He lifted himself suddenly and recovered his selfcontrol.

"No. That's just it," he answered bitterly. "I wouldn't have done it had I known-nor would he, had he known. But I should have seen before that every torn and mangled body I had counted in the reckoning of the glory of battle was some other man's brother, some other mother's boy

He paused and drew himself suddenly erect:

"Well I'm awake now-I know and see things as they are!"

His hand unconsciously felt for his revolver, and Betty threw her arms around his neck with a smothered cry of horror:

"Merciful God-John-my darling-you are madwhat are you going to do?"

"Why nothing, dear," he protested, "nothing! I'm simply going to ask the President whose power is supreme to give my father a fair trial or release him— that's all-you needn't stay longer-the carriage is waiting. I can introduce myself and plead my own cause. If he's the fair, great-hearted man you believe, he'll see that justice is done"

"You are going to kill the President!" Betty gasped. "Nonsense-but if I were—what is the death of one man if thousands live? I saw sixty thousand men in blue fall in thirty days-two thousand a day-besides those who wore the grey. At Cold Harbor I saw ten thousand of my brethren fall in twenty minutes. Why should you gasp over the idea that one man may die whose death would stop this slaughter?"

"John, you're mad!" she cried, clinging to him desperately. "You're mad, I tell you. You've lost

your reason. Come with me, dear-come at once"No. I was never more sane than now," he answered firmly.

"Then I'll warn the President

He held her with cruel force:

99

"You understand that if it's true, my arrest, courtmartial and death follow?”

"No. I'll warn him not to come. I alone know

She broke his grip on her arm and started toward the door. He lifted his hand in quick commanding gesture:

"Wait! my men are in that hall-it's his life or mine You can take your choice-____",

now.

The girl's figure suddenly straightened:

"Take your men out and go with them at once!" "No. If he does justice, I may spare his life. If he does not

99

"You shall not see him"

"It's my life or his-I warn you

"Then it's yours-I choose my country!"

She walked with quick, firm step to the door leading into the family apartments of the President. On the threshold her feet faltered. She grasped the door facing, turned, and saw him standing with folded arms watching her with the eyes of a madman. Her face went white. She lifted her hand to her heart and slowly stumbled back into his arms.

"God have mercy!" she sobbed. "I'm just a woman -my love-my darling-I-I-can't-kill you"

Her arms relaxed and she would have fallen to the floor had he not caught the fainting form and carried her into the hall.

Two men were at his side instantly.

"he

"Take Miss Winter downstairs," he whispered. "There's a carriage at the gate. Bring it quietly to the door-one of you take her to the Senator's home. The other must return here immediately and wait my orders. There's no guard in this outer hall at night. The one inside is with the boy. Keep out of sight if any one passes."

The men obeyed without a word and John Vaughan stepped quickly back into the Executive office, drew the short curtains across the window, turned the lights on full, examined his revolver, and sat down in careless attitude beside the President's desk. He could hear his heavy step already approaching the door.

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE ASSASSIN

John Vaughan's face paled with the sudden realization of the tremendous deed he was about to do. It had seemed the only solution of the Nation's life and his own, an hour ago. The air of Washington reeked with deadly hatred of the President. Every politician who could not control his big, straightforward, honest mind was his enemy. The gloom which shrouded the country over Grant's losses and the failure of his campaign had set every hound yelping at his heels in full cry. He spent much of his time in the hospitals visiting and cheering the wounded soldiers. These men were his friends. They believed in his honesty, his gentleness and his humanity, and yet so deadly had grown the passions of war and so bitter the madness of political prejudice that the majority of the wounded men were going to vote against him in the approaching election.

An informal vote taken in Carver Hospital had shown the amazing result of three to one in favor of McClellan!

John Vaughan, in his fevered imagination, had felt that he was rendering a heroic service to the people in removing the one obstacle to peace. The President was the only man who could possibly defeat McClellan

and continue the war. He was denounced by the opposition as usurper, tyrant, and dictator. He was denounced by thousands of men in his own party as utterly unfit to wield the power he possessed.

And yet, as he heard the slow, heavy footfall approaching the door, a moment of agonizing doubt gripped his will and weakened his arm. His eye rested on a worn thumbed copy of the Bible which lay open on the desk. This man, who was not a church member, in the loneliness of his awful responsibilities, had been searching there for guidance and inspiration. There was a pathos in the thought that found his inner conscience through the mania that possessed him.

Well, he'd test him. He would try this tyrant here alone before the judgment bar of his soul-condemn him to death or permit him to live, as he should prove true or false to his mighty trust.

His hand touched his revolver again and he set his square jaws firmly.

The tall figure entered and closed the door.

A flash of blind rage came from the depths of John Vaughan's dark eyes at the first sight of him. He moved forward a step and his hand trembled in a desperate instinctive desire to kill. He was a soldier. His enemy was before him advancing. To kill had become a habit. It seemed the one natural thing to do.

He stopped with a shock of surprise as the President turned his haggard eyes in a dazed way and looked about the room.

The light fell full on his face increasing its ghostlike pathetic expression. The story of anxiety and suffering was burnt in letters of fire that left his features a wrinkled mask of grey ashes. The drooping