^ ptOfjIEOf J^YENTURE^em^^^Ci^ n. C. f,- Nov VOL. 7. NOVELIST PUBLISHING CO, No. 18 KOSE IjISHINU CO., I 7VTT?\"I' \'.\OT'" i STREET. , iN^vVN 1 OKK. \ Single Copy, I O Cents. NO. 282. Their Dele ctive;"'^^y !!!l!*"'°" Paul Phillips, the Union spy of Richmond, makes a uesperaie break for liberty THE WAR LIBRARY. ^ g SECRET SERVICE IN THE REBELLION. story of Booth's Great Conspiracy. MAJOR A. F. GRANT. CHAPTER f. JOHN WILKES BOOTH " Look at that, l)oy, and lend me your opinion," The speaker, a man apparently fifty years of age, threw into a youth's lap a piece of paper, folded like most business communica- tions usually are. "What! have you been getting letters?" smiled the young man, as he picked up the paper and began to unfold it. " It looks that way, and from high authority, too. " Not from " Here the speaker opened the letter, and finished with an exclamation : " From President Davis !" "Yes, from Jeff himself," was the reply. "Its contents will both surprise and puzzle you, but read and see whether I am cor- rect or not." The next moment the youth was reading the letter which was quite brief, and in the well known handwriting of the president of the Southern Confederacy. This was what he read : "Mr. Cantwell: Dear .Sir— It is my earnest desire that you discover something about the man Maxon as soon as possible. I am fearful that he is a Northern agent in Colonel Baker's pay. I t)lace much reliance on you, and feel assured that you will devote rour time and energies to the service of the Confederacy. Maxon, teel, from what I have learned, is not a proper person to be in Richmond at this time. Very truly yours, " jErrEKSON Davis." "From the head of the Confederacy himself, and no mistake," said the younger of the twain, aloud, looking up into the almost expressionless face of his companion. "You are right, Leon. This letter both surprises and puzzles me. Why should Davis address it to you, and who is this man Maxon suspected of being one of Baker's spies ?" A slight smile appeared at the corners of the listener's mouth. "One question at a time, Paul," he said. " Mr. Davis addresses me because he thinks I am a proper person to attend to Maxon. When did I meet the rebel president? Oh, since you left Rich- mond I have had several interviews with his excellency." "You have?" exclaimed the young man. "By heavens! you have more courage thau Maxon !" " One needs a little courage here to play the game I am playing, eh, Paul?" was the reply. " Yes, Jefferson Davis thinks me loyal to the cause, even now on its last legs in the trenches before Petersburg. Why should hesuspecta man introduced and vouched for by his own secretary of war ?" Paul looked astonished. " Who vouched for you to the secretary ?" he asked. "My letters." "From whom ?" "From some of the secretary's Canadian friends, let us say, Paul. Why, sir, I've been a frequent vi.sitor at the Confederate war office during the last fortnight. I could stuff you with infor- mation that would delight Grant, and take much of the sadness from Lincoln's face. I'm not a secret agent of this tottering gov- ernment, although that letter would make me one. Now, to your next question : Who is the man Maxon ? I fancy you would start if you knew." Paul did not reply, but kept looking into the speaker's face. " We detectives always have secrets," he went on, " and the one I am about to impart would speedily put a hangman's noose over my head if it was known beyond these walls. I am Maxon." The youth, not prepared for such a revelation, almost started from his chair. " Do you mean to say that Davis wants you to hunt down and hang yourself?" he cried. "He means that and nothing less," was the quiet answer. "I fear that, as Maxon, the Tennessean, I took one step too many, but it cannot be recalled at this stage of the game. At any rate, I am suspected, it seems — as Maxon, I mean— but as yet no one believes that Cantwell is a Northern detective in the Confederate capital." " But how long will you be safe if Maxon is suspected ?" asked Paul, quickly. "Until I fulfill my mission here." " When will that be ?" " Before morning, if my friend keeps her appointment. "Then you have taken a woman into your oonfldence?" "Why not? You forget, Paul, that you have been gone three weeks. In that period I have had time to play several games." " I know that, Leon, but " " You don't like this woman business ?" " I confess frankly that I do not. You are an old detective and kuow what is best, I suppose, but were I in your shoes here in the heart of the Southern Confederacy, I would let women severely Cantwell smiled again. " 1 admire your frankness, boy," he said. " Nevertheless I have intrusted my identity to a woman. She could go out on the streets of Richmond and by one word have me lanched into eternity before to-moriow. This woman I never saw before I came here. I never met her until a few days ago. She is a mystery, for I never even saw her face." Paul, the youth, could hardly repress au exclamation of aston- ishment. " I speak the truth," the war detective went on. " I have heard her voice; she has talked with me for an hour, but I cannot say whether she is homely, or as beautiful as Psyche. She has never told me that she is loyal to the Union. For all I know, she may be a Confederate." Paul did not speak, he sat at the table with a stare of wonder- ment, as it he doubted Cantwell's sanity. " I have said that my mission to Richmond may end, if she keeps her appointment, before morning," continued the detective, taking out his watch. "She should be here now. If she does not come to-night " A low rapping like a signal broke Cantwell's sentence, and Paul threw a quick look toward the door. "She is here, Paul. Quick! enter yon room, but do not close the door tightly. I want you to see something of this woman, and I also want you to hear her report." The young man left the room and entered au apartment a few steps away, closing the door after him in a manner that left a lit- tle space, to which he applied his eyes. The graceful form and carriage noticed by Paul as the detec- tive's visitor advanced to the chair he had just vacated, told him that the lady was young and accomplished. His fingers itched to lift the dark brown veil, and expose the iaoe which Cantwell even had not seen. " I have not been waiting for you long," said the detective, as if in response to a remark by his visitor as she dropped into the? chair. "I have been amused with a letter which I received a few minutes ago." "A letter?" echoed the lady, in a voice whose rich tones fell melodiously on Paul's ears. " Was it delivered ?" "It was;" and drawing from his pocket the letter he had re- ceived from Jefferson Davis, Cantwell placed it in her hands. Paul saw a pair of gloved hands unfold the letter and hold it in a manner so as to place the lamp almost between her and it. Then, for a while, she read through the veil. "Well, will you find Mr. Maxon ?" she asked, suddenly turning upon Cantwell. " Mr. Davis, I am sure, is quite anxious to fix his identity." Paul was anxious to hear Cantwell's reply. Did the strange woman know that he and Maxon were one ? Wasit possible that Cantwell had surrendered to her all his secrets ? " I may hunt for Mr. Maxon," was the reply, in all seriousness; " but I am anxious to leave Richmond. I have been here six months, you know, and six months in the shadow of the halter is not a pleasant residence. I have tarried here for your report." The last sentence seemed to shut off further questioning by the woman. She laid the letter, folded carefully, within Cantwell's reach, and threw a rapid glance around the room. " My report ?" she said. " Yes, you have been waiting for that. I have not forgotten it. I have been playing a role from which I would have shrunk with loathing, a short time ago. I have turned spy, informer, traitoress, and sleuth-hound. I almost wish to God that I had never seen the light of day. I have told you that there is on foot the blackest conspiracy ever bom in the brain of man. The bare mention of it would chill your blood. It has chilled mine. I cannot think of it without a shudder. My God! why did I ever meet you, Silas Cantwell ? Why did I ever intimate that I knew a trail blacker than the road that leads to perdition ?" The veiled speaker left her chair and started toward the door. Cantwell did not attempt to detain her, but fixed upon her bid penetrating black eyes without a single glance toward Paul. "I ought to fly, and yet I ought to tell you all I know," she went on, coming back from the door whose knob her fingers had actual ly touched. " Silas Cantwell, you know and I know that the cause of the South is lost. Grant cannot be kept from this city much longer, Four years ot blood'«bed will eetablish no rival THE WaR LIBBAKY. Union in this country. I thank God for that ! Thousands of blue- coats and gray-jaokets hare fallen in battle; but the end is near at hand. It is to be an end that will shook the world. One man has sworn to make history that will never be forgotten ; he has recorded in Heaven an oath before which you would stand aghast. You want me to tell you what that oath is, for unless you know, neither you nor auy one else can frustrate him. But I can- not tell you what it is." "Very well," said the war detective, calmly. "This is your final report, I suppose. For this I have overstayed roy time In the rebel capital, and disobeyed my superior." There was a tinge of bitterness in Oantwell's tones. " Cantwell, Cantwell ! I am oath-bound as to the awful scheme afoot," cried the mysterious Tomau. " Would to Heaven I had died before I took the vow. I followed him too closely. I ferreted him out wherever he went. I have been his shadow for days. He is in Richmond now ; but he may not be here at daylight." Paul laid his hand on the door-knob, for an almost uncontrolla- ble impulse was forcing him into the room where Cantwell faced his excited visitor. " Ha! he turned ou you when you got too close, eh?" said Cant- well, in a voice that kept Paul back. "Yes, yes." " And he bound you to secrecy by an oath 7" " Au oath that rings in my ears this moment." " Go over it in your mind. He swore you not to reveal his plot; not to expose his scheme. Dare you reveal his name? It you dare, speak out, and leave the rest to me." Paul could see that the detective's eyes seemed to burn their way through the veil that hid the woman's face. She rose slowly from the chair and threw a right hand heaven- ward. " Record it against me. Heaven, if in speaking his name I break my oath," she said, solemnly. " He swore me not to reveal what I had heard and seen. I will take upon myself the responsibility of speaking his name. If I violate the awful vow he forced from my lips, may the penalty he attached to it be visited upon my head." Cantwell looked like a man who had triumphed. The uplifted arm dropped at the woman's side again, and her kidden face was turned upon the detective. "His name now?" "John Wilkes Booth!" The name seemed to flud an echo in Paul's heart. "Ho!" he ejaculated; "was all that theatrical display for the jiurpose of meutiouing that name? I've seen the fellow on the boards. " As for CMiilwell, l:e had niaili' no reply to the revelation, and it 'tvas easy to see that the name of the young actor had strangely impressed him. The time was near when it would startle a world. I startle CHAPTER II. THE BIT OF PAPER. .lohn Wilkes Booth ! What was there in the sound of that name at that any one ? He was an actor of some repute, who had starred with success through the principal cities of the North, drawing crowds as much by the fame of his father as by his own merits. He was known everywhere as the son of Junius Brutus Booth, a tragedian of note, and one of the greatest Richards the stage has ever seen. His friends knew that his heart was wrapped up in the cause of the Confederacy, but not one of them dreamed that he was about to establish hi;-, fame in a manner which would cover his name with curses for all time to come. Paul, the youth who even laughed at the veiled woman's rela- tion, knew Booth ; he had seen him act, and had a passing ac- quaintance with him. That he was maturing a plot, the consummation of which was to startle a world, wcs, in his estimation, preposterous. In short, he did not believe it. Suddenly Cantwell started toward' the woman. " I thank you," he said. " So it is J. Wilkes Booth, or Wilkes, as I used to call him who bound you with an oath ?" " Do you know him ?" He was here before the war and played 1 We got pretty thick then. So he is here now ? I wonder if he'd know me?" Cantwell spoke the last sentence in a meditative strain, and but half audible. " Are you going to see him ?" asked the veiled woman, display- ing some agitation despite the mask. "Why not?" " He might betray you. You forget that the South has no truer friend than Wilkes Booth." " He, for the Confederacy ? X might have known that. When we parted last the North was being aroused by the guns of Fort Sumter, and he said: ' Good-by, Silas. There'll be two govern- ments on this continent when the battle smoke clears away." I haven't seen him since. Yes, I will see him if I can, and I will know in what way he is going to 9ho(^k the world." " Find out, for Heaven's sake, and do so quickly, cried the strange woman, laying her hand on the war detective's arm. " 1 dare not tell you what I have heard. Oh. I wish I had never been bora! When the time comes— when the deed has been done, Cantwell, think of me and feel how I would like to have prevented it." Her hand fell from Cautwell's arm, and she stepped back. " We may never meet again," said the detective, stepping toward her. " I may leave Richmond within the ne.xt three hours, but I cannot say. Recollect, that I have never even sought to know your name. You are at liberiy to leave my room ; but if you will show your face, I will look ; if you wish to speak your name, I will listen." • " Cantwell, I will satisfy your curiosity, ' was the answer. " You may call me Pauline; as for my face, behold it." With the last word one of the gloved hands raised the veil and showfcC the face of a young woman, who could not have passed her twentieth year. It was fair and faultless in symmetry, with large, lustrous blue eyes, a bewitching mouth, and crowned with a look of intelli- gence. Cantwell. at once struck with its beauty, leaned forward with an e.xpression of admiration on his lips, but at that moment the veil dropped over the pleasing picture, and Pauline's voice said : " Enough. I must go." The war detective would have restrained the beauty of Richmond if the door behind him had not been thrown open at that instant, and Paul leaped info the room. " Let me see that face again!" he cried, halting before the mys- terious woman. " Can it be that I stand before " He was interrupted by a piercing cry from the unseen lips. " No— no !" and the veiled womau moved toward the door. "lu the name of Heaven what brought j/oii to Richmond?" she cried, looking at Paul. "Which flag do you serve? Paul Phillips, you rise before me likea ghost. Are you a Northern spy, like that man there? Has Colonel Baker sent you to Richmond to die with a rope around your neck ? Go back to the Yankee army ! Cantwell, send him from Richmond this very night. Me will obey you, or he would not be here now. There was a time when he refused to lis- ten to me. He will refuse again. Paul, there is a man in Rich- mond who knows that you are here as a Union agent. I did not expect to meet you here; but I did not forget your papers. Here they are. The ne.xt time keep your discoveries from paper." As she finished, the veiled woman threw a; packet at Paul's feet. He lost color as he pounced upon it, and clutched it with an ejac- ulation of joy. "He had those papers stolen from him a few nights ago," said Pauline, turning to Cantwell. "They're enough to hang him. Do you always let your scholars— your spies— write their discoveries down in the enemies country? I got his papers for him. I have saved his life. No thanks, Paul Phillips. The next time exercise a little more discretion." She pulled the door open and stepped across the threshold. Paul leaped forward. " Pauline, one word— one " " No ; not another syllable!" and she was gone. For a minute the young man stood in the doorway with the echo of her refusal in his ears, then he was recalled to the present by Cantwell's voice. " Hang me, if I know who mystifies me the most— you or that strange woman," said the war detective. " You have met her be- fore, it seems?" "Yes; but stop where you are, Cantwell," said Paul, coming forward, with uplifted hand. " I did not think she was in Rich- mond. Heaven, I wish I could forget some things!" "If you had had a little more patience 1 would have got his whereabouts from Pauline," he said. " Now I'll have to hunt him for myself." " And you are still determined to find him ?" " You think him capabable of doing something against the North ?" " There," said the detective, gently, but with resolution. " I told you awhile ago, Paul, that we detectives have some sacred secrets. Let me say that I will see Wilkes Booth if I can before I leave Richmond. Do you know what brings him here at this time ? Do you not know that the air in certain quarters is filled with threats ot assassination ?" THE WAR LIBRARY. " I know that Grant's life ia threatened. Men skv i.peiily here that he will never live to take Lee's sword. " " Tell me the man who said that. You have been in Biehtnoud long enough to know the prominent Confederates. Can you name theman who threatened Grant?" " I can do so. It was Colonel Opal— a mau whom you must know." " Colonel Opal!" echoed Cantwell. " "SVhy, tliat man presented Wilkes Booth with a magnificent wardrobe for Richard III. when he last played in Richmond. What do you think now, Paul ?" " It proves nothing. I do not see how you can connect Colonel Opal's boast with the wild scheme Pauline ascribes to Booth's brain." The detective was silent. " This Colonel Opal is a flre-eater of the first class," he said, after awhile. " I have made a study of him during your absence from tliecity. He is capable of really doing something desperate. 1 liave my doubts whether he is altogether in his right mind." "Then his boasts and threats amount to nothiug." Cantwell slowly shook his head. "There may be a method in his madness, ' he said. "Since you know liim, let me ask if you have ever seen any of his hand- writing '/' "I have seen a good deal of it." " Enough to recognize a specimen of it if one were placed before him?" " I think so." Cantwell made no reply but drew from his pocket a slip of paper, which had been torn into three pieces, but was now a whole, liaviug been piisted together. He stepped to the talile and laid the paper under the lamp, knowing that tlie young man had followed him and was then at his side. "Is that in Colonel Opal's handwriting:'" queried Cantwell, glancing fiom the paper to Paul. "Bend down and view it closely. It is written with a pencil. Look sharp, my boy. What's the matter ? You're losing color again." It was true that Paul Phillips' face was quite white, and his eyes wliiih seemed ready to leap from his head, were staring at the little piece of paper Cantwell's hands were holding on the table. " That's not Colonel Opal's chirography. He never wrote a line of it ! ' said Paul, finding his tongue. ■ Whose is itl' Do you know?" ■ Yes. It ia Wilkes Booth's!" t'iiui well's hands left the table: he straightened up and whirled " Are you sure that Wilkes Booth penned that line?" he asketl. " I :iiii. My brother used to correspond with him. I am familial with his writing. I would swear to that terrible sentence beiinr from his hand." Cantwell turned to the paper and read its single line with flash- ing eyes. I'.ri.^i it was: " .\BRAHAM Lincoln; Died, March 4, 1805." I'anI looked at the detective as if he were trying lo intercept the thoughts passing through his brain. " 111 make that sentence a lie!" grated Cantwell, suddenly, be- tween clinched teeth. " Paul, you go at once to Washington." "To Washington? • " To Colonel Baker." The war detective picked up the startling paper and threw him- ^elf into a chair at the table. Then he drew writing materials to him, and wrote rapidly in cypher for five minutes. " Now, sir, to Baker !" he said, rising and thrusting what he had written into Paul's hands. "Yon are not to say a word to any living creature about the contents of the paper I have shown you. Baker will give you something to do till I come. If Wilkes Booth wrote that sentence, there's something in his wild scheme. To Washington !" Paul concealed the letter for the chief of the secret service be- neath his coat, and picked up his bat. One would think that the two men would have exchanged good- nights, but neither uttered a syllable, and a moment later Cantwell was alone. Aa for Paul Phillips, he left the house and stood for a moment on the street in the starlight, as though loth to bid the rebel capi- tal farewell." "To Waahingtonl " he ejaculated, starting forward. "I have promised to obey Leon's every command, and I'll place thecypher message in Baker's hands, or die." Those are brave words, Paul Phillips, and thrilling scenes will aoon make you recall them a thousand times. The route to Washington is not strewn with flowers; a trailer is already at your heels. CHAPTER III. THE ARCH SCHEMER. When the war detective's messenger moved oft he was watched by the keenest eyes in Richmond. A lithe figure clad in men's garments, but with the Btealthy tread of a leopard, moved after him from a certain spot, as it it liad been waiting for him lo emerge from the house. Paul walked rapidly toward that part of the Confederate capital from whence on several occasions prior to the opening of our story he had made his way to Grant's army, laying active siege to Petersburg. Not for one moment did the sharp eyes of the tracker lose sight of Paul. Whenever the young man stopped the trailer stopped also, and when Paul found himself among the suburbs of Richmond his watcher bottuded forward with great eagerness. Then it was that Paul heard his footsteps for the first time, and as he caught a glimpse of the form moving toward him through the starlight, he laid his hand on his revolver. "Is my mission already known? Can it be that I have been tracked?" he murmured, and then as the advancing person had reached a spot within five feet of him he leveled the weapon and said " halt ! " in tones that could not be mistaken." In obedience to the command his confronter stoppe dart from his eyes. "Stella, you talk to John Wilkes Booth, not to a boy!" he said, madly. " Is this your criticism ? Do you advise me to bum this paper and give up my plans— you who have declared that you would die for the South ?" "I do, Wilkes," cried the girl, and her hand fell upon the plnt- ter's shoulder. "I am ready to die for the South; but I am not ready to see you die." Wilkes Booth laughed, "The e-xecration of the North will kill no one." hesaid. "J have gone too far to recede now. I have pledged myself to the South to avenge her wrongs. I have recorded an oath where the record will stand against me forever. You can't turn me back. I swore over the grave of the South's blasted hopes. What is the matter, girl?" Booth's question was (tailed forth by seeing the girl reeling away without a drop of blood iu her face. Springing up he caught her before she could touch the floor. "Speak, Stella; speak !" he cried. The girl's lips parted. "The window, Wilkes, the " Booth turned like a tiger brought to bay, and holding the girl in his arm, glared at the window. What did he see? Pressed against the pane was a man's face, and as Booth lowered Stella to the floor, a name fell from his lips. " Silas Cantwell!" CHAPTER IV. CAUGHT IS A LIE. Thirty minutes after the occurrence just narrated. Colonel Love- lace Opal, a prominent citizen of Richmond, who was colonel by courtesy only, received a visitor, who was no less a person than Wilkes Booth, the actor— not yet Booth, the assassin. The hour was late, verging on toward midnight, and Colonel Opal who, although he kept late hours, was about to retire, open- ed his eyes iu astonishment when he saw his caller. There were traces of some late excitement in Booth's manner, and he attempted to recover his wonted calmness before he His first words startled the Confederate citizen. '■ I have come to say good-by, colonel. I am going to leave Richmond." "Going away, Wilkes? Not before morning, I hope— not be- tween two days." "Between two days, as you call it. Don't you know— no, you don't, for I have not told you what I am going to do. An incident has happened to-night that hastens my departure." " When will you return ?" " When the South has been avenged ! " said Booth, with spirit. Booth slightly lowered his tone, " Do you know Silas Cantwell ?" he asked. " The man on Market street ? Yes, I know him." " Well, I want him out of the South's way before I come back." Colonel Opal's look instantly became a stare. " Out of the South's way ?" he echoed. "Is he " " Yes, he's in it," interrupted Booth. "Stella has discovered a great secret to-night. Silas Cantwell is a member of Lafayette Baker's secret service. He has been si.x month's in Richmond, all the time working for his chief, with whom he has corresponded regularly." "Great Cassar's ghost 1" ejaculated the colonel by courtesy. " Hang me I it I haven't entertained the fellow several times. He plays his part devilish well, if he is a Yankee spy. Hang him? Of course I will ! It's all the way I have of getting even with him for pumping me." " I saw his face to-night. He was at work when I saw it." said Booth. " I at onoe recognized in him an old friend whom I used to call Leon Lennox, which I believe to be his right name. I will not stand between bim and the gallows." "It wouldn't do him any gooa It you did, Wilkes! " cried the THE WA.R LIBRARY. coloner: reaolutely. "If you are determiued to leave Riihiimiiu you cau set out with the assurance that Silas Cantwell, the Yan- kee agent, will be attended to with neatness and dispatch. He'll never get to make his report, or my name's not Lovelace Opal !" "Don't spoil matters by being too fast," advised the plotter. " Unless Silas Cant well, as I chose to call him, is put out of the way at once, the South may never be avenged. I leave all with you, colonel. You know your duty, and future generations will curse you if you do it not." "I shall not fail," was the reassuring reply. "I don't know what you are going to do, Wilkes ; but whatever it is, do it well." Booth's eyes glistened. "Well done it shall be!" he said, holding out his hand. "I pc back to those who will help me carry out my scheme. The great ■ est scheme afoot will thrive henceforward in the shadow of the Northern capital. Listen for news from the North, colonel. The ides of March aie going to be fatal to the modern Cajsar. Don't forget my last injunction, colonel. Attend to Silas Cantwell. He's a poisonous weed that has thrived too long on Southern soil." The Confederate citizen wrung Booth's hand cordially, and fol- lowed him to the door after he had dropped it. " I think if you suddenly call the spy Leon Lennox, he will start end betray himself," he said. "Watch him carefully when you speak the name, colonel. His messenger will never deliver the cypher he started off with to- night I" " Did he send a messenger froni Richmond ?" '' Yes, but don't let that fellow trouble jou. You are to look after Silas Cantwell. The message will never reach Baker." Booth crossed the threshold as the last word fell from his lips, and having again bade him good-by. Colonel Opal turned back into his house. " Hang me, if 1 wouldn't like to know just what kind of a plot Ihat fellow is hatching," he said, to himself. "He doesn't par* ^ith all his secrets, as I discover, although he leads one up to them sometimes. The South has suffered and is to be avenged ; that's the burden of his song. I never thought that Wilkes Booth would undertake a scheme as dark as the one he talks about seems to be. If he would listen to that girl, who would die for him, he could make himself the happiest man in all creation ; but he wants lame — fame! By. love! he may get the rope and infamy, if he doesn't mend his ways. Let me see : what am I to do? Oh, yes, I'm expected to have Silas Cantwell hanged before he gets back. Silas Cantwell a Yankee agent? Well, I don't know. It takes a good deal of grit for a Northern agent to live six months in Rich- mond; but Silas Cant well's expressionless face and cold eyes were not made to be owned by a coward. Wilkes has pitted me against that man. eh ? What are VQU going to do with the job, colonel ?" Before < o/onel Opul answered the self put question, he consulted H well stocked sideboard, from whose contents he selected some liquor, that added a new sparkle to hib eyes. " I am going to obey, Wilkes," he said, replacing the decanter on its accustomed shelf. " I have made up my mind that Silas Cant- well shall never present his report to his chief." This resolve was easily made, although the maker might ex- perience difficulty in carrying it out. Colonel Opal had never married, although his large wealth, and \iot his face, which was not very handsome, had attracted many marriageable ladies. His house was one of the finest dwellings in the rebel capital, and was always open to those who loved the cause almost lost. Colonel Opal knew where the war detective dwelt, for on one oc- casion a few days prior to the opening of our story, he had visited Cantwell at home, and enjoyed a chat with the spy whom he did not then suspect. "Grass mustn't grow under one's feet these times," he said, to. himself, as he selected a revolver from among a dozen weapons, shortly after Booth's departure, "By Jove! it's past midnight now; but what of that? I must lirst find whether Silas is at home, and then I will strike the killing blow. What excuse can I have for disturbing him at this hour '! Ah, yes ; he said when we parted last, that if I received auy communication from Judge Tazewell about that cotton, I should inform him at once. That will do. 1 can fix up a story between here and his house." Ah! if Silas Cantwell but knew the danger that menaced him when Colonel Opal left his own home to spy out his whereabouts at that time ! Would he no\ have shaken the dust of Richmond from his feet and turned his face at once toward Washington? Pope says that ; " Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate." And it seemed as if it » lus i;ot tn be opened to the fearless detec- tive until Colonel Opal's lips had pronounced his doom. To a man who had speut thirty years in Richmond as the colonel bad done, the dimly lighted streets at night did not form a con- fusing labyrinth, and he hurried toward that part of the city where the suspected man had taken up his residence. Booth, the colonel thought, had already started for Washington, and he, the colonel, would do his duty before day. " Therefore, when he halted in front of the war detective's quar- ters, he was quite calm, had a story made up about the cotton in which Cantwell seemed deeply interested, and was eager to bring matters to a crisis. " Here goes for it," he said, in the Toice of a man who has great confidence in his abilities as be seized the bell knob and jerked it sharply. " Is that you, (»lonel ?" suddenly asked a voice in his rear, and Lovelace Opal, wheeling at the question, found Cantwell standing on the sidewalk before him, as large as life. "Walk in and we will talk," he said, unlocking the door and ushering the Confederate citizen into the hall. " A letter from the judge, eh ? That's encouraging." Colonel Opal entered a room with the spy, where a lamp was burning on a table. "These cotton transactions and other matters keep one out late," continued Cantwell, looking straight into Opal's eyes. " When did your letter arrive, colonel?" " To-uight. It came through by the underground mail." " When was it dated ?" "On the third." " This is the ninth. Are you sure of the date, colonel?" " I am." " It was in the judge's handwriting?" "Yes." " Have you the letter with you ? " "No. I thought I had until I reached your doorstep, when I discovered I had left it at home. I can state the substance, how- ever " "Oh, that's not necessary," interrupted Cantwell, with a wave of the hand. " Your letter puzzles me, colonel." "Puzzles you? How so ?" " Because it was written on the third, and Judge Tazewell died on the twenty-ninth preceding it!" • A bombshell seemttl to have dropped at Colonel Opal's feet. There was a derisive smile at the corners of the war detective's mouth, and triumph and defiance in his eye. " Y'es, my dear colonel, the judge departed this life on the twenty-ninth, s" you must have received a letter from his spirit ! " said Cantwell. It was a polite way of telling Colonel Opal that he had lied. For a moment longer the cornered colonel sat in his chair, then he leaped to his feet. "I'll give you a passport to his spirt, then, Leon Lennox I" he exclaimed, and before the detective could lift a hand or leave bia chair, the giant colonel fell upon him with the force and ferocity of a lion. It was a terrible collision, and the two men went thunderously to the floor together ! CHAPTER V. COWING AN KNBMT. The war detective found himself in the oluches of a man who was more than his equal in strength. "Don't you see that I know you?" grated Colonel Opal. "I don't call you Silas Cantwell, but Leon Lennox. You've been hav- ing a fine time in Richmond during the past six months, confound you? I've suspected you all along (which was not true) ; but I bided my time until I had gathered testimony enough to hang i you. My time has come at last. The Yankee detective chief is about to lose one of his ablest assistants, for I proclaim, here, Mr. J Lennox, that you're going to die, sir, before the South sees that last ditch the North prates so much about; yes, sir, your days are numbered, sir!" This intelligence did not have a pleasant sound for the loyal de- tective's ears. He had ceased to struggle, for the ponderous frame of the colo- nel by courtesy was upon him, and one of the Confederate's hands was at his throat, and almost choking him into unconsciousness. " Do you surrender ?" resumed Colonel Opal. "Tou see that I hold the best hand, Lennox. If you give up I'll take my tiger claws from your throat. There! you can talk now !" At that moment Colonel Opal's grip relaxed enough to let Cant- well find his tongue again, if he wished to use that important member ; but for a minute the detective did not speak. " Your action convinces me that you have no letter from Judge Tazewell about the cotton," he said, calmly, looking Opal square- ly in the face. " I would say so myself. I knew all the time thatjthe judge wa» dead. " But thought I did not know it, eh 1" THE WAR LIBRARY. " Perhaps." " You took the risk and lost, colonel," the detective smiled, faintly. " You see I get letters by the secret mail as well as other people. But let us come to other matters. I am your prisoner, if I look at this affair in the same light you do." " I consider you so." " Well, what lire you going to do with me ?" Colonel Opal made no immediate reply. It then began to dawn upon him that he probably had an ele- phant on his hands. He had captured Cantwell In the later's own quarters, and there was no one near to help take the prisoner to confinement. He thought he detected in the prisoner's question a tone of de- fiance which irritated him. " You have arrested me for being what you have pleased to term an agent of the North," continued Cantwell. "That is a bold charge, colonel. I would like to see your proofs. Of course you have not arrested me without something tangible to substantiate the charges you have preferred against me." "Proof?" echoed the Confederate, in a dazed sort of way. "Proof? We'll bring forward enough of it at the right time. I say again that you are Leon Lennox, not Silas Cantwell. By Jove I you may be Maxou, the Tennesseean, for aught I know." Colonel Opal expected to see the detective start at mention of the last name, but he did not. "I must be a man of many names if I am to believe my accus- ers," he merely said, a bit of merriment in his voice. " But a truce to all this ! Since I am to consider myself under arrest, I desire at once to be confronted by the proof of which you have spoken. 1 demand to be conveyed at once into the presence of Jefferson Davis." Colonel Opal started. " Mr. Davis and I are friends," continued Cantwell. "I am at jjresent in his private employ, as I would speedily convince you in an interview. 'Die liour is late, 1 know, and the president has doubtless retired ; liut as your action is interfering with certain work I am now doing for him, 1 demand to be taken to his man- sion iit once." The Confederate citizen seemed staggered at these words. He began to think thnt after all Booth might have been hasty in accusiug Cantwell of being Leon Leuno.\, and a spy of the North. If he was guilty, why would he demand to be taken to President Davis, the highest authority in the Confederate capital, and a man who at that time was very an.xious to rid Richmond of everything not rebel? "Read that, sirl" said Cantwell, proudly, breakii.g in upon liis captor's speculations by flinging a letter upon the table. " As :i true Confederate, as I know you to be, you will not believe 1h:r i,i . Dii\ is hnunell would lie likely to entrust a mission of great importance to the cause to a Northern spy. That letter, sir, is a part of my defence." Cantwell eyed Opal closely, as the latter unfolded and read the letter, which we laid before the reader in our first chapter. He was well acquainted with the rebel president's chirography, and saw at once that the document he held in his hand was gen- uine. When he looked up, Cantwell's keen eyes saw that the mau was doubting. " Come, colonel, confess that you have acted hastily, or < onduct me to Mr. Davis, so that by a word he can sot all your doubts at rest. I'll get my hat and " Cantwell had left his chair in which he had seated himself after rising from the floor, and was moving across the room when Col- onel Opal with voice and spring broke his sentence. " One minute," he said, laying his hand ou the detective's shoul- der, which made him turn, bringing the two men face to face again. " I cannot think of disturbing the president at this hour." "Not when justice demands a hearing?" cried Cantwell, his eyes flashing madly. " Not when a citizen of Richmond is accused of being :•- Yankee spy ? Sir, I go to the president whether you will it or not." His demeanor, so muou like that of a man falsely accused, made Colonel Opal recoil a pace. " Will not 1 5-morrow do?" he asked. " To-morrow ! Were you in my place. Colonel Opal, would you rest a minute under this terrible accusation 7 Think of this. You owe me a chance to clear myself if I can. Conduct me at once to Mr. Davis, or acknowledge that you have taken a hasty and ill- advised step to-night. Out of respect to you I will call it nothing more." " I will admit, Mr. Cantwell "—it was not " Leon Lennox " this time — "that we sometimes go n little fast when reflection would advise a mono judicious gait," said the colonel, coloring. "My hesitancy in disturbing the president at this late hour forces me to acknowledge that I may have acted without sufficient discretion. To-morrow, if you will, I will be ready to secure you the interview "That's not it!" ejaculated Cantwell, almost before the last word had left the Confederate's tongue. "To-morrow is not now. I will not rest under the imputation you have cast upon me. Ac- knowledgment, or an interview. Take your choice, colonel." Colonel Opal bit his lip under his drooping mustache. "My informant may have been mistaken " "Where is he? Confront me with him, if you dare!" " That cannot be done to-night." " His name, then?" The Confederate hesitated. What! reveal the name of Wilkes Booth to Cantwell ? No ; he could not do that; and Booth, he knew, had announced his intention of leaving Richmond that night. At that very moment he might be beyond the suburbs of the rebel capital. Cantwell saw the colonel's hesitancy, and with a sneer that cut the haughty Southerner to the quick, turned ou his heeL "No more!" he e.xclaimed. "This whole thing is a dastardly, put-up job in which I never thought a gentleman of Colonel Opal's standing would take a hand. I am accused, proof is talked about, and yet I cannot be confronted with the accuser. Colonel Opal, this interview is at an end. By Heaven, sir, were it not for the re- spect I entertain toward you as one of Mr. Davis' friends, I'd call you to account for your treatment of Silas Cantwell in his own house to-night." " I beg of you to let the matter rest here," interrupted Colonel Opal. " I assure you, sir, that it shall go no further." "You do, perhaps, but the man who conceived the whole plot?" " I will speak for him. He shall stop where he is." "Very well," said Cantwell, after a minute of apparently sage reflection. " Against my will, I let the matter drop." " And are we friends ?" Colonel Opal held out his hantl. "That depends on yourself," was the reply. The two men touched hands, and the Confederate picked up his hat. Three minutes later the war < the room in which the scenes we have described had taken place. "Thmgs are getting too hot forme in Richmond," he said to himself. "My boldness aloue saved my neck to-night. Wiih oilier men I might not have succeeded so well; but the coloiitl is vulnerable. Ha! don't I know who put him on my trail? He lied when he said he had suspected me all along. He never dreamed that I was one of Baker's men until Wilkes Booth whis- pered it iu his ear since sundown. The fellow recognized me lit the window of his quarters to-night. He called ine Silas Cant- well, but I saw by his look that he knows I am Leon Lennox, and the secret agent of the Union. So you have written Abraham Lincoln's obituary, Wilkes Booth? Ha! I will have you know I hat while I am able to thwart your infernal conspiracy, the dag- fii-r will not do its work. What! Lincoln to be assassinated ou the threshold of peace? No! that shall never be." As Cantwell finished, he donned his hat and changing his gar- ments for others that quite altered his appearance, he left the house, locking the door behind him. He went straight to a dwelling at one of the windows of which he had already startled Wilkes Booth that night. A weird stillness brooded over the scene, and the house itself was shrouded iu gloom. The war detective seemed the only person near, and his figure was scarcely distinguishable from the darkness while he stood on the steps as if he shrank from entering. "I might as well learn something before it is too late," he sud- denly ejaculated, and thene.xt moment he inserted a little piece of pliable steel into the lock. After a few twists he opened the door noiselessly, and crept into the place. Darkness, which could ba felt almost, reigue 1 iu tli j oarridor which he had invaded ; but he found a door to his right. A moment later he stood in the room where he had last seen Booth. Then he took a dark lantern from beneath his coat and cautious- ly threw its light around the room. "Just as I expected," he murmured. "The modern Cassius has suddenly changed his quarters. In other words, I have found the nest, but the bird has deserted it." There were numerous evidences of sudden flight. The table had been cleared of papers, a few of whloh seemed to have been destroyed, for there were numerous scraps among the ancient ashes in the fire-place. "This may prove a mine," remarked Cantwell, bending over the confused mass and beginning to transfer it to one of his pockets. " I'll work on them before I leave Richmond." He did not pause until he held possession of the last scrap, and when he turned to leave there was a look of triumph iu his eyes. " I trust Paul will have no trouble in getting through," he said, hi» thiuiffhts at that moment beine with the young man he had 8 THE WA.R LIBBARY. sent that night to Washington. " Baker will receive Wilkes Bootb with open arms when he gets to the capital !" So saying, Cantwell closed the slide of his lantern and left the chamber lately occupied by Booth. When he reac aed the steps before the house, he locked the door by means of the false key and started off. ■' Hall there!" Thrilled to his very soul, the war detec ive wheeled, with his hand on his revolver, to confront the speaker. " I thought it was you," said a voice, as a figure rose out of the almost rayless gloom. " I want to warn you now, Leon Lennox, that unless you give up your present plans, your life will not be wortli a farthing. Be warned in time. That's all!" The speaker wheeled to depart, but the detective's hand clutched his shoulder. "And I tell you, Wilkes Booth, that unless you put me out of your road, you'll never succeed in your damnable plots!" he grated. The reply was a cold, cutting, aud defiant laugh, and the loyal detective saw the great conspirator vanish, leaving him the sole occupant of the spot. CHAPTER VI. AT WORK IN WASHINGTON. The mouth of February was drawing to a close, and all Wash- ington was preparing for Lincoln's second inauguration. The rebellion was about to collapse, and men were already talk- ing of reconstruction. Gnint was pushing Lee to the last wall, and Sherman having thundere-'> wiiiiloH, in lliffratheiing shadows of night, he relieved theda>; <.f lii-- J oiilh ;iim1 enjoyed the scenes for years forgotten. S. iiiteiisr well' liislhonghta concerning tlicjiast, that he, for the t •■•,.■ being, forgot his sitiiiition, and the danger that faced him u IS kept aloof by tlionghts of Pauline Dupont, found after so long .11 at once Paul started, for something thrown from the street 1 it.il i)ast his cheek, and he turned to see a ball of paper on the Night had fallen over the Confederate capital, and he had Dot 'f a newspaper, but within was a message traced on the Jialf ot a small letter sheet. Au exiiression of disappointment overspread Paul's countenance ■when he found that he could not read the message for the night, iiut he strained his eyes trying to do so until the balls burned in bis linad like globes of fire. "To ask for a light would be to betray ray friend," he said ; "but I must ma^-ter this message!" Paul, in his desperation, searched his clothing well. He had matches when he was captured, but they had been taken from him. A hole in his i)ocket led him to hope that the find would not prove a bootless one, and when he at last grasped a little piece of wood and drew it out, he could hardly repress a cry, for it was the head of a luoifer match ! Paul sprang to oue corner of his prison and knelt down with his »)Hi-k toward the window. Then he drew the bit ot inatc^h along the floor, aud was reward- ed with the appearance of a flame. The message bail been snioolhed ou I before hand, and his eye- were ready to master it. Thereader can imagine the feelings of the young man when he lient to his task. It was not a hopeless one. for iu a moment, as it ■were, Paul with the aid of the match, had read the following: " Send word to Beauregard at once that you will translate the cipher at his headquart«rs. A guard will come for you. There will be a demonstration at a certain alley. Leap away, and run down it to a gate which you will And open. It is your only hope. " A Friend." The match went out and left Paul iu darkness again, just as he reached the common place signature. If ever hej needed "a friend" it was at that very moment, but who was helping him ? The handwriting was not Cantwell's. Was it Pauline's ohirography ? He did not know. " I'll trust my friend," he said, half audibly. "I'll send word at once to the rebel chief. Tearing ihe message into fragments and thrusting them through a crevice in the floor, Paul called one of the guards iu the corridor outside, and cold h:rn that he had decided to translate the cipher. At last, after what seemed hours of waiting, although in reality not more than flfteen minutes haa passed, a commotion in the cor- ridor told him that a number oi soldiers had arrived. When the door opened, the light ot a lantern permeated the room, and Paul was told to step forth, which he promptly did. The detective's messeuger found himself iu the midst of a guard of twelve men, under the command of a lieutenant whose face was sternness itself. He stud not a word to Paul, but instantly put himself at the bead of the little detachment, and ordered it to march. Paul was once more in the streets of Richmona, ready to play his part of the desperate game which had just commenced. The tramp of the guard echoed on the night air as it marched toward Beauregard's headquarters, distant more than a dozen squares from the prison where Paul had been confined. Block after block was passed till the loyalist became uneasy. " In the name of Heaven! where is that alley '^' he asked him- •elf . " Can it be that my friend has failed to carry out his plans ? « he has, 1 shall go back to prison without facing Beauregard." Thii was Paul's resolve, mce further on the lender of the guard was brought ith two men indulging in ii violent quarrel on the the air behind him. face to la sidewalk. • They would not niovn oft at bis commaud, aud suddenly they came to blows and tluu giuppled like mad wrestlers. The guard was forced to hull, and lliene.tt inoinentthe two con- testants were writhing in and out among the .ou fused, soldiers, despite the lieutenant's efforts to (piict Ihem. It was Paul's moment. The scene just described was taking place at themouth of asmall ojieuing which might be called au alley, and it flashed through the young loyalist's brain that it must be the demonstration promised in the mysterious message. "NoWs your chance," ejaculated one of the combatants, reeling against Paid. " Make the break and run for it." Wo need not say that Paul did not want to hear another word. He broke through the ranks of his guard with the force of a stag breaking through the stockades of his pen, and sprang down the alley. Triumph seemed to lend him wings. "The Yankee has escaped!" rang ou " He's got into the alley " "Fire! flre! let him have it, then !" The lieutenant's command was obeyed before it was finished. Bang! bang! went the guns of the guard, as they touched tha soldier's shoulders, and all at once with a cry Paul pitched for- T/ard and fell at the foot of the alley fence. At the same time the two men who had given him a chance for his life, disappeared from among the Confederates. The Confederates entered the alley with muskets reloaded. Thirty yards from the mouth they found a man lying on his face. " Hyer he is, dead as a mack'rel !" The soldiers turned the body over and held a match close to Paul's face, which was flecked with freshly spilled blood. As they raised him up he gasped aud threw a wild look around. " Death will finish him shortly," aid the rebel-lieutenant, after a glance. " There's no use of tak'.ng him to Beauregard now. Take him in yon house where you see a door open. If he lives awhile we'll take him to the hospital. That cipher dispatch, I'm think- ing, will never be read." The next morning at daylight a wagon drove from that bouse, aud Paul Phillips, still alive, and delirious, was taken to the hoi- pital, " that he might die there," some one said. Did he accommodate the Confederates by dying there? We have seen that up to the first of Maroh, two weeks after hit adventures, he bad not reported to Colonel Baker, at WaabingtOD. Whether living or dead his whereabouts were shrouded in mya- tery. CHAPTER X. THE WAR DETECTIVE KEEPS HIS WORD. "Your days are numbered, Silas Cantwell." These words spoken, as we know, on the streets of Washington jn the night of the first of March, reached no ears but those of tbe man who uttered them. The war detective had uuexpectedly turned up at the national capital at a moment when Wilkes Booth had fully prepared to strike a blow that would startle the world. But two days intervened between Cantwell'a return and Lin- coln's second inauguration. Only forty-eight hours stood between the great president and the gates of eternity, for Booth had chosen the fourth of Maroh for his terrible work. If no one baffied him— if his scheme was not discovered— he and bis associates would carry out the most diabolical plot on record. Who could balHe him ? He knew that Paul Phillips and his cipher message had never reached Colonel Baker, and he thought that Silas Cantwell, once his friend, but now his enemy, was out of his road forever, for certain events which assured him this had lately occurred in Rich- mond. He had gathered around him some of the characters who after- ward shared the fate he met after striking the blow meditated so long. Among them was one Payne, a murderer at heart, aod a member ot a family of Kentucky outlaws. This man would stoop to any deed of darkness or violence; he had no conscience; he seemed destitute of a soul. It was he who saw Silas Cantwell when he left Colonel Baker's headquarters the night of his return to Washington; he it was who followed him with the stealthy tread of the assassin, declaring that his days were numbered. Payne knew that with the war detective at the capital. Booth's plot was oQ the eve of failure, and tail it should not if he oould track Cantwell down that nigbt. 12 L'HB WAR LIBRARY. Tbe detective did not suspect that he was followed, fur he pro- ceeded quite leisurely along the areuue, aud did not pause until he reached n small frame house a short distance from the capitol itse4f. For the first time casting about him to see that be was not ob- served by any suspicious characters, he entered by means of a key which he took from beneath the step, and, to Payne's chagrin, Jocked the door behind him. if " I can watch," said the tracker, smothering his disappointment. " He hasn't entered that house to sptnd the night there. Knowing what he does about my master's plot, he bas come to Washington to work, not to rest." The watoher had taken up his station under a large shade-tree a few yai-ds from the house from whence, well hidden by its trunk, he ctouM watch the door for Cautwell's reappearance. His eyes told that he was sure of his victim, aud they did not abate their confidence as the minutes wore away. Not until an hour had passed did Booth's thug show signs of restlessness. What had become of Silas Cantwell ? "I'd give a hundred dollars to he in that house a minute," he said to himself. " He cauuot have lef t it. I have not taken my eyes from the door for a moment. It is not possible— — " At that very momeut the door opened, and a man who did not in the least particle resemble the war detective came out, and halted on the step for a moment. Payne leaned forward and eyed the man with breathless curi- osity. He looked fully two inches shorter than Cantwell ; his face was covered with a thick iron-gray beard as the rays of the nearest lamp showed the tracker, and he looked almost twenty years older than the war detective. " The sleuth-hound in a new skin— that's all," ejaculated Payne, smiling triumphantly as he watched the man. " If I kill you, my good fellow, I put Silas Cantwell forever out of our way. You did deo^vemefor a moment, but I'm on the right track again. Ha! off you go!" The last exclamation was caused by the watched man leaving the step, and when he had proceeded a short distance, Payne sprang after him with the same noiseless, tigerish tread. The hour was not late, and the avenue was thronged with peo- ple; but nobody seemed to notice the thug and bis marked victim, neither did the former lose sight of his man. •' What! does ho know where Wilkes is to be found ?" suddenly cried Payne, as his victim immediatedly started across the thor, oughfare. " I am sure that he hasn't been two hours in Washing- ton, and yet he strikes out for the master's quartei-s." Cantwell, for we may as well acknowledge that the tracked man is the war detective, had slightly increased his gait, and Payne, in turn, did thi; same. All at once he stopped before 'a closed door, which appeared to bar one's way to the upper stories of the building he then faced, and a glance at the number, readable on the transom, seemed to satisfy him. Payne, with excited countenance, was now not more than thirty feet away, breathing hard, and grinding his teeth like a maddened tiger. " How does he know that Wilkes is up there V ho shot out from between his clinched teeth. " What infernal fate is conspiring agaitut us by bringing that man to Washington, when we thought him dead ? He told Wilkes in Richmond thathe'd have to kill him if he wanted to succeed in his scheme against the president. I see that we'll have to do that, for while he lives, Lincoln lives !" Payne had scarcely ceased, ere Cantwell laid his hand ou the white knob at the side of the door, and pulled it toward him. With the blade of a formidable dirk along his arm, he crept for- ward in the shadow of the houses, his eyes fastened on Cantwell, and his whole nature roused to the work he was about to do. Ere he reached his victim, however, the door was opened in re- sponse to the detective's ring, and the next moment Cantwell had crossed the threshold. " That boy Harold's a fool for admitting him I" growled Payne, baffled and chagrined, as he was forced to halt, with bloodless dirk, before the door. "Let them go up stairs first. They oan't keep me out long." He waited a moment, and then softly unlocked the door by means of a night-key, and glided into the dark place beyond. Cantwell, and the person who had admitted him, had disap- peared. " I've tracked him down, and here 1 will wait for him," contin- ued Payne, hugging the darkest corner in the meager corridor, which was the spot behind the door. " To-night, Silas Cantwell' your last hunt ends. " ' Meanwhile the detective and his guide, who looked like a fop- pish youth of nineteen, had reached the landing above, where a dimly burning gas-jet feebly revealed several doors ' ■'This way, sir," said the youth, turning to the left. "You will QriiJ Booth with his company, but, as you know tbe coloHel, of course you will be no intruder." A minute later the speaker opened a door, and Cantwell stepped into a large, well lighted room, which contained two persons. One of these was a large, fine-looking man, with a military beai - iug, and more than fifty years old; the other was tall, elegantly built, with the face of an Adonis, and many years hiscompaiiion',< junior. "Pardon me, Mr. Booth," said Cantwell, " for intruding upon your privacy; but I come on an errand of business, whose im- portance cannot be delayed." Did Booth start while he listened to the detective's words, each one of which seemed to have been carefully selected before hand? " State your business," he said. " This gentleman is ray friend, Colonel Ruby " " Merely a transformation of gems," interrupted Cantwell, fix- ing his eyes on the man in the chair. " In Richmond he was an Opal ; in Washington, however, he shines as a Ruby. " The next instant the chair was deserted ; the portly man was on his feet, his eyes almost starting from his head. "Great God I I know him now, Wilkes," he cried. "That man is Silas Cantwell, the Yankee spy." Booth started forward, every vestige of color driveu from his handsome face, and his eyes gleaming like mad stars. " Not the Silas Cantwell I met in Richmond," he said. " It can- not be the same man, for " " He, you precious plotters buried alive, eh ?" interrupted the de- tective, "lam the same man!" he went on. "What did I tell you when I saw you last, Wilkes Booth?— that you'd have to kill me to succeed. I am here to repeat my words. I am here to tell you that Abraham Lincoln will be inaugurated day after to-mor- row, and that you may swing that day 'twixt earth and heaven for your plots. Beware! I never warn a man twice!" Cantwell, with outstretched arm and still facing Booth, steppeil toward the door. After his last word, one might have heard a feather drop in that room. It was a startling tableau. Suddenly, Booth seemed to regain volition. "Beware yourself, Silas Cantwell!" he cried. "lean lift my finger aud blot > ou from existence, even here in Washington!" The response was a defiant laugh. "Do all you can, fool!" said Cantwell, a moment later. "You are fast digging the most infamous grave ever made on this con- tinent. The fourth of March Is almost here. It shall not see you triumph. Beware!" Cantwell's heels were at the threshold as he uttered the last word and ere Booth could reply he was going down the stair. " I'll make his boast a lie!" vociferated, the plotter drawing a revolver and springing toward the door. "My God! not here, Wilkes! It might betray my presence in Washington," and white-faced Colonel Opal clutched Booth's arm. " I didn'tinvite you thither!" cried Booth. " I know that, but " ' ' Hark ! what's that ? Cantwell has met some one below. ' ' Yes; the war detective had encountered somebody in the little space at the foot of the stair. A figure, half human, half tiger, had leaped upon him with a blade that possessed a gleam even in the dim light that prevailed there. It was Payne. Although taken unawares, Silas Cantwell had met the attack as best he could. " We'll triumph on the fourth of March, after all ! " was hissed in his ears, while Booth, holding his breath, leaned over the ban- nisters above, and watched the struggling figures below. Down came a strength-mailed arm with the last word, but a snapping of steel followed, and something dropped to the floor. The next instant a cry of triumph was heard, and the body of a man fell heavily upon the steps. Then the door opened and shut, and Wilkes Booth bounded down the stair. " Great Heaven, it is Payne I" he gasped, bending over the body in the corridor. Yes ; the man lying before him, gasping and still conscious, was his associate in the darkest crime in history. Cantwell was gone. " Why didn't you kill him ?" asked Booth, eagerly. " I tried to, but curse him ! I couldn't drive my knife through a steel vest!" was the reply, and Payne's eyes wandered to the dag- ger hilt he stiU clutched in his right hand. "But never mind, Wilkes ; we'll triumph on the fourth in spite of him." "No, Payne, Silas Cantwell has laid his plans for our arrest. We must postpone the day. Lincoln shall live through the inaug- THE WA.R LIBRARY. 13 nration ceremonieB ; but tbe detei'tive's triumph shall be brief. We'll plan anew, and, wheu we get ready to strike again, there will be no Silas Canlwell to baffle us." Payne ground liis teeth till they cracked. •' You are the master, Wilkes," he said. " The next time there shall be no failure." CHAPTER XI. AT WORK AGAIN. Thus the great inaugural day was tided over, thanks to Silas Cantwell, without a tragedy to clothe the whole land in mourn- ing, and to shock the world. The war detective, escaping from the toils lu wliich the plotters had enveloped him in Richmond, had reached Washington in time to frustrate Booth's first attempt. Would he be as successful iu dealing with tlin secoud one? We shall see. One of the proudest mtn who witnessed the inauguration cere- monies was the detective himself. He knew that Booth and his co-plotters would shrink from mur- der on that day, since the government detective force was on the alert, and ready to baffle any and all attempts at assassination. He was net sure that Booth was notiu Washiugton, for, although warned that his plans were known, the plotter would be hard to drive far from the capital, especially when he had at his command a score of hding-plaoes of which Cantwell kuew nothing. A week passed away, a week of secret meetings and new plot.", new plans. Tt was the night of the last day of the week following the inau- gural, when a mau dismounted from a horse in front of an old hotel in a well known village ten miles south-east of Washington. He was melon the steps before the house by a youth of fifteen, who took his horse and led him away, while the man pushed his way into the house without announcing his presence by any raps. " Ah I here you are— on time, " exclaimed a woman's voice when the man had shut tiie door behind him. " You are never late." "Punctuality is one of my favorite loves," was the reply, as the man doffed his hat and steiipeU inlu ;i plainly lui iiiilitil room whose lamp instantly revealed him as Wilkes Booth. The woman who followed him into the room was large, well formed, and, though a trifle past middle age, still quite handsome. Her hair was brushed back, displaying a good forehead, and the simple dress she wore lent a motherly charm to her appearance. No one would have suspected at first glance that this woman had plotted with Booth against the life of a president, that the secret meetings of the conspirators had taken place under her root from the Inception of the plot, and that she had trained her chil- dren to hate with her the life of such a ruler as the martyr Lin- coln. That woman was Mrs. Surratt, the village Surrattaville, and the house .Tohn Lloyd's hotel, which, in reality, belonged to the Booth's oountenanoe still showed the deep cliagriii to which Cant well's work had subjected him. He sent several searching glances around the room as he en- tered, and seeing that he and Mrs. Surratt were its only oooupants, he turned to her and said : " Has the new map arrived ?" " It came to-day," was the answer, and turning away the wom- an left Booth alone. For several minutes the doomed young actor stood where he had Drst halted, then he stepped hastily to one of the windows, as though a footfall had sounded on his guilty ears. " A few more days and we will win," he murmured. " Of course we'll all receive the eternal condemnation of the North, but what of that 7 We'll win everlasting fame by the deed, and the un- speakable gratitude of the South, whose wrongs by one blow will be avenged. Silas Cantwell is a fool if he thinks I have seceded from my schemes, an idiot if he supposes his theatrical warning has unnerved me. I am fixed in my purpose, though the outcome cost me every drop of my blood. The die is oast, and Wilkes Booth will never play the coward I" He endpd abruptly, for a footstep announced Mrs. Surratt's re- turn, and he turned to behold her standing near a table with a small roll in her hands. As he advanced toward the table, the woman opened the roll upon it, and displayed a carefully drawn map of the Maryland peninsula between Chesapeake bay and the Potomac river. The various roads were pretty plainly worked, and the mean- derings of the several sluggish streams that traverse the country were indicated by red lines. Booth looked the map over in eilenoe for several minutes before lie ventured an opinion. ; " It's better than tbe otker oae. With that we would lose ouf way." he said, glancing at Mrs. Surratt. "Do you think we can rely entirely on this map ?" " I think we caa. Mr. Lloyd pronounces it quite accurate, and I am willing to risk his judgment." " Very well. I will accept it also; " but," and Booth smiled faintly, " it would not be pleasant for one to lose his way on the peninsula." " It swarms with our friends, you know," replied the woman, quickly. " I have prepared a list of them for you. Tou will find every one faithful; no danger of betrayal by them, I assure you." Booth looked satisfied, but turned to the map again. •' I wish the houses of those friends were located on the map," he said. "That would make things plainer, I think." •' I can have it done." "Theu, have it done. It would please me better. I do not want to make a single misstep in this matter. I have been baffled once, you know." Booth's brow darkened as he finished. "It was the first and last failure, Wilkes!" exclaimed Mrs. Surr ratt, her eyes exhibiting much animation. "The next time we will succeed. But what has become of your enemy ? ' "Silas Cantwell? Ah! Payne is watching for him," said Booth. " I was informed to-day that he has been away from Washington. Payne says that he went south the day after the inauguration. " "To Richmond?" " What would take him thither now ?" " I do not know. I merely asked." "His latew.xperience there would not draw him thither, I'm thinking. He has not followed Colonel Opal home, for that game is not worth Silas Cantwell's time. I wish I had never met that old Fuss-and-feathers. His zeal for the South is apt to overbal- ance his discretion. He doesn't mean wrong, but if he were with me a week, I believe we should he betrayed." " I hope he will remain away," said Mrs. Surratt. Mrs. Surratt roiled the map up again, and was about to oarry it from the room, when a peculiar rap startled both parties. They exchanged significant looks. " Were you looking for any one to-night? " Booth asked, "No." " One of our number is at the door, for the signal has been given," was the reply. " I cannot think who it can be. I left Harold in Washington, and had a talk with Payne ten minutes be- fore I crossed the bridge " " I'll solve the mystery," was the interruptiou, aud Mrs. Surratl left the room, followed anxiously by Booth's eyes. The arch conspirator leaned forward as the door opened, and started when he heard what he thought was a woman's voice. A moment later, Mrs. Surratt appeared, bearing iu her arms a piece of white paper, neatly folded, which she extended toward Booth as she reentered the room. " Only a letter for you," she said. " Who brought it ?" asked Wilkes, as he took the proffered note. " Indeed, I do not know. It was placed in my handji, and a voice said : ' Please give this to Mr. Booth,' and the person who spoke vanished. A cloud crossed the actor's face. " I don't like that," he said, frankly, and with evident displeas- ure. " Did you not notice that the bearer of this note gave our signal? " " I did Wilkes, but pardon me. I have so many things to think of now, I quite forgot my duty." "We must be very careful," was the reply, and Booth's fingers began to unfold the note. He was closely watched by Mrs. Surratt, whoso eyes regarded his face more than the letter. "Look here; another fool at work," suddenly exclaimed Booth, with anger-fiashing eyes, and he flung the open paper upon the table. " Do they think to frighten me with such things as these? Don't they know I have gone too far to take a backward step ?" ! Mrs. Surrat advanced to where the paper lay, and picked it up. One look, and her face became slightly pale, but she kept her equinimity. What did she see? Traced on the paper, which was the half sheet of a billet paper, was a scaffold, from which suspended a sheriff's noose. Under the well drawn instrument of judicial murder were writr- ten these words, in delicate, but distinct, chirography : "Wilkes Booth, the assassin of Abraham Lincioln. 1865." "Letme see that again!" suddenly cried Booth, taking the paper from Mrs. Surratt's hand. "That is a woman's writing. Can it be that she knows our secret?" He studied th inscription for a moment, and then sprang to- ward the door with it in his hand. " It can't be Stella," he exclaimed, "for it isn't her hand-writ- ing. Who, then, sends this to me ? The person who delivered it 14 THE WAR LIBRARY. at the door a minute ago, is both writer and artist. She can't bi' faraway. By Jove! if she's as fair as Psyche, I will not fcesitau- to send her to Hades!" Mrs. Surratt saw him bound across the thr-jshold like a mad- man, leaving her breathless and alarmed in the room. '• Is he mad ?" she exclaimed. " What if one of his old loves ha.s discovered the secret, and threatens to betray iis all? Great Uod ! the deepest swamp iu Maryland would prove no asylum !" .\8 for Booth, he had already reached the open air, and stood near a tree, listening, with his fingei- at the trigger of a revolver he had drawn. All at once he heard the gallopiu;: of a liorae. Nearer and nearer it came, from the direction of Washington. Most certainly the rider's destination was the house he had just vacated. Without stirring in his tracks, the actor-assassin listened to the hoof beats, which scarcely drowned the throbs of his own heart. Suddenly the horse and his rider loomed up before him, and a man lauded on the ground at his feet. "Here I am," said Booth, his band falliug heavily 6u the man's shoulder. " What brings you hither, boy?" Before there was a reply of any kind, the person addressed started as if the hand of the dead had touched him. "By George! you frightened me," he said. " 1 have news for you, Wilkes." " Out with it. Are we betrayed again ? ' " No, not quite that bad," said Harold, Boolha most jpliant tool thioughout the great conspiracy. "Silas Cautwell has come back to Washington, and Vaul is with him." Booth received the tidings with a slight start, which the night kept from Harold's eyes. "The boy, Paul, eh?" he said. " So the young fellow recovered bis reason, and Cantnell went to Kii'hmond after all. Payne, I'm afraid, will find his hands full now." " But thill is not all," said the messenger, waiting for Booth to pause. '• V woman seems to he hunting you." " A woinuii, eh ? Describe her." "She is tall and beautifully fornieut she had failed to catch the conversation which had passed between the two men. Booth did uot choose to relieve her anxiety when he rejoined her in the parlor; on the contrary, he mystifled her still more. " See that the map is ready for use within three days," he said. " There's no telling how soon it will come useful." " Mrs. Surratt gave him a searching look. Nothing about the nocturnal horseman aud his message. If it concerned them and their plot against Lincoln, why should Booth conceal it from her? X sudden resolution showed itself in Mrs. Surratt's mien. " Was the news good or bad ?" she asked. "Oh, yes; 1 had quite forgotten," answered Booth, starting slightly. " It was not important enough to have necessitated a ride from the capital." "Who came?" '*That nervous boy, of course." "Dave Harold! I wish we had never taken him in," said the woman, -bitterly. "He's a chicken-hearted coddling; he will prove ii in the end." " Then," said Booth, smiling, " the world will be better off when he's gone. I think I'll follow him back to the city," h" added, quickly. " There is nothing here for me to do. If Silas Cdutwell should let iiru w.' may have to meet him at once. Yes, I'd better go back." Mrs. Surratt did not try to detain her visitor, and he was per- mitted to depart without ceremony. He went to the stable, found the horse he had ridden from Wash- ington, and sprang into the saddle, like a man eager to reach a certain destination as quickly as possible. But, strange to say, he did not give the horse the rein when he was securely mounted, but allowed him to move off at his own gait, which was not by any means a rapid one. A guilty conscience is always one's most persistent accuser, and Booth's heart must have told him that he was at the head of the blackest conspiracy on record. The blood of Lincoln was to avenge the South, and his rest after four years of strife was to be the dreamless slumber of the tomb! Let us not attempt to analyze Booth's thoughts as he rode to- ward Washington, listening all the time for a footstep iu his rear. What they were is known only by He who reads the thoughts of all men, and by the assassin himself. The ten miles between Surrattsville aud the capital might have been traversed in less than one hour by the horse which carried Booth that night, but something seemed to hold the plotter back. At last, without accident, he reached the river, and the hoofs of his horse sounded on the planks of the bridge. Booth did not hesitate, but gave his proper name to the officer in charge, and passed on. Then for the first time since leaving Surrattsville he seemed to regain his old-time spkits, for he urged the horse forward, and was borne rapidly across the bridge. " Well, I'm back again. Now for work 1" fell from his lips when he fouud himself among the suburbs of the capital proper once inore. " Harold isn't much ahead of me, and I doubt if he has yet tound Payne." Turning to the left Booth soon tound himself on Pennsylvania avenue, but he soon afterward guided his steed into a narrow street, and thence dowu an alley which was quite dark. He knew exactly where he was, for when he drew rein he leaned to one side and opened a stable-door, after which he dismounted. ' and led the auimal inside. Passing thiough the stable without unsaddling the horse in the darkness, the assassin entered a backyard, across which he ad- vanced toward a house, whose outlines were plainly visible. Not until he had c'limbed an outside stairway and entered the house ou the second floor did Booth pause, and then he found him- self in asmall but well-furnished room, whose gloom he had re- lieved by lighting the gas. A breath indicative of satisfaction escaped him as he began to divest himself of the outer coat he bad worn during his journey. As he unbuttoned it something fell to the floor. Booth stooped quickly and picked it up. "That accursed bit of paper," he said, fiercely, seeing the out- lines of a scaffold on the paper. " I thought I had destroyed it. I wonder how it got under my joat? Well, I'll make short work of it now." So saying, he strode across the room to the gas jet, iu which he held the warning until it was entirely consumed. "There!" he exclaimed, stepping back. " Burned papers, like dead men, tell no tales. Now. my dear Pauline, it is my request that you trouble me no more with such documents. There is but one woman beside my mother for whom I care a whit, and she is not near. Stella, ah ! I wonder what has become of you ? Well do I know that you love Wilkes Booth ; that you would give your life to turn him from his purpose. But the sacrifice would avail ; you naught. While I am wedded to the task of avenging the j South, I cannot think of you, Stella, more than for a moment." j He turned away and sprung to the door, but before he could I touch the knob it opened, and he confronted a man. j "Ha! Payne," ejaculated Booth; "how did you know that I 1 was back?" | ' I saw your horse in the stall." " Did you get Harold's message?" •• Yes." "Well?" "I'll attend to it. They're both here," and Payne's eyes glis- tened. "I now know what took Cantwell from Washington. He went to Richmoud to find Paul, who has been delirious in the hospital evirsiuce the Confederate guards shot him the night he attempted to escape. I think he'll soon wish he had not recovered his reason." " Can you attend to both of them ?" asked Booth, eagerly. " I can. Look !" and Payne laid a new bowie knife on the table. THE WA.R LIBRARY. 15 "You see I've exoliauged my broken blade for a whole uiu . i i. next time I will hit Silas Cantwell where steel does uot proteot- him. With that knife I could fight my way through the czar's guards to the throne itself." That terrible knife was enough to make one shudder; but Booth manifested no emotion while he gazed upon it. It was a dirk which had become historical, for with it Lewis Payne afterward cut his way to Secretary Seward's bedside, Not until the big shouldered thug had put up his knife did the men speak agaiu. •■ You may hear good news within the next forty-eleht hours," said Payne, looking at Booth. •• Will you be the bearer of itV" " 1 expect to be," was the reply. " I wish one thing, Wilkes, that Colonel Opal would go home." Booth started, and let an exclamation of anger fall from his tongue. " Is he here yet ?" •• Yes. I had difflculty in avoiding him to-night. He's been hanging around the old quarters. It the authorities would arrest him he'd give the whole thing away, for Colonel Baker could frighten him out of his wits." "Where is he now?" Booth buttoned his coat after the question. " I'll read him a lecture he'll never forget," he contiuued, mad- ly. " I wish I had never met the old fool." " Leave him to me also," said Payne, with a Bignifleant look. " Don't kill him, Payne." '•Oh, I'll not shed a drop of his blood," laughed Booth's associate, his dark eyes twiukling. " I think I know how to deal with the over Zealous old codger. He'll be on the jump toward Richmond before daylight if I can And him, and I think lean." Payne moved toward the door as he concluded, said " good- night " to Booth, and was gone. He was followed by a person whose feet gave forth no sound as they glided over the ground, and that pel-son was a woman ! If Booth hai" known that his right hand man was so closely watched, would he have remained (juiet in that upper room 7 If he coulil have seen that woman's face he would have clinched his hands and leaped upon her like a tiger. He would have said : •' PauliuK, you have followed me to Washington to die! Nobody .ihall baffle me any more." But he dill not see her, and Payne kept on with the tireless, watchful woman at his heels. She did not seem to fear him, and yet she must have known that she was ou a human tiger's trail. CHAPTKU XUl. A \'IROIN'lA liOOD-BY. " This isn't Richmond, boy. This is the old capital over which waves the stars and stripes. You're back in the old quarters we left almost a year ago. Now, when you have rested, we will get to work again. ' "I feel rested now, Leon. I am ready to help baffle Wilkes Booth, or any person who plots against our president. Do you think he still harbors his wild schemes?" "He? There's no telling what is in Wilkes Booth's head to- night. He's possessed himself of the insane idea that the South must be avenged, and that he is the man to deal the avenging blow. He is not aloue in the plot. The man who attempted my life at the foot of the stair leading to Booth's lodgings is a fair- sample of the dejsperate characters he has made his tools. That man is an assassin by nature. Auy jierson who would throttle a woman and row her into the middle of the river, and cast her into the current, would not hesitate to kill a man. Do you think he would, Paul?" "Of course he would not, but who did this miscreant serve in the manner yon have descril)ed ?" "You may learu by and by," was the unsatisfactory answer, as the speaker, Cantwell. the war detective, looked from the window at which he sat. "I i-an assure you, Paul, that it was not Pauline; but I was going on l.isiy about this Payne, or Powell, as he is sometimes called, that Im- will be on the alert for our return tu Washington. He may know already that we have arrived." "Then, you believe that Booth and his friends are still here'i' " " I know it. I had scarcely crossed the bridge to-night ere 1 saw the young fool Booth is dragging with him to the .scaffold— Dave Harold. Of course they're all here. Yon no sooner break one egg of treason than another one is laid." " Do you think they will carry on the same old plot?" asked Paul. -' Yes, with some slight modifications. Booth, I am sure, will at- tempt to take the president's life in person. He will not let any of his associates do that. Work has been laid out for Payne, but just what it is, no one l>eyond the conspirators' circle knows. Wa will find out, though ; you can depend on this, Paul." " I wish we could begin to-night." Cantwell did not reply. He had returned to Washington, but not aloue. Having baffled Booth, and prevented him from attempting Lin- coln's life on the day of his inaugural, he had made his way to Richmond in search of Paul, who had never reached Colonel Baker with the important message intrusted to his care. Cantwell was much attached to the young man, who had served him so faithfully, aud he was, moreover, desirous of having him share in the anticipated triumph over Booth and his fellow plotters. We need not record the war detective's adventures in the Con- federate capital, but will say that he found Paul still in the hospi- tal, and almost recovered from the wound received from the guard, by whom he was being conducted to Beauregard's head- quarters when he attempted to escape. The wounds received on that occasion had deprived him of rea- son for a time, but when Cantwell reached Richmond he was him- self again, and the twain managed to reach Washington without being arrested. Thus it was that we find them together in the detective's old ight that witnessed the events of the foregoing quarters o chapter. "What has become of Pauline — do you know? suddenly asked Paul. "No, I do not, but she will find us, or we will discover her some time," was the answer. The next moment Cantwell started and placed his face nearer the window pane. " Wait for me here. On no account stir from this room till I re^ turn." Before the young man could question him, he was gone. When Cantwell reached the sidewalk, he looked^out upon the broad avenue for a moment, and then hastened toward the White House. " I could not have been mistaken," he said, to himself. " I saw them but for a moment, and my eyes seldom deceive me. What! has Pauline turned tracker in the same drama I am interested in? I used to tell her in Richmond that she would make a good spy ; now I know it." As the detective kept on, his keen eyes saw everybody whom he met and passed. On, on he went, nor paused until the street lamps enabled him to see the trees that grew in front of the presidential mansion. "Halt! Cantwell," ho said, to himself, in low tones, stopping at that moment under one of the trees. "It I am not mistaken, I've caught sight of a gentleman with whom I am slightly ac- quainted." The detective's last words were spoken in a sarcastic manner, while his eyes remained fixed on two men who were slowly ap- proaching him from toward the White House itself. One of the men was six feet tall, and quite portly. The other was not so large, although he possessed shoulders of ample breadth, and looked as strong as a lion. "Yes, sir, you've got to get out of Washington before sunrise," the man last described said to the other. " The whole plot is in the hands of the police. ' "Great God! no!" " It's a disastrous fact, ' was the cold rejoinder. " Colonel Baker has been furnished with a list of names from which to make ar- rests. Somebody's going to swing, I'm afraid, colonel. We've blundered somewhere along the line." "Blundered? Who's blundered?" stammered the giant, who was, as the reader has guessed ere this, our old acquaintance, Colonel Lovelace Opal. " You don't mean to accuse me of giring the thing away?" " Heaven knows who's peached," was the reply. " We're got to fly or swing. You can take your choice, colonel. I've taken "Where are yougoingl" "Me? I wouldn't tell ray mother. You must go, too." "I will." " You must go to-night." "I shall. By George! I didn't come to Washington to be hung." " You were in a good way for it, prowling around the White House. Why, this would bo evidence enough to draw you up." " Great heavens ! I should say it would. I never thought of that. I happened to be strolling along the avenue, and curiosity directed my steps into the park. What's become of Wilkes ?" Cantwell held his breath as he leaned forward to catch the reply. "You don't think he's in Washington, I hope? He'd be a fool to remain here now," were the words that rewarded him. Colonel Opal was silent for a moment. " Do you think I can cross the bridge?" he aaked, suddenly. THE WAR LIBRARY. "ItisBofeyet. To-morrow twill be death to attempt the pas- sage." "My Grod! you chill the marrow of my bones!" cried thecolonel. "When I get back to Richmond, I'll stay at home. I was a fool for coming here iu the first place." "I think so, too." " What's that, sir?" Sashed the colonel, angrily. Payne stopped the Southerner, and faced him with the mein of I' bulying rough. 1 •• I mean what I've said. You've got ti> go South right away. *, .'e want no traitors here. Swear to me on this spot that you will iross the Potomac to-night, not to return without our permis- sion, or I'll apply a remedy that will forever silence your raving Cantwell saw, and (lie colonel did, too, the long dirk that left its hiding place as the last words fell from Payne's lips. The detective prepared to spring forward. "Go to Richmond, or receive the length of this!" hissed Payne, in tones well calculated lo cow even a courageous man. " I am a man of action, as well as words, colonel. I've carried my life in my hands for many years, but you shall not consign all of us to the gallows. To Richmond !" Colonel Opal recoiled a step as the blade gleamed in his face. "I go I o Richmond, but first take this, scoundrel!" he said, and the next sei-ond, before Payne could prepare for what was com- ing, his right hand shot forward with the force of a stone hurled from a catapult. " Now I can go to Richmond with a clear conscience," said the Southerner, gazing for a moment upon the form of his victim. " I never exposed their jjlot. He trumped up a lie in order to get to kill me. By Heaven! I hope the Yankee government will choke him first when it begins to hang. Now for Richmond, colonel. It will be a rainy day when you set foot in Washington again." " That's a sound resolve," said a voice that made the colonel start back. " My God ! who are you ?" he gasped. Cantwell stood before him. " I'm a gentleman who wishes you to keep that resolution," re- plied the detective. " I thank you for the blow you dealt to-night. One of its magnitude was never more deserved. There'll be a big hanging spree here before long unless some human devils are thwarted. Rebel though you are, colonel, I don't want to see you stretch hemp, for I've had some pleasant times with you." " Silas Cantwell!" ejaculated the colonel. " Yes, Silas Cantwell, the Yankee agent, whom you met in Rich- mond," smiled Cantwell. " Go home at once. When that Tillain on the grass recovers he'll want more blood than even you can furnish." " I'm off, Cantwell— off for Richmond." Colonel Opal turned away as he finished, and the war dete<'tive did not detain him. A moment later Cantwell was left alone. After a hasty but searching glance around, he approached Payne, who had fallen in a deep shadow, and lay with his already swollen face upturned to the leaves. Stooping over him the detective searched his pockets carefully, but discovered no papers of any kind. " A murderer by profession, he carries no damaging papers on his person," said Cantwell, relinquishiug the search. "He won't know himself when he consults a mirror. Thanks to Colonel Opal's muscle," and smiling to himself, the detective turned from the spot and walked toward the avenue. He would have smiled just the same if the big Virginian'e blow had kihed the desperado of the capital. CHAPTER XIV. THE QUAKREL. " Thanks to Colonel Opal's muscle," as Cantwell has remarked, Lewis Payne's face presented anything but a handsome appear- ance when he entered Booth's presence the next day and dropped into a chair with a mad growl. At first the chief plotter against the president did not recognize his associate, but the curses which Payne begun to heap upon the Virginian's head served to make him known. Booth ventured the remark that Payne had had a renconter with some one who possessed a good deal of power. "Power? My soul! I should remark!" grated the desperado. " I've been hit by that Virginia fool whom I thought too cowarldv to lift his hand against a boy. He's got a fist like a trip-ham mer. and he knows how to wield it, too. This is what I get for orderin;: him back to Richmond. I asked him to choose between the Con- federate capital and my new knife, and he chose the former; but not until he had knocked me through the whole planetary sys- tem." Booth smiled slightly, and allowed Payne to run on. " Won't I pay him back for that blow, though!" cried the vil- lain, grating his teeth ; " won't I make him wish that he had never lifted his hand against me ! I have not done with Colonel Opal. He will not have to come back to Washington to see me. I'd go a thousand miles to settle with the smasher." " When will you do it, Payne ?" asked Booth. "When we have finished our work," was the reply. "Don*, think that I'm going to throw up our scheme just to get to punish that cowardly F. F. V. Not a bit of it. Ottr work first, Wilkes; then my private revenge." "That's right; but what have youfound out aboutCantwell and Paul?" " Nothing as yet. I suffered with this face of mine all last night; suffered a thousand deaths. I ve been hit before, Wilkes, but never by a sledge hammer at the end of a man's arm. I've not forgotten the detective; don't think so for a moment. I am be- ginning to look presentable again, am I not ?" One eye was still nearly shut, and his right cheek was swollen and wore a dark bluish hue. "By Jove! I could confront Cantwell by daylight and he wouldn't know me, eh, Wilkes ?" he suddenly exclaimed. " I wouldn't advise you to risk it. Silas Cantwell, as they call him, has keen eyes." " We all know that ; but he won't be looking for Lewis Payne with his face bunged up in this manner. I wouldn't be afraid to risk it. Where's David ?" " I sent him across the river on an errand this morning." "To Lloyd's?" " Yes ; why do you ask ?" Payne did not reply for a moment. He took a hasty turn acro.'js the room, and looked out of the window upon the avenue below. " I wouldn't care if he never came back," he suddenly growled. '• You don't like the boy?" said Booth. "Do you .suspect him?" "No, I don't; but he's chicken-hearted," was the plain response. "I don't say that Dave Harold will betray us, but he's not got the grit to face real danger when it comes. He thinks there's nobody In the world like you, Wilkes ; he's learned all your favorite the- atrical pieces just to please you, as he thinks ; but he's a boy whose beard hasn't grown yet for all that. Do you think that Dave Har- old's the right man to be with us in this scheme ?" Booth's eyes flashed indignantly at the plain question. A man whom he had made his confederate had dared to criticise his choice of associates. Booth's haughty spirits were stirred to their depths. " I am responsible for Harold's connection with the scheme," he said, loosing Payne squarely in the face and speaking iu i . ■ . .n.-- of a master. " When I selected him, I asked the advice of nouiic. You may not like him. I cannot help that. Your prejudice may arise from the fact that I did not consult you when he was chosen." "Have 1 saic so/" demanded Payne, madly returning Booth's look with interest. "No; but your words and your manner led me to think so. I have the good of the South ever uppermost in my mind. I first conceived the scheme which I am going to carry out it it costs me all my blood. I have called Harold to my side because I can mould him to any purpose. The fellow is pliable and obedient. I cannot help it that you do not fancy him." " I might take a uotion to withdraw from the plot," threatened Payne. Booth started visibly. What! his right hand man leave him at that important junc- ture? Deserted by Payne, what would not Cantwell be able to do in ferreting out the gigantic conspiracy against the Union ? Booth looked deep into Payne's eyes. He could not believe that the man really intended to desert blm. but he resolved not to yield to him. So he beat down his fears, and said : " You are at liberty to withdraw. I shall attempt to hold no o»>6. I shall reach the goal, if I have to reach it alone." The reply told Payne that Booth's resolution was of the kind that cannot be changed. With a glowering look he moved to the door. " I will not ask you to favor me again," he said, laying his hand on the knob. " You may have to reach the goal without Lewis Payne. I want no boys in a plot with me. This is no foolish scheme. It is the darkest, riskiest plot men ever dabbled in. It is against the ruler of twenty millions of people every one of whom loves him. Think of it, Wilkes. You keep in your employ :i beardless boy while you plot against President Lincoln." Booth was silent. " I don't ask you to change your mind. Once since you left Richmond I saved your life. The whole scheme was on the eve at betrayal, A certain person went to the White House one night THE WAR LIBRARY. 17 and begged to be adiiiitted to LiiiiMilus presence; for what? To give the whole plot away. I happened to be where I oould aid you, Wilkes. That peraou was to have returned the next day, but there was no return. Why not ? Because that night a boat was rowed out into the Potomac, ^nd a human body dropped from It into the current which tells no tales of betrayal. " Of course I thank you, Payne," said Booth. "Now let mehear the name of the would-be betrayer." Lewis Payne did not speak. He seemed to move nearer the door. " Who was he ?" persisted the actor. "No! Tou will not let Harold jro, and I i>an keep my .seoret," was the answer, as the door opened. "Good afternoon, Wilkes. I wisli you success, but you will please excuse Lewis Payne from all future service in the scheme." As the last word died away, the door shut in Booth's face, and the footsteps that went down the stairs told him that Payne, his riRht hand man, was gone. "Let hira go!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I am not going to knuckle to a man like Lewis Payne. I am ready to move to my goal alone, with the avenging pistol in my hand. He is only doins what Mr*. Surratt said he might do iu a passion. She has warned me of lliis outbreak of mutiny. Colonel Opal's blow has mad- denefl li 1111. and he had to take his spite out on someone. He has chosen Harold as his victim, but I will not dismiss the young man, not even it I lose Payne by clinging to him. He will cool down before niglit. He will whimper at my feet again, and beg me to forget this scene. But if he does not, 1 will carry out my schemes without him. I have sworn to kill the man in the White House, and a hundred desertions shall not balk me!" Booth stepped to the window as he let the last word fall from his lips, and gazed down upon the street below. All at once his eyes seemed to emit sparks of fire, and stepping back he snatched a revolver from the table. Then he leaped to the window again and threw up the sagh. At that moment an open carriage, guarded by a little troop of cavalry appeared opposite the window. The occupants of the vehicle were Mr. Lincohi and his son. Tad, on their way to the capitoi. What an opportunity for Booth to do his terril>le work ! But he lowered the revolver which he had suddenly raised against the president, and watched the carriage roll on. "Not now," he said. " A few more days, Mr. Lincoln, aud the imperious North will kneel at your bloody bier." That was prophecy. CHAPTER XV. A TOUCHING APPEAL. Did Payne come back to the ambitions man he had sworn to aid in the blackest plot that stains the page of history? Before we answer this question, let us look upon a scene which should have turned the murderer's feet from his victim, and iiioveellion. There were sc<-rct conferences at night under that roof, maps were exaraim-il, roads traced with the fingers, and questions asked and answereil. What did it all mean? Simply that Wilkes Booth was at work. Not for a single moment had lii> aliaiidone.. tlie wild scheme born into his imaginative brain. Payne, the desperado, had deserted him, but what of that? There were others who hated Abraham Lincoln and his cause enough to help him in an assassination plot. He still had Harold, Mrs. Surratt, and kindred spirits at his beck and call. These were not all. Other persons had been found and drilled in the work he had sworn to accomplish. Hehad f(nindiii Alzcrott, John Surratt, O Laughlin and Span- Kler men to liis purpose quite. Payne only was lacking to complete the-infaraous cabal. Since that villain's withdrawal, the great war drama had been played almost to its close. Grant, the first captain of the age, had forced the army of northern Virginia to Its last resources, and the whole North had been electrified by news of Lee's surrender. As the first gun of the rebellion had been flred in April, that month was also to witness the end. As the first blood shed had crimsoned the grass of early spring, the last and best blood of all was to reddsn the first sweet flowers of the year. What a day it was for the whole land ! The greatest civil war of modern times was over. Already the men who had faced one another for four years were turning their faces homeward, comingback to their old avooations, beating their weapons of warfare into the implements of peace. It was the day for which the millions had yearned, for which the eyes of nation had looked through the smoke of battle. It was the night of the twelfth of April in Washington. Seated in a room, whose windows overlooked the brilliant ave- nue, was a man whose handsome features were pale and some- what careworn. He was the only occupant of the place, as the gas-jet showed, and he had drawn the curtains as it he did not wish to be noticed from the street. He was in the act of writing, when a footfall, just beyond the door that faced him, fell upon his ears and attracted him. "Stella!" A beautiful girl crossed the threshold, with her large, sad eyes riveted on his face. " Wilkes! " she said, "you were not looking for me, 1 know; but I could not remain away any longer." The man— Wilkes Booth— did not speak for a minute, during which time he closed the door, and stepped toward his visitor. "No, I was not looking for you, Stella," he said. "I did not dream that you were in Washington. When did you arrive ?" The girl smiled faintly. " I have been here a longtime," she said ; " almost ever since you left Richmond." Resentment lighted up Booth's eyes. " You have not been watching me, have you?" he asked. " Stel- la, this is not womanly." " I know it, but I have not watched you in the sense of being a spy. Wilkes, you know what I have told you more than once. The strength of giants could not have kept me away to-night.. My God! I dream of the awful vortex lulo which you aie about tr plunge. Yon have not abandoned that terrible scheme; you still move on toward utter ruin, and the everlasting condemnation of the North." Booth started, and recalled the circumstances under whicli he had read the last words to the beautiful being before him. " I court that condemnation," he suddenly cried. "It will not kill a man like me." " But it will blight our future lives. Oh ! Wilkes, you must turn back. The war is over now ; the South submits, aud the Cnufed- frate soldiers even rejoice that the doors of the modern teiuplo of James are closed. Peace willeoon reunite' the sections, aud .-lery- body will bo happy again." Booth looked away as it a mental struggle was taking place in his mind. "Wilkes, Ifc. the future be for us," conlinued .Stella, belit ?ing that she had moved the plotter. "The death of the president you hate will do no good. I plead for his life because I love you, be- cause I have given you all the love that ever animated my bosom. Let your wild oath be blown into oblivion by the winds. Fame and fortune iu other fields are yours. I will rejoice to see the man 1 love the greatest actor on the American stage. Listen to me, Wilkes. Dismiss the men you have gathered about you. Tell them that peace has disarmed you; tell them that the president shall live. Wilkes, Wilkes, will you not do this?" The fair white hand of the girl was on Booth's arm, and liei- eyes were fixed ou his darkeuiug countenance. " By Heaven ! girl, you ask too much, and you appeal to me too late!" heeaid. "Imustgoon. The die is cast. I " A sound like a wail of despair from Stella interrupted him. "There are other loves than mine that appeal to yon— thiuk of them," she cried. "Your mother stands between you and Abra- ham Lincoln, your sister's love appeals " "There!" and Booth pushed the girl away. "Don't mention my mother here. lam not going to be turned from my purpose by such means as these. The South must bo avenged ! The blood of the Northern president shall stain the laurel wreath he wears to-night. Oalhshavo been taken which cannot be broken, and pledges made which hell cannot rive assunder. Girl, you appeal to a heart of stone. You come to me on the very eve of the great work, and ask me to pluy the coward." Stella tottered forward without a vestige of color iu her face. "Is it then too late' Will not a mother turn you back? Will not my love move you from the threshold of infamy and death?" " I shall strike the blow that will compensate the South for her long struggle." " Wilkes, Wilkes " " No more appeals, Stella," he interrupted, coldly. " You must hear me. Oh, God! I cannot leave you thus. The river has given me up for this interview, A hand has held me 18 THE WAR LIBRARY. back until to-night. There is a man on your traok who will uoi let you succeed. You know who 1 mean. Oh, desert the plot be- fore his hand falls. For the sake of the woman who has surren- dered her heart, her all to youi keeping, for the love that has blos- somed only for you, Wilkes " The appeal was not finished, for at that moment the door opened and a man appeared on the tlireshold. Booth saw him tlrst, and his eyes lighted uj) ^ itli a strange pleasure while he gazed. Stella turned slowly upon the visitor. " Merciful God !" arose from her lips, as she tottered back. "Oh, fiend— Bend ! what brings you here?" The next moment, ere the sentence was entirely finished, the beautiful girl fell senseless at Booth's feet. The man in the doorway seemed transformed into a statue whose eyes were starting from its head. "Come in," said Booth to him. "This girl must have met you before, Payne." Payne? Tes ; the thug had come back. CHAPTER XVI THE TERRIBLE MANTRAP. Lewis Payne slowly crossed the Step with his eyes fixed on the unconscious girl lying at Booth's feet. Was this the same person he hart tracked from the White House a few nights before to throttle ami throw him into the Po- lomac ? He could scarcely credit the evidence ot sight, and yet the face was the same. Yes; it was Stella, his lale vicli with his own blood-stained hands be river. No wonder that Payue stared at her as if he saw a person who had risen from thu dead ; no wonder that his eyes almost started from their sot^kets, und that, despite his hardened (character, an icy chill crept to his heart. Booth eould not but notice the mans sudden change of de- meanor. He already secretly rejoiced that Payne liad come back of his own accord. An hundred times had he longed for his right hand man since the quarrel, but he (Booth) was too proud to ask him to return. Payne did not pause until he stood over Stella. Then he slowly lifted his eyes to Booth, who saw that the mur- derer's face was white. ■When did she come?" he asked, with siarcfly a perceptible movement of his lips. " Awhile ago; but why did she faint on seeing you ?" " Hang me if I know," was the quick answer. " I know I'm not good looking, but I did not think I was hideous enough to frighten women into a faint." The speaker smiled grimly, and let his eyes wander to the girl again. " If she can be moved. I'd like to see you for a moment, Wilkes." Payne appeared to have something of importance to communi- cate, and Booth at once stooped and lifted Stella tenderly in his arms. Watched by Payne, the chief plotter carried the unconscious girl across the room and into the hallway beyond. " I have sent her home," he said. "Home?" echoed Payne, starting forward. "Where does she live?" "She would not tell me; she wants to be mysterious. I called a oab and told the driver to convey her to any place she desired to go." Payne showed hia disappointment by his looks. He wanted to know where Stella lived. What for ? To succeed the second time where lie had failed the first, no doubt. He soon saw that Booth was as ignorant of the girl's quarters as he was himself, and so he was forced to give up the luquiry. " You see, I have come back," resumed Payne. ■■ I think I was foolish for quitting you as I did, but Id rathi-r imt discuss that matter, Wilkes." "Very well," said Booth, satisfied to stop wljeie Payne hart ended. " I am glad to see you. You have news : ' "Yes. I have to tell vou that an opportmiiiv :. ai>c).ci to pre- sent itself." Booth did not re!>ly. but his limk requested I'uvne lo pro- ceed. " Lincoln is to occupy the presidents boxat Ford's Fiiiiiiy iii::lil. Grant is expected to accompany hiin. " Is that your news ?" quietly asked Booth. ■Yes." It isn't iien--< to ine. Here;" and he drew a piece of paper friijii ;iu iuiier pocket; " here is a diagram of the president's box, iiiid all iippro;iclies to it." Payue listened, and looked on somewhat amazed. " You see, I haven't been idle," continued Booth. " I am pleased to inform yon that everything is in readiness for Friday night. What have you been doing— watching for Colonel Opal's return ?" "No. That scoundrel is in Richmond, where I can find biin at any time. I've been watching Cantwelland Paul." " Are they at work ?" asked Booth, displaying a little nervous- ness. "I should say they were. You do not think that Cantwell would remain inactive, suspecting what he does ?" " I do not."' " Well, he is at work! Paul, however, is not able to do much. He keeps his quarters pretty constantly, for bis last Richmond ad- venture still tells on his frame. I do not fear liim. Ciintwell is the man who needs looking after. Pauland his nurse are not dan- gerous." " Who is his nurse ?" " Can you not guess?" said Payne, smiling faintly. " It cannot be Pauline?" "It is Pauline. ' Booth started. " I would call her dangerous in one sense of tli.< "-orrt. " lie said, thinking of the paper which had been placed in his hands at Mrs. Surratt's house. " Yes, sir, I call that woman a dangerous person just at this juncture. We must not he balkert this time. Lincoln dies Friday night." " And the others, too. I have the diagram ot the secretary's house perfe- poiutment. Twenty minutes later he entered a liotise wliicU hart two front doors. It was a large frame building, somewhat ar.iiqne in it.s structure, with steep roof, uo cornice, and with weather beaten shutters. The two doors stood so close together that ii hand could scarcely be laid between them. Payne entered the right hand door, over which was barely dis- tinguishable the number, 930. He found himself at the foot of a stair, which he asceiide 1 halt way, and then crouched like a waiting assassin on the steps. The minutes passed rapidly away, but Lewis Payne dirt not move. Who was he waiting for ?— (certainly for some one. At last there came to his ears a sound that made him start. He heard three peculiar raps, but not on the door he had lately entered. They were bestowed on its neighbor, or on door nuinlier aw. Ere the last rap died away, the door was opened, app irently by somebody from the inside, and Payne's hand shot above his head and grasped a rope a little stouter than a bell cord. " Walk right up stairs," came a woman's voice through the par- tition at which Payne was listening with breathless intensity. The person addressed Iiegan to ascend. Payne counted the steps under his breath. One, two, three, four, five, six— seven ! Then he jerked the cord with all his might ! A crash; and a half stifled cry followed the action, and Lowig Payne stood on his feet, his whole countenance beaming with a devil's triumph, his eyes on fire. He did not stir until the silence of the grave seemed to fill the house again. Then he crept down the dark stair and passed into a room to the right ot the meager lauding. There, all at once, amid the gloom that surrouuded him, a human liand fell across his wrist. Payne recoiled, and let slip a startled ejaculation. " It is I, Lewis," said a woman's voice. "The trap worked like a charm. Come and see." The twain traversed the room, passed into another, where the woman picked up a dark-lantern, and they both descended Into a 1 irge cellar. "Here we are! " said Payne's conductor, who was by no mean- handsome, although .she possessed bnlliant lyes. The two stood on the brink of what apiie:inil to be an ni ' ■• . ,, v-liich was immediately under a broken st>iirw:i\. THE WAR LIBRARY, 19 Payne took tli.- hi-iteni fn.iM tli.^ woiiia.r.s liand at:d .~-.:m.l • the abyss. For several minutes he ht^ld it iu a manner tliat threw the t~"- downward, and used his eyes at the same time. "I can't see him, but he's there all the same, lone," he said, Hsing at last. " It's good by torerer, Silas Cantwell. The slyest fox will get into the trap at last. We will not be molested Friday uighl. Xow for the covering, lone." Setting the lantern down, Tayne began to carry heavy pieces of wood from one corner of the cellar. These he threw down the well one by one until not a piece was left. "Buried fowver!" he laughed. " The river may giveup itsdead, hut my man-trap,, never! This, Silas Cantwell, is the triumph ot Lewis Payne!" CHAPTER XVII. THE EVE OF DOOM. Everything seemed iu readiness now for the consummation of the great plot. Silas Cantwell, Booths once friend, but persistent watcher, had been put out of the way, and Lewis Payne, who had sharpened his dirk for Secreiary Seward's heart, could assure the chief plotter that he need fear the war detective no longer. The war detective, with Paul, had determined to follow the trail to the end, without the assistance of any one. He felt himself able to cope with Booth and his associav<"s, but late events have demonstrated that he had failed to do so. On the night of the thirteenth of April, or the night following the thrilling event detailed in the foregoing chapter, the last meet- ing ot the presidenticides toolc place at Mrs. Surratt's house iu Washington. They were all there, and for the last time thedreadful crime was calmly discussed, and the final orders given by Booth. (.)u the table lay a map, dotted here and there with little red lints, under each of which was a name. T'l-sM were the houses of "friends" on the Maryland peninsula, and John Surratt had marked them all. Even the roads which Booth was to take after the assassination had been traced in red— a color terribly appropriate for the crimson trail he afterward made from the nation's capitol. The conference broke up late, and the conspirators stole from the house, and departed their several ways. Booth's step that night was light, even elastic. He did not fear Silas Cantwell any longer, and he had even for- gotten Pauline, who, Payne said, would be kept within doors by Paul's illness. He had tried to win her love, but she had repulsed him. Unlike Stella, she had refused to fall in love with his handsome face and winning voice, although she had treated him in a friendly, respectful manner, until she began to discover that he had evil designs against a great man's life. "Hello!" exclaimed Booth, hailing in front of one of the promi- nent hotels on the avenue on his way home from the last conclave. "There is Brady, by my life! " and in he went, to slap a tall man on the shoulder, with a "Hello, old fellow!" which was immedi- ately returned with a friendly greeting. Brady was a colonel iu the Potomac army, and had but lately arrived from the front. "We'll all be there presently, Wilkes— two hundred thousand of Us," said the Union ^^0 oi e.. " Your friends, my dear fellow, have reached their last ditch." Booth's irieudliness toward the South was so well known that his intimate :riends never hesitated to jest him about it. On this occasion, howerei the actor-assassin started, and while bis brow suddenly darkened for a moment, his eyes seemed to snap triumphantly. " All of them have not found it yet, colonel," he said. " It may lie on this side of the Potomac for the other party." These words were spoken with a significance that brought tlieui forcibly to Brady's mind a few hours later. " I'm sorry for you, Wilkes, iudeed I am; but when the rash states have been reconstructed, you can star through them and draw immense houses." " I'll draw big before the week's out." " Do you play in Washington ?" "Yes." "When?" "To-morrow night ! But come, colonel, let us drink a bumper to the events of the last few days. I'll be generous with you. I'll drink to your successful return from the pomp and circumstance of war," and taking tlie ()fli<'ei's arm. Booth led liini to theelegant bar-room ot the hotel. What terrible words he had lightly spoken. Yes, he was going to play on the following night^a drama whose equal the world had never seen, From the hotel, where all who saw him remarked his gaiety on I he ruins of the lost cause, he went to his lodgings and penned a few letters. Iheclocks that struck midnight sent their sounds to his ears, tor his pen was still moving over the paper. Morning came. At twelve o'clock Booth entered Pumphrey's stable In the rear of the National hotel, and engaged a fleet bay mare, saying that he would call for her toward evening. " I've got the best horse in Washington," he said to a young man who awaited him in his room on his way back from the stable. " Your horse is also a good one. There's got to be some good rid- ing done between this and daylight to-morrow, for David, uiy boy, we'll have the whole North at our heels." At four o'clock that same day Booth reappeared at Pumphrey's stable, and took the mare he had engaged at twelve. Mounting the animal, he cantered up F street, thence mto an alley between Ninth and Tenth streets, and finally pulled up at a small stable off an alley near the one leading to the rear of Ford's theater. "This is the saddle nag i have recently purchased," he said to a man whom he found at the stable. " Isn't she a beauty ?" "A splendid animal, Mr. Booth," was the reply. "Of course you want her unsaddled " " No • stand her in the stall just as she is," was the interruption. " She will be wanted to-night." From the stable he made his way to a neighboring drinking re- sort, where he met, as it by accident, a man who gave him a mean- ing look. The twain ordered drinks and passed into a small apartment where they sat down at a table. " Any news since last night ':'" asked Booth. "Yes." The chief plotter was instantly on the alert. " Out with it ; there are no listeners here." The man, who had darK eyes, a somewhat swarthy face, andl broad shoulders, leaned over the table. " I've discovered where Stella lives," he said. Booth looked disappointed. "Is that all?" The listener, Lewis Payne, bit his lip. " You might not speak so careli'.ssly it I told you something," he snapped with spirit, looking into Booth's eyes. "What do you know? Goon.' Payne did not hesitate. He knew that Booth could not spare his services at that stage of the game. So he said bluntly : " I tried to kill that girl a few days since." "You did?" "Yes." "What for?" "She tried to get an audience with Lincoln." "To betray me?" "To save your life, she said. ' " I understand, and you " "I threw her into the Potomac," interrupted Payne. "Some- thing had to be done. How she ever got out, I do not know, but I believe Silas Cantwell had a hand in her salvation." Booth did not speak until he had gulped down the contents of the glass before him. He seemed to feel at that moment, and never until then, the depth of Stella's love. She would have put Lincoln on his guard, and by doing so, ex- posed the plot enough to force him. Booth, to fiy tor his life. Thus she hoped to save the man who fascinated her. Payne watched Booth closely while he communed with his thoughts. What would he say when he spoke again ? « Would he send out an order for Stella's death ? "Where does she live?" he merely asked. ' "Number — (' street, second floor." Booth arose. "He is going to see her," said Payne, to himself. "By Jove! I'd like to hear that last interview." The two men were about to leave the room. " Forget nothing," whispered Booth. " To-night we win or die. " • Let come what will, I mean to bear it out. And either live with glorious victory. Or die with fame renown'd for chivalry '. He is not worthy of the honeycomb. That shuns the hive because the bees have stiiigi.' "To-night, Lewis, we stake our lives on the sleru throw of the dice, to-night we widow a mighty people." Booth passed from the place, and wjilked rapidly way. The trees were casting long shadows down the avenues, but the actor-assassin saw them not. THE WAR LIBRARY. light, or i He paused at last before the house on C street, meutioin-d by Payne na being Stella's abode. At eight o'clock he was seen again. This time he was looking into a private box on the stage ol Ford's. He was ready for the great crime. CHAPTER XVIII. ASSASSINATED True it was that the blow was about to fall. It is not our intention to tell too minute particulars the story of that awful Friday night. History has recorded it on her darkest page, and it has been re- told throughout the land ten thousand times. The memory of that night lingers like some horrid nightmare in the iniuds of many who are living to-day. The awful report "The president has been assassinated!" still rings in the ears of thousands who heard it that ni first fair flushes of the following day. Wilkes Booth was to play his damnable drama to its close. He had rung the curtain up on the flrst scene ; death was to ring it down on the last one. We left Booth at the close of the last chapter standing among the wings of the stage attached to Ford's theater. He had selected a spot from whence he could look into the presi- dent's oox, which was adorned with flags because of the crowning triumph Grant had lately won. It was exptcted that Grant would attend the theater with the president; but the great commander had been called from the «ity, much to the disappointment of the enthusiastic audience as- sembled to greet him. For several minutes Booth watched, as well as he was able, the oc- cupants of Lincoln's box, who were, besides the president himself, Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Harris, and Major Rathbone, of the provost- general's ofBce. After awhile Wilkes Booth disappeared, having been noticed by no one, and the curtain rose for the play, which was "Our American Cousin," with Miss Laura Keene in the most prominent role The house was packed from pit to dome by one of the most bril- liant audiences ever seen in Washington. Who, of all that vast assembly, dreamed that a tragedy was to be enacted instead of the advertised comedy? Not one. Those who could look into the president's box from their seats saw a smile flit now and then across the wan, careworn face of the ereat man. Well might he appear happy now. A mighty loud had been taken from his heart. He siood no longer amid the smoke of civil war. It had all rolled away, showing him the dawn of a peace which he hoped l)y moderation to make eternal. At the iH-ginning of the second act a man entered the stable where Booth had left the fleet-footed mare during the atter- A fe« This raau was John Spuugler, one of the scene-shifters. " When I o wn< liuskv when he spoke. " Great God I" he said. " Payne did not kill Sila* CantweU. is out there!" said the murderer, shutting teeth the window that H» they could get and dis- CHAPTER XXI. THE TRAIL, GROWS HOT. Wilkes Booth had not mistaken his man. Silas Cantwell was hot on his trail, and already the gallows noose dangled before the assassin's eyes. He did not know that with the acumen of the natural born detec- tive, Cantwell had tracked him from Washington to Dr. Mudd's, where he had examined' the mutilated boot, bloody inside and bearing the tell-tale legend, "J. Wilkes," that from thence he had trailed him to Coxe's house, and now felt certain of his prey. Booth, after his last exclamation, did not speak for a moment. "Silas Cantwell shall never see me swing for my shot in Wash- ington," he said, in the resolute tones of a desperate man. " I don't want to spill his blood, but he will force me to do so iu self- defense. Get your revolver, boy." " I have it here," answered Harold. " What is to be done ?" "We must rid ourselves of the man out yonder; we must not fail as Payne did." ..,.,.,_,, Booth glided across to the window, and parted the fadeil cur- tains again. Eagerly he peered out, but the shade of disappointment that crossed his face told that Silas Cantwell had disappeared. " He's gone," whispered the assassin, to his white faced dupe. "He has crept away to weave the meshes of doom for us." " Do you think so ?" Booth turned quickly upon Harold and a derisive laugh rippled over his lips. .^ ,,^, „ »,_• . "What! weakening already?" he said. "Come, Dave; this is the hour for courage. No faltering now." Harold tried to brace up, but with a contemptu turned his eyes away. , . ,_ The next moment the door at the men's right opened Quick as a flash Wilkes Booth whirled upon the intruder. "Halt!" he cried, raising the revolver. Did he think that Silas Cantwell had found him at last? " It is I, Wilkes," said a voice that caused the weapon to be low- ered immediately, and a man came forward. It was Coxe, the rebel, and his face, seen in the dim light, told the hunted men that he had some important news to communi- cate. " There's a man out there," he said, i " I know it," replied Booth. " It is i " Who's he?" " The last man I want to encounter. Where is he now i " He has crept off toward the barn." " Could you find him ?" "I don't know." It was evident that Coxe was not anxious to make a trailer out " While that man lives we are all in danger," continued Booth. " I'm not able to follow him, you see. 1 can't move without the aid of this crutch. I guess we'll have to depend on you, Coxe." "Then by heavens! I'll find him," blurted Coxe, bravely. "He shall not leave these premises alive. You men can go to sleep if you wish. Silas Cantwell shall never report to anybody." look. Booth ith a THE WA.R LIBBARY. The door closed on the burly figure of the Maryland rebel, and the a^assin looked at Harold much relieved. An hour passed away, hut Co.xe did not return. Of course the fugitives did not sleep. Booth sat on the edge of the bed with a cocked revolver in hia hand, and with every sense on the alert. He looked like a jungle tiger surrounded by his hunters, or like a wolf brought to bay. " Not a word was heard in that house until long after midnight All at once a slight noise drove the two men to their feet. " (iet ready, Dave," said the assassin. " No surrender ! Kill as many as you can belor you die." But the noise had not been made by the foot of a foe, but by Coxe himself. The man crept into the room. "By Jove! I've worked hard," he said, before Booth could question him. "I've been to the river, which is ten miles awav. There will be a boat ready for you at daylight. You can cross in safety. Beyond the Potomac you will find friends, of course. I will give you all the directions you need." "What about Cautwell? Hang the boat!" cried theimpatieut Booth. "Have you settled that human bloodhound?" "Oh, I couldn't find him," said Coxe, "so I went after the boat." Booth's jouutenance fell. " Must we Uy, then ?" he asked. " Indeed you must. Ton are not safe this side the j-iver." * We will go, then ; but the journey must be made before morn- ing." " Of course. You can't get to the river in the daytime. I'll get everything ready." Once more the fugitives were left alone in that gloomy room. Neither spoke a word. Did Booth believe that the hunt for him would soon draw to an end? If he did not think thus, why did he grate his teeth whenever he glanced at his swollen and bandaged leg ? Just before daylight, Coxe returned, and announced that every- thing was in reaSiness for the journey to the Potomac. Horses were found saddled at the rebel's door, and the three men mounted and rode away. More than once Wilkes Booth glanced over his shoulder, and tried to pierce the dark shadows they were leaving behind, as if from them he e.xpHcted to see the war detective emerge. Silas Cantwell dirt not show himself, however, and the men reached the river, wLei e they hid themselves until the boat should arrive. Coxe went to a certain plai-e along the bank, inspected it for a moment, uttered an oath of disappointment, and went bad' "No boat yet," he said. Booth bit his lip. No boat, and daylight was near at hand ! Not until the mornmg of another day had dawned did the man who was to furnish the boat make his appearance. He tied the boat he brought by a stone anchor, and went away. "At last, thank fortune!" ejaculated Booth, when told that the craft was ready. • We will now put a river between us and the Yankee beagles." All three crept down to the water, and Booth and Harold en- tered the boat. They bade Coxe good-by, and Harold's arms sent the craft spin- nine toward the middle of the Pwtomac. "We're going to outwit them!" exclaimed Booth, in good spirits. "The heart of the Confederacy will soon harbor us, boy, and the hero's laurels will be ours." Harold smiled, faintly, and bent himself to the work before him. The boat rapidly approached the opposite shore, and when Booth stood on dry ground again, a cry ol exultation broke from his lips. He drew a small map from an inner pocket, ;iiirt consulted it closely for several minutes. "Come!" he said, suddenly, to his companion. -Tv" got ray bearings now." At that very moment the circle of doom was contraitiug about him. Colonel Baker's men were at work. They had set out from Washington in high spirits, and their chief's judgment was leading them aright. A number of days had passed since the awful tragedy at Waslu ington. Payne had been arrested, Mrs. Surratt had fallen into the hand< of the authorities. Atzeroth, the man who was to have assassinated Vice-president Johnson, had also been apprehended, and Spangler, Arnold and a score of lesser conspirators were in prison. John Surratt had effected his escape, deserting his mother tc the gallows. The whole North was filled wit insane shot. The martyr president had been borne from city to city, and thousands had dropped their scalding tears upon his peaceful face The flag, victorious at Appomattox, hung draped on its shatter A world knelt grief stricken at Abraham Lincoln's bier, ami America, like Rachel weeping for her dead, refused to be comfort- ed because he was not. Let us return to the Maryland trail. It was night when a company of about twenty-five Union troops rode into Bowling Green, the old-fashioned court house town of Caroline county. The soldiers were under the command of Lieutenant Dougherty, and the two detectives with the squad were Lieutenant-colonel Conger and L. B. Baker, cousin to the chief of the secret service. These men were hot on the trail of Booth, but there was one man who had tracked him just as well. " Do you want Wilkes Booth ?" asked a man, appearing sudden- ly to Conger in the weary watches of that night. Conger started, and saw before him a well built man, apparent- ly fifty years of age, and attired in very plain and well woni farmer clothes. " What do you know about him ?" ejaculated the detective. ling, the result of Booth' " A good deal, perhaps." "Then out with it." " Well, I know where he is." "Who are you?" " Lennox, " he said. Conger seized the speaker's hand. " And you know where he is?" "I do." "Then let us finish the hunt." Three minutes later the little company moved out of BowUng "Hold!" said Cantwell, just before the start, " there's a rebel captain at the hotel who knows where Booth is." " Rout him out," said Dougherty. , ,, ^ This was done, and a half-dressed Confederate oaptam who had taken the crippled Booth on his horse a day or two before, was confronted by Yankee carbines. " Where is Wilkes Booth ?" asked Conger. " You'll find him at Garrett's," was the reply. " To Garrett's, then !" was the cry, and away went the trackers with twenty-five thousand dollars reward to urge them on CHAPTER XXI 1. THE assassin's DOOM. A Short distance from the main road, leading from Bowling Green to Port Royal, stood a plain old farmhouse, which, at the time of which we write, sheltered a family named Garrett. The front of the house boasted of a long porch of old Virginia style, and several half human windows glared keenly at passer* Near this antiquated structure stood a barn, showing marks of age and the mark of storms, and nestling close to it were a number of small corn-cribs and deserted cattle-sheds. The dwelling-house was surrounded by locust trees, but the barn had none to shade it from the sun's hot noonday glare. Before this old farmhouse, at two o'clock in the morning, Wilkes Booth's tin-less trackers gladly drew rein. In the omiiiinis silence that precedes the break of day. Baker, the detective, approaili'-rt (he house and rapped on the door. "Open up, here!' he shouted; "we want to see you, Garrett!" In response to his voice, an old man scantily attired, opened the door, and Baker's hand flew at his throat. "Where are your guests?" demanded Baker, at whose side stood Silas Cantwell. "Speak the truth, old man, or lose your life!" Old Garrett's teeth chattered ; he shook from head to foot, but did not speak. " Those men— we want them. Be quick !" flashed Baker. A revolver looked into the farmer's face. "They ara not here; they have gone— I don't know where," he stammered. . , ... "That'sa lie!" grated Silas Cantwell. • Scatter his brains, lieu- tenant!" At this juncture a young inau put in an appearance from another part of the house, and he was immediately seized by the Union men. A quick glance passed between old Garrett and the young man. " Father," said the latter, "let's tell the truth. I think it will be for the best," and then he turned to the inidnisht visitors: " Gen- tlemen, the men you want are in the barn. They went there to sleep." That was information enough, and leaving old Garrett at the house under guard, the men-hunters turned toward the barn. The old trap was speedily surrounded by the troops, who were dismounted for the purpose, and stood at regulai: intervals around it. Baker stepped forward and listened for a moment. He heard a rustling of straw on the inside. They had reached the end of the trail at last. Having listened for a moment and made out the movements of two persons. Baker called out: " I have a proposal to make to you men in there. I will send in to you voung Garrett. Either surrender to him or see the bam flred. We shall take you alive, or have a shooting match with our carbines." There was no answer. It Baker could have looked beyond the weather boarding of the barn at that moment he would have seeu the face of one of the in- mates grow pale, while the eyes of the other flashed madly. " Wilkes, they are too many for us," said the pale faced youth. " Hadn't we better give up the fight ?" "What! surrender?" was the quick response, like a serpent's ■ "slik - ■ - ■ ike a dog ! Don't mention sur- side. " Here is Garrett," said Baker, who had unlocked the door of the barn by this time, and a moment later the farmer's boy was pushed inside. "You've got cheek to come here," cried Booth's voice, in bitter tones, as Garrett confronted him. " Get out of here ! You have ( betrayed me! I'll kill you if you remain!" Fearing for his life, John Garrett crept back to the door and was let out. Booth now stood among the hay leaning on a crutch, and arraed with a revolver. A look of stern determination lighted up his mad eyes. He*mn8t have realized in that thrilling moment that the end wa» " I wonder if Cantwell is out there ?" he muttered. " I'd like to 4rive a bullet into his brain first. I oould die then !" He started forward, but stopped suddenly, and then shrunk from \he cracks. All at once the gleam of a candle dazzled his eyes. Then he heard Baker's voice: " You must surrender in there," the detective said. " Pass out your firearms. There's no chance for you. We give you five viinntes to decide." " What do you want with us?" asked Booth. ' You know very well." 24 THE WAR LIBRARY. " Is Silae Cautwell out there ?" he asked. The war detective answered for himself. " I am here." As Booth went back to his old post an oath fell from his lips. " We've waited long enough on you, Booth," said Baker. "If you don't surrender, we'll Are the barnl" " Withdraw your forces one hundred yards from the barn and I will come," was the reply. " Give me a chance, captain. I will never be taken alive. I am ready to die. Get ready a stretcher forme." A hand fell on Booth's arm as he tluished. "There are no hopes, Wilkes " "Silence!" thuudered Booth. "You are a coward, Harold. Payne said you would shrink at the last hour. Get away from here. I'll die without you. Go!" Then Booth shouted to the men outside. " Here's a coward who wants to surrender. Let him out." Harold had already glided to the door, and was waiting to be taken prisoner. He was soon gratified in this desire, and Booth was now the sole occunaut of the barn. Colonel Conger now took the candle and touched its name to some straw which he drew from a crack. The nt'xt moment the flre shot toward the roof, and a curse came from the man inside ! It was a fearful scene. Higher and higher leaped the angry flames, as it eager to en- velop the assassin^s last retreat in speedy ruin. The soldiers and all outside looked wonderingly on. They saw the interior of the barn, as the flre made progress; they also saw Booth drawn to his full stature, calmly awaiting his merited doom. Silas Cantwell moved forward and put his eye to a crack. That instant. Booth caught sight of his persistent foe. " You 11 go before me, Silas!" he hissed, creeping forward, his eyes on tire, and fixed on the detective's face. He had exchanged his levolver for the carbine whicli HmuM had carri'-d from Lloyd's hotel, at Surrattsville, and his finger was at the easy trigger. Did Cuiitwell see him 1 Ko ; tht' tire raging around Booth obstructed his v He would send another soul ahead of him into eternity, and that soul sliduld be t'.int well's. He saw only Silas, not the dark faced, Puritan-like soldier who was covering liim with a carbine. "Now, Silas, for hell ahead of me!" he cried. The next instant a loud report rose above the crackling flames, and the inaguidceiit figure of Wilkes Booth, toppling forward, fell heavilv to the floor! B.iston Corbett's bullet win in his brain! A loud shout followed the shot, the barn door was jerked open, ai' ' th. hreathi.ig carcass of the assassin dragged forth. They laid him on the grass in the glare of the burning barn, and gave him water. After awhile the soldiers carried him to the old farm-house, and l»id him on the porch. There the whole ci'owd gathered around him. For awhile the assassin's eyes wandered wildly, then they be- came tlxed on one man— the war detective. Silas Cautwell approached and bent over the murderer. Booth tried to speak ; he wauted to say something about Cant- well's persistent hunt, but he had not the power. Suddeulv his fiead fell back, the death gurgle sounded in his throat, and with his eyes fixed triumphantly on Cantwell, he mut- tered : " Useless— useless," and died ! Yes, useless had been his life, and the shot he had fired to avenge the Confederacy had killed more than one. Silas Cantwell looked down into the murderer's face a moment and turned away. There seemed a glitter of victory in the war detective's eyes. He had keps his word. He stood at the end of Wilkes Booth's crimson trail. In a saddle blanket they sewed him up, making it his shroud, and shoved the corps into an old negro's wagon. Wilkes Booth was going back to the scene of. his crime — to Washington. Retribution had followed him without a moment's rest. Vengeance guided by justice had tracked him down. Harold rode behind the corpse of his friend and master, guarded by Union cavalrymen. He was riding to the gallows. Silas Cantwell entered the capital with tin l.i..l\ uf ISooth. The excitement was intense. " I wonder what Payne will say when he seis me ?" said the de- tective, to himself. " He doesn't dream that I escaped from his man-trap. I will appear to him like a ghost, but first I must see Paul and his friend, and Stella.' Stella V Yes the girl who Inid given her heart to Wilkes Booth. CHAPTER XXIII. the step o\ the humble house on C street where Stella had lodgings. In response to his knock the door was opined by a woman who told him that the person he sought was up stairs. The w;ir detective mounted the stops almost noiselessly, and rapped at Stella's door. There was no responsf . After waiting a nioinent and then rejjeatuig the raps with the same results — silence — Cautwell pushed open the door which stood * Li"-ht enough came in at thewindow^to show him the figure of a woman bent over a table In.themiddle^the room. The girl did not look up ; she did not move. Somewhat uonplussed, Cantwell leaned forward and touibnii her form. It was cold ! A nameless thrill shot through the war detective's frame. He raised Stella's head— raised it reverently, and saw in lu-r beautiful eyes a stare that told all. Stella was dead! For a minute Silas Cantwell gazed iuto the pallid face, never seeing the folded paper that lay where her cheek had touched the table. Whe,n he did see it, he eagerly snatched it up. "That handsome face of Booth's did it all," uMinunred the war detective, finishing the letter with a sigh. ' Your lust requout shall ne obeyed, poor child." A brief .search revealed an empty phial. It lay on the floor at Stella's feet, and words— ' prussio acid " on the label told the story of the end. Cantwell went down stairs and told the woman thereof his startling discovery. Need we say that tender hands arrayed Stella for the grave, or that pitving tears fell upon her sweet, cold Jiiee ere it was laid awav forev.i ? " Come! you and I," said a man, to Silas Cantwell on the twenty- seventh of April. " You want to see the end of it all. Then, come with me." '' The war detective and his chief took the bodj- of Wilkes Booth and bore it— not out into the Potomac, as it was supposed, but to the old peneteutiary, near the arsenal grounds. There they found an old cell filled almost with rusty ammuni- tion. The cannon-balls had not been disturbed for years. The two men removed some of these; they took up the fiag- stones, and dug a grave by the light of their lantern. When the pit was finisheil, tiiey lowered iuto it the liody of thii a<'tor-as8assiu, and cover d it with earth. "Ah!" suddenly said Cantwell, looking his last upon thegrave ere he left. "It Payne had not sprung his mau-trap upon me, Lincoln might be alive and Wilkes Booth not here. I caunot tell you my thoughts, colonel, while 1 hung alongside that pit under the stair feeling the huge blocks of woods graze my head as they came down ; bnt I think I swore to live to see the end. I laid for hours delirious in that celler before Pauline found me, and after all, Payne's trap did not save Booth. Neither will it save his neok." " Why did you go to that house?" asked Baker. "I was a fool. It was the great error of my detective life, but we must all make one mistake, I suppose. I got a letlei—a wom- an's letter— telling me that an invalid there could and would tell mo the whole plot. I swallowed the bait. I went; the stairs gave way beneath me. I was caught in Lewis Payne's man-trap," and Cantwell finished with a smile. We might closeour romance here if the reader did not expect ua to follow the other conspirators to their doom. They were all captured. Mrs. Surratt, with Payne, Harold, and Atzerotli were executed at the same time from the same scaffold. Just before the execution Payne was observed to start and utter a low exclamation of terror. Below the gallows stood a man, with folded arms and triumph- ant look. Payne had just encountered his glance, and, as if a ghost had suddenly confronted him, he recoiled, turned pale, and gasped. Then he knew that his man-trap had failed to kili; tbatSilaa Cantwell, the war detective, was there in theflesh to see him die. And like a brutal murderer he died, without an eye of pity fixed upon him, and without taking the hand of a living friend. Shortly after the bursting of Booth's crimson bubble, Paul, who had recovered his health, led Pauline to the altar, and the two lovers commenced a life whose happiness nothing has marred to this day. Leon Lennox, or Silas Cantwell, as we have known him, is stil alive, but has retired from detective life. With the weight of seventy years upon him he is speuding bis remaining days in peace, recalling often, no doubi, bis part in that most dreadful drama of the whole war— the plot against Lincoln. Our injudicious conspirator. Colonel Lovelace Opal, whose hear*, was willing, although his tongue was his worst enemy, fled to Cuba after the assassination, aud even there trembled tor a year at every footfall, and started at every shadow. He is absent still. Here we lay aside the pen, having told as best we could the ro- mance aud reality of the darkest drama ever enacted on Amerioan soil. May it never be repeated, [THE END.] Linitoer 333. tlie Scoxt-t; A Fight for Beauregard's Dispatches. .1 Stiinj (if Pittsbarri Landing. nt (APT -MX ILEAN VERNE. TS'tiiiiber 334,. •To HOI'S©;' The Winged Scout of Georgia. Bi' AXTHOXY P. MORKIS.