A newsboy passed yelling an extra.
"Extra—Extra! General McClellan again in the saddle! Extra!"
It was true—he had made the appointment. What was its meaning? Had they forced the President into this humiliating act? If the General were really guilty of destroying Pope and overwhelming the army in defeat, his treachery had created the crisis which forced his return to power. The return under such conditions would not be a vindication. It would be a conviction of crime.
She would see the President at once and know the truth. The question cut the centre of John Vaughan's character. The orderly who brought the note was waiting for an answer.
She called from the head of the stairs:
"Tell Mr. Vaughan there is no answer to-day."
"Yes, Miss."
With quick salute he passed out and Betty stood irresolute as she listened to the echo of his horse's hoof-beat growing fainter. It was only six o'clock, but the days were getting shorter and it was already dark. She could walk quickly down Pennsylvania Avenue and reach the White House before dinner. He would see her at any hour.
In five minutes she was on the way her mind in a whirl of speculation on the intrigue which might lie behind that sensational announcement. She was beginning to suspect her lover's patriotism. A man could love the South, fight and die for it and be a patriot—he was dying for what he believed to be right—God and his country. But no man could serve two masters. Her blood boiled at the thought of a conspiracy within the lines of the Union whose purpose was to betray its Chief. If John Vaughan were in it, she loved him with every beat of her heart, but she would cut her heart out sooner than sink to his level!
She became conscious at last of the brazen stares of scores of brutal-looking men who thronged the sidewalks of the Avenue.