"Then, what do you mean by saying you fell over his body on the floor?"
"It wasn't his body, sir."
"Get on, get on!" Stanton glared impatiently at Symonds, who had stopped and was nervously twirling his cap in his fingers. The President was intently watching Nancy, who sat on the edge of her chair listening to Symonds' slow speech with bated breath.
"I picked myself up, sir, considerably shaken, struck a match, found a burner and lighted the gas. Then I leaned over and looked at the man on the floor ... it was Major Goddard!"
A low cry of terror broke from Nancy. She reeled in her seat. Stanton viewed her emotion with grim satisfaction. He had found the vulnerable heel of Achilles.
"He wasn't ... Symonds, don't say it...."
Nancy pleaded. "Don't say he was——" Her hands were raised, as if to push some over-mastering horror from her.
"No, no, ma'am; he was only unconscious from a blow on his head." Symonds, shocked by her look of agony, spoke with unusual rapidity.
Nancy bowed her head in her hands; then, realizing that the four men were noting her every movement, she straightened herself and faced them with regained self-control.
"What next, Symonds?" exclaimed Stanton.