"Pull yourself together," continued Lloyd sternly. "She cannot do any harm even if she does manage to send that despatch to Lee; it is false information."
Twice Mitchell tried to speak. "Man, man," he gasped finally. "By some fearful mischance I dropped a real despatch and not the bogus one."
With eyes starting from his head, Lloyd regarded the unfortunate officer while he slowly digested his startling news. Then he picked up his overcoat and hat and made for the closed door. "To think I let that girl go into Virginia under the President's pass with that despatch in her pocket. Damnation!" and the door slammed violently on his retreating figure.
Goddard rose bright and early that morning. He did not awaken Lloyd, for he had bidden him good-bye the night before, so after scrawling a few lines to his friend thanking him for his hospitality and leaving the note on the bureau, he hastened down to the Newtons'. Nancy and her aunt did not keep him waiting long, and with the help of their butler he got them into the waiting hack, tossed in their numerous hand luggage, and jumped up by the driver. On their arrival at the depot he found they had but three minutes in which to catch the train, so he unceremoniously bundled Miss Metoaca and Nancy through the gates and to the train; while the hackman brought up the rear with two carpet bags and a lunch hamper.
They found they had the car practically to themselves, so Miss Metoaca picked out the cleanest seat, and insisted that all the luggage be put by her side where it would be directly under her eye. Then she announced she was going to take "forty winks," as she had been up most of the night and needed sleep. With a sigh of satisfaction, Goddard settled himself next to Nancy in the seat directly across the aisle from Miss Metoaca. As the train pulled out from the depot a man swung himself aboard the back platform and slipped into a seat in the rear of the last car unseen by Goddard.
"You look tired," said Goddard, glancing keenly at Nancy's pale face.
"I am; for I spent most of the night with a sick servant. But you, Major Goddard, don't look any too fresh yourself," replied Nancy quickly.
It was true. Goddard had spent a sleepless night. He could not believe—would not believe Lloyd's charge against Nancy. After all, she was not the only girl, or woman, with red-gold hair in the world. Lloyd had nothing to go upon but theories—no absolute proof—and an innocent act might easily be construed into a guilty one by a suspicious mind. Perhaps Lloyd's wish had proved father to the thought; he showed extraordinary animosity toward Nancy. All the chivalry of his nature revolted at the Secret Service officer's cold-blooded scheme to ensnare her, and Goddard determined in his own mind she should have fair play.
"Are you a Washingtonian by birth, Miss Newton?" he inquired, as she moved restlessly under his intent gaze.
"No, by adoption. I was born and raised in Richmond. I do not remember my mother. She died when I was very young. After my father's death I came north in charge of my black mammy, Aunt Polly, to live with Aunt Metoaca. My dear father," Nancy's eyes filled with unbidden tears, and she hastily tried to wink them away. "I wish you could have known each other, Major. Dad's courtly greeting and warm heart won him so many, many friends."