The Victim: A romance of the Real Jefferson Davis Part 28

In a moment he had disappeared in the crowd and hurried to the office of the Secretary of War.

Holt received his announcement with a smile about the corners of his strong, crooked mouth.

"That's lucky. I'd rather you were with Davis ten to one. Amuse yourself for the week by getting all the information possible of their junta here--"

"Barton will stay until the inauguration--"

"Of course--a spy in the camp of the enemy. He could be arrested, but it's not wise under the circ.u.mstances--"

"You will not arrest Senator Davis?"

"Nonsense. Stanton's a fool. Nothing would please them better. I've convinced him of that. A wrangle in the courts now over such an issue would postpone its settlement indefinitely. The Supreme Court of the United States has sustained the South on every issue that has been raised. The North is leading a revolution. The South is entrenched behind the law. They can't be ousted by law. It can only be done by the bayonet--"

Holt paused and looked thoughtfully across the Potomac.

"Report to me daily--"

Socola silently saluted and left the office with his first feeling of suspicion and repulsion for his Chief. He didn't like the blunt, brutal way this Southern Democrat talked. He couldn't believe in his honesty.

Beneath those bushy eyebrows burned a wolf's hunger for office and power. On the surface he was loyal to the Union. He wondered if he were not in reality playing a desperate waiting game, ready at the moment of the crisis to throw his information to either side? The air of Washington reeked with suspicion and double dealing.

"Oh, my Country," he murmured bitterly, "if ever true men were needed!"

He strolled through the street on which Senator Davis and Barton lived directly opposite each other. He would call on Jennie and express his regret that their party had been postponed. At the door he changed his mind. Too much attention at this stage of the game would not be wise. He pa.s.sed on, glancing at the distinguished-looking group of men who were emerging from the Davis door.

He wondered what was going on in that home? It seemed impossible that Davis should be the leader of a Southern rebellion. Clay or Toombs, yes--but this man with his blood-marked history of devotion to the Union--this man with his proud record of constructive statesmanship as Senator and Secretary of War--it seemed preposterous!

Could he have heard the counsel Davis was giving at that moment to the excited men who made his unpretentious house their Mecca, he would have been still more astonished. For six days and nights with but a few hours s.n.a.t.c.hed for sleep, he implored the excited leaders of Southern opinion to avoid violence, and be patient. The one note of hopefulness in his voice came with the mention of the new President-elect, Abraham Lincoln.

"Mr. Lincoln is a man of friendly, moderate opinions personally," he persistently advised. "He may he able to surround himself with a council of conservative men who will use their power to hold the radical wing of his party in check until by delay we can call a convention of all the States and in this national a.s.sembly find a solution short of bloodshed.

We must try. We must exhaust every resource before we dream of war. We must accept war only when it is forced upon us by our enemies."

By telegrams and letters to every Southern leader he knew he urged delay, moderation, postponement of all action.

The week pa.s.sed and the Cabinet of Buchanan had not dared accept the Southern leader's challenge to arrest and trial.

The Davis party had found their seats in the train for the South. Socola strolled the platform alone, waiting without sign of interest for the hour of departure.

d.i.c.k Welford arrived five minutes before the train left and extended his hand to Jennie.

"Forgive me, Jennie!"

With a bright smile she clasped his hand.

"Of course, d.i.c.k--I took your silly ravings too seriously."

"No--I was a fool. I'll make up for it. I'll go over now and shake hands with the reptile if you say so--"

"Nonsense--you'll not do anything of the sort. He's nothing to me. He's the guest of the South--that's all."

"Honest now, Jennie--you don't care for any other fellow?"

"Nor for you, either!" she laughed.

"Of course, I know that--but I can keep on trying, can't I?"

"I don't see how I can prevent it!"

d.i.c.k grinned good-naturedly and Jennie laughed again.

"You're in for a siege with me, I'll tell you right now."

"It's a free fight, d.i.c.k. I'm indifferent to the results."

"Then you don't _mind_ if I win?"

"Not in the least. At the present moment I'm a curious spectator--that's all."

"Lord, I wish I were going with you--"

"I wish so, too--"

"Honest, Jennie?"

"Cross my heart--"

d.i.c.k laughed aloud.

"Say--I tell you what I'm going to do!"

"Yes?"

"If Virginia don't secede in ten days--I will. I'll resign my job here with old Hunter and join the Confederacy. I don't like this new clerkship business anyhow--expect me in ten days--"

Before Jennie could answer he turned suddenly and left the car.

At the end of the platform he ran squarely into Socola. He was about to pa.s.s without recognition, stopped on an impulse, and extended his hand:

"Fine day, Signor!"

"Beautiful, M'sieur," was the smooth answer.

d.i.c.k hesitated.

"I'm afraid I was a little rude the other day?"

"No offense, I'm sure, Mr. Welford--"

"Of course, you can guess I'm in love with Miss Barton--"