“I don’t mean to question your judgment, Colonel, but the evidence––”
“The evidence was circumstantial. That evidence has been refuted by facts not to be ignored.” Masterson looked at him inquiringly, a look comprehended by McVeigh, who touched the bell for Pluto.
“I must have time to consider before I decide what to do with those facts,” he continued. “I shall know tonight.”
“And in the meantime what are we to do with the squad from down the river?” asked Masterson, grimly. “They have just arrived to take him for court martial; they are waiting your orders.”
“I will have their instructions ready in an hour.”
“They bring the report of some definite action on the slavery question by the Federal authorities,” remarked Masterson, with a smile of derision. “Lincoln has proclaimed freedom for our slaves, the order is to go into effect the first of the year, unless we promise to be good, lay down our arms, and enter the Union.”
“The first of the year is three months away, plenty of time to think it over;” he locked his desk and arose. “Excuse me now, Phil,” he said, kindly, “I must go down and speak with Captain Monroe.” He paused at the door, and Masterson noticed that his face was very pale and his lips had a strange, set expression. Whatever task he had before him was not easy to face! “You might help me in this,” he added, “by telling my mother we must make what amends we can to him––if any amends are possible for such indignities.”
He went slowly down the stairs and entered the library. Monroe was wiping the rain from his coat collar and holding a dripping hat at arm’s length.
“Since you insist on my afternoon calls, Colonel McVeigh, I wish you would arrange them with some regard to the elements,” he remarked. “I was at least dry, and safe, where I was.”