the Secretary actually laughed, a smooth, noiseless laugh, but a laugh nevertheless, though so full of a snaky cunning that Prescott started as if he had been bitten. "Why, because I wished you, Robert Prescott, whom I feared, to become so entangled that you would be helpless in my hands, and that you have done. If I wish I can have you dismissed from the army in disgrace--shot, perhaps, as a traitor. In any event, your future lies in the hollow of my hand. You are wholly at my mercy. I speak a word and you are ruined."

"Why not speak it?" Prescott asked calmly. His first impulse had passed, and though his tongue was dry in his mouth the old hardening resolve to fight to the last came again.

"Why not speak it? Because I do not wish to do so--at least, not yet. Why should I ruin you? I do not dislike you; on the contrary, I like you, as I have told you. So, I shall wait."

"What then?"

"Then I shall demand a price. I am not in this world merely to pass through it mechanically, like a clock wound up for a certain time. No; I want things and I intend to have them. I plan for them and I make sacrifices to get them. My one desire most of all is Helen Harley, but you are in the way. Stand out of it--withdraw--and no word of mine shall ever tell what I know. So far as I am concerned there shall be no Lucia Catherwood. I will do more: I will smooth her way from Richmond for her. Now, like a wise man, pay this price, Captain Prescott. It should not be hard for you."