A VOICE FROM THE PAST

Some hours later Doctor Boyd stepped inside his hall and softly closed the front door. Quickly removing his hat and heavy cloak, he went directly into his back office and felt about in the dark for his match box. It was not to be found in its accustomed place, and an angry exclamation escaped the doctor. Apparently Martha Crane, his trusted old housekeeper, had taken advantage of his absence and tidied up his desk, an act of vandalism which always reduced Boyd to a state bordering on frenzy.

“Kin I help yo’, suh?”

Doctor Boyd’s right hand sought his hip pocket, and he faced in the direction from which the voice came. The intruder guessed his intention and spoke hastily.

“Fo’ God’s sake, doan shoot, suh. I’se Sam.” And to confirm his statement he struck a match and held it so that his features were visible by the flickering flame.

“Well, come in and light this confounded burner,” exclaimed the doctor testily, as his fingers slowly relaxed their hold on his weapon. “Next time don’t announce your presence so dramatically, Sam, or you may get hurt.”

“Yessir.” The negro stepped with alacrity through the doorway which led to the front office, and applied his half burned match to the gas jet over the doctor’s desk. “Miss Martha done told me ter wait in dar.”

“Confound the woman!” The doctor seated himself in his armchair and contemplated the neatly arranged papers and ornaments on his desk in despair. “Where is she?”

“Done gone out,” announced Sam briefly. “I tole her I’d be ’sponsible fo’ de house ’til she cum back.”

“Where were you to-night, Sam? Miss Nancy expected you to meet her at the Perry’s.”

“I went dar, suh, but I seed a lot ob men a-hangin’ ‘roun’ watchin’ de place, so I jes’ cum on heah, thinkin’ p’raps Miss Nancy mite be wif yo’. I done got de papah she wanted.”

“Miss Nancy leaves at nine o’clock for Winchester.”

“Golly! Den I mus’ git right ‘roun’ an’ gib her dis heah papah.” Sam started for the door.

“Stop!” commanded Boyd. “The Newtons’ house is also watched by Secret Service agents. I saw them sneaking about the yard when I left Miss Nancy an hour ago. If you go there at this hour you will be arrested instantly.”

Sam scratched his woolly head in perplexity. “I reckon if I jes’ go to der back alley an’ whistle fo’ Misery dey won’ notice dis olé nigger,” he volunteered hopefully, after a moment’s thought.

“What good would that do you?”

“I’ll jes’ slip de papah in de dawg’s collah, an’ he’ll take it ter Missy same as he brings her messages ter me.”

Boyd shook his head. “It is too much to risk on a dog’s sagacity now that suspicion is directed toward Miss Nancy.”

“Den ‘spose I meet Missy at de train an’ slip de papah in her han’.”

“Unfortunately she is shadowed wherever she goes. Sit down a moment, Sam, and let me think.” The doctor stroked his chin reflectively. “I’m afraid if I go to their house on the pretext of giving Miss Metoaca medicine I will be searched, and if that paper is incriminating we will all swing together. Here, let me read the message, and then I can repeat it to Miss Nancy at the station.”

“No, suh, ’scuse me, suh, but dis heah papah was ter be delibered ter her pussionally.”

“I am the best judge of that. Give me the paper at once.”

“No, suh,” reiterated Sam obstinately. “Cunnel Newton tole me I was ter do ’zackly what Miss Nancy oddered, ‘kase he willed meh ter her fo’ he died, an’ I’se her serbent now same as I wore his body serbent.”

“Confound your stupidity,” growled Doctor Boyd. At that moment a sound from the basement reached his quick ear. Signing to Sam to remain where he was, Boyd tiptoed out into the hall and over to the back stairs. The kitchen door creaked dolefully as it was pushed open by an old woman who walked heavily along the lower hall toward the stairs carrying a lighted candle. The doctor drew a sigh of relief.

“Glad you have returned, Martha,” he called softly. “Please bring some ice water into my office on your way to bed.”

Sam was plucking nervously at his old hat when the doctor reentered the office.

“’Tain’t ‘kase I doan want ter gib yo’ dat papah, suh,” he began confusedly, edging toward the open hall door. “But de cunnel, he brunged meh up ter obey his odders, same as he done Miss Nancy. His word wore law to eb’ry one on de plantashun. I reckon I’se jes’ got ter fin’ some way ob reachin’ Miss Nancy.”

“You won’t have to reach far,” volunteered a familiar voice from the doorway. Sam wheeled about and a gasp escaped him.

“You? Nancy!” The doctor gazed incredulously at the stooping, gray-haired woman who hobbled into the room and closed the door.

For answer Nancy straightened her bent shoulders and removed the gray wig.

“I found Martha Crane with Aunt Metoaca,” she explained, seating herself by the desk. “She told me that you were here, Sam, and having failed to meet you at the Perrys’ I decided to try and catch you here before you left.”

“But where on earth did you get that disguise?” demanded the doctor.

“I borrowed the clothes from Martha; fortunately, with padding, they fit me quite well. She also lent me the key of your basement so that I would not attract attention by going to the front door. The wig,” Nancy laughed, “I used that in some tableaux at one of the Sanitary Fairs last year. It came in very handy, for the Secret Service men thought I was old Martha and let me pass unquestioned.”

“No wonder; your make-up is perfect,” declared Boyd heartily.

“Have you secured the paper for me, Sam?” asked Nancy.

“Yes, Missy.” Sam took a small slip of paper from an inside pocket and handed it to her. Nancy studied the closely written lines intently.

“Important?” inquired the doctor, breaking the long silence.

“Very.” She carefully refolded the slip. “This contains the key to Stanton’s private cipher code.”

A low whistle of surprise escaped Boyd. “How did you get it?”

“Arthur Shriver, who, as you know, was a clerk in his office, copied it, but before he could get it to me he was arrested on suspicion,” explained Nancy. “I heard he was confined in one of the front rooms in the Old Capitol Prison, and so arranged to have the sentry’s attention diverted while I questioned Arthur by prearranged signals.”

“Did the plan work?”

“It did. Arthur told me where he had hidden the paper, and I sent Sam to-night to get it for me.”

“Well, well!” The doctor sat back and contemplated Nancy admiringly. “There’s another message written on the back of that paper.”

Nancy turned it over and her eyes widened in surprise as she read aloud the hastily scrawled words: “Mrs. Bennett is a Union spy. I have just overheard an interview between her and Stanton.”

“That woman!” ejaculated the doctor. “That cat!”

“Felines scratch,” Nancy shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. “Stanton is fighting the devil with fire.”

“Be careful, Nancy; don’t undervalue your opponents,” cautioned the doctor.

“I flatter myself I am a match for Mrs. Bennett,” retorted Nancy, “and forewarned is forearmed.”

“Strange,” muttered Doctor Boyd. “Very strange. Do you recollect the ”

“I shall turn this paper over to you, Doctor,” broke in Nancy impetuously, “to take through the lines, along with a despatch which I also secured to-night.”

Boyd shook his head. “Impossible. I cannot leave the city now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a capital operation to perform at ten o’clock.”

Nancy gazed at him in consternation. “Why, Doctor, you have always said that when the Cause needed your services you would not fail....”

“Nor will I, when the Cause really needs me. But at present you are better equipped to carry these messages through the lines than I.”

Nancy fingered the table ornaments for a moment in silence; then raised her troubled eyes to her listener’s face.

“I have sent my last despatch,” she announced quietly.

“What!” The doctor could not believe his ears. “Why?”

“Because I refuse to deceive people any longer. I was brought up to believe a lie an abomination of the Lord and I have been a living lie for three long years!”

“You have developed a New England conscience,” growled Boyd.

“Do you think all the virtues belong north of Mason and Dixon’s line?” retorted Nancy hotly. “For shame!”

“I beg your pardon,” the old surgeon bowed toward her with stately courtesy. “Do be reasonable, child. This operation I am to perform means not only life to the patient, but much to science. Besides, I doubt if the authorities would allow me to leave Washington to-day. Now, your plans for leaving the city are already made; therefore it will be a very simple, easy matter for you to carry those papers into Virginia. You will run little risk...”

“I am not hesitating on that score,” broke in Nancy. “I would give my life gladly for the ’bonnie blue flag’ in the open. It is the underhand methods the spying the deceit that burn like a red-hot coal.” Nancy paused; then continued more quietly: “There is such a word as ’honor’.” She drew out another slip of paper from the bosom of her dress and tossed it, together with the paper already in her hand, on the table. “You must find another messenger.”

“Missy, Missy, what yo’ talkin’ ’bout?” Nancy and the doctor both started. They had forgotten Sam’s presence. “Is yo’ goin’ back on yo’ gibben word yo’ a Newton?”

The girl’s face whitened. She started to speak, but the negro gave her no opportunity to do so.

“Has yo’ done forgot dat Sunday night?” he asked, leaning forward across the table in his earnestness. “Dat night when I fotched yo’ from Newton Manor to Massa’s bedside?” His voice deepened, the musical voice of the emotional African.

In Nancy’s mind distinct and vivid rose the memory of that wild ride through the night to her father, the gay, handsome father whom she idolized. Then, in thought, she again knelt beside the rude bed in the silent tent, clinging to a feeble hand which had not the strength to return her pressure.

“Missy,” Sam’s voice brought her back to the present, “Massa done brunged yo’ up ter ride, an’ shoot, an’ swim ’kase he wanted a boy so bad. He wore shot leadin’ a charge ag’in de Yanks, an’ when de gen’ral cum later ter say how bad he feel ter lose Massa, he jes’ said: ’Ah wish Ah haid uh son ter take ma place in de ranks.’” The negro paused, then continued slowly: “When yo’ an’ I got dar, Missy, de Massa wore mos’ gone, but he say ter yo’: ‘Doan cry, dear, de fightin’ Newtons allus die wid de boots on an’ so die happy.’ An’ den he raise hissef up uh li’le an’ gasp: ‘Ah gib yo’ ter de Cause swear to uphold de honoh ob Virginny ter repel invasion swear ’” Sam raised his right hand solemnly. “An’ yo’ swore dat oath on de Crucifix, Missy, on de Crucifix in a dyin’ man’s han’.”

Sam’s accusing eyes held Nancy spellbound. Mechanically she readjusted her wig. Quickly her right hand sought the papers lying on the table, and before either of the men realized her intention she had slipped from the room and was gone.