"Admit the bearer, the sister of the prisoner, Ned Vaughan, the night before his execution to see him for five minutes.
"A. Lincoln."
"I'm sorry, little girl, I couldn't do more for your sake—but you understand?"
Betty nodded, returned the pressure of his hand and hurriedly left the room.
The hanging was fixed for the following Friday at noon. The pass would admit his sister on Thursday night. Betty had three days in which to work. She drew every dollar of her money and went at her task swiftly, silently, surely, until she reached the guard inside the grim old prison, who held the keys to the death watch.
She couldn't trust the sister with her daring plan. She might lose her nerve. She must impersonate her. It was a dangerous piece of work, but it was not impossible. She had only to pass the inspectors. The guards inside were her friends.
On Thursday night at eight o'clock a carriage drew up at the little red brick house, on whose door flashed the brass plate sign:
Elizabeth Garland, Modiste She had made an appointment with Mrs. Lincoln's dressmaker and arranged for it at this late hour. She must not be seen leaving her father's house to-night.
She drove rapidly to the Capitol, stopped her carriage at the north end, entered the building through the Senate wing, quickly passed out again, and in a few minutes had presented her pass to the commandant of the Old Capitol Prison.
The woman inspector made the most thorough search and finding nothing suspicious, allowed her to enter the dimly lighted corridor of the death watch.