A War-Time Wooing: A Story

by Charles King

  IV.

  Two days after the excitement in Frederick consequent upon the escape ofthe supposed spy Colonel Putnam was chatting with the provost-marshaland the landlord of the tavern where Doctor Warren had paid his briefvisit. They were discussing a piece of news that had come in during themorning. From the very first the proprietor of the old tavern hadscoffed at the theory of there being anything of a Southern spy aboutthe mysterious stranger. He was a Southern man himself, and, thoughhardly an enemy to the Union, he had that personal sympathy for a hostof neighbors and friends which gave him something of a leaning that way.He did not believe, he openly said, that anything on earth could whipthe South so long as they kept on their own soil; but things lookedblack for their cause when they crossed the Potomac. Maryland had notrisen in tumultuous welcome as Lee hopefully expected. The worn, ragged,half-* starved soldiers that had marched up the valley in mid-Septemberhad little of the heroic in their appearance, despite the fame of theirexploits; and in their hunger and thirst they had made way,soldier-fashion, with provender for which they could not pay. The hosthimself had suffered not a little from their forays, and while hissentiments were broadly Southern his business instincts wereemphatically on the side of the greenbacks of the North. He had foundthe Union officers men of means, if not of such picturesquely martialattributes as their Southern opponents; and while he would not deny hisfriendship for many a gallant fellow in the rebel gray, neither would herebuff the blue-coat whose palm was tinged with green. He liked theprovost-marshal because that functionary had twice rescued his bar fromdemolition at the hands of a gang of stragglers. He admired ColonelPutnam as a soldier and a gentleman, but he was enjoying a triumph overboth of them; he had news to tell which seemed to sustain his theory anddefeat theirs as to the identity of the man who left his beard behindhim.

  "I am told you knew this Doctor Warren, colonel," he was saying, "and upto this time I had not spoken of him for reasons which--well, becausehe had reasons for asking me to make no mention of his being here. Now,if he was a Doctor Warren, from the North, and a loyal man, what wouldhe be doing with a spy?"

  "I did not know he saw him at all," said Colonel Putnam, quickly.

  "Nor do I; but I do believe that he was here purposely to meet him; thathe, the man you tried to arrest, was here at this house to meet yourfriend who followed you out to camp. If Doctor Warren is a loyal man, asyou doubtless believe him, he would have no call to be here to getpapers from a man who could only meet him in disguise. I'm told thedoctor made himself all clear to you as to who he was."

  Colonel Putnam's face is a study. He is unquestionably turning pale, andhis eyes are filled with a strange, introspective, puzzled look. He isstartled, too.

  "Do you mean to tell me he _did_ have communication with the doctor?" heasks.

  "My wife is ready to swear to it," replies mine host. "Her story issimply this: She had come down-stairs just as the doctor returned. Shehad been sitting with the young lady, who was very nervous and ill atease while he was away, and had gone into the kitchen at the back of thehouse to get her a cup of tea. She was startled by a rap at the door,and in walks a man wrapped up in a big military cape. He wore spectaclesand a full black beard, and he took off his hat, and spoke like agentleman. He said he desired to see either Doctor Warren or the younglady at once on business of the utmost importance, and asked her if shewould conduct him up by a rear stairway. My wife told him to go aroundto the office, but he replied that he expected that, and hastened totell her that it was because there were Union officers in the hallwaythat he could not go there. There were personal reasons why he must notbe seen; and she said to him that a man who looked like an officer andspoke like a gentleman ought not to be afraid to go among his fellows;and he said he was not an officer, and then asked her, suddenly, if shewas a friend to the North or the South; and before she could answer theyboth saw lights dancing about out there in the yard, and he wasstartled, and said 'twas for him they were searching, and begged her, asshe was a woman, not to betray him; he was the young lady's lover, hesaid in explanation, and had risked much to meet her. And my wife'sheart was touched at that, and she showed him a place to hide; and whenshe went up she heard the young lady sobbing and the old man trying hardto comfort her; and she knocked, but they begged to be left undisturbeduntil they called, and she went down and told the man; and he wasfearfully nervous and worried, she said, especially when told about thecrying going on; and he wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper, gave itto her with a little packet, and she took them up to the doctor; andthey were just coming out of their room at the moment, and the doctorput the papers in his pocket, and said to her and to me that he beggedus to make no mention of his daughter's being there to any one--therewere reasons. And her face was hidden in her veil, and he seemed allbroken down with anxiety or illness, and said they must have a carriageor something to take them at once to the railway. They probably wentback to Baltimore that night, but the doctor took the packet in hispocket; and the man whom you saw come up from under the back piazza,colonel, was the man who sent it him."

  The provost-marshal is deeply interested. Colonel Putnam sits, in amaze of perplexity, silent and astounded.

  "The doctor was well known to you, was he not, Putnam?" asked themarshal.

  The colonel starts, embarrassed and troubled.

  "No. I never saw him before."

  "He brought letters to you, didn't he?"

  "No letters. In fact, it wasn't me whom he came to see at all."

  "Whom did he want, then?"

  "Mr. Abbot," answers the colonel, briefly, and with growingembarrassment.

  "Oh! Abbot knew him, did he?"

  "No; he didn't. That is the singular part of it. The more I recall theinterview the more I'm upset."

  "Why so?"

  "Because he said he had come to see an old friend of his son's whom hemourned as killed at Seven Pines. He named Abbot, and said he had beenin correspondence with him for a year. As luck would have it, Abbot wassitting right there beside me, and I said at once, 'Here's your man,' orsomething like it; and then Abbot didn't know him at all; declared hehad never written a line to him; never heard of him. The old gentlemanwas completely floored. He vowed that for a whole year he had beenreceiving letters from Lieutenant Paul Revere Abbot, and now had come tosee him because he was reported severely wounded."

  "Did he show you any of the letters?"

  "Why, no! He said there were none with him. He--I declare I do not knowwhat excuse he _did_ give," says the colonel, in dire distress of mind.

  The provost-marshal's eyes are glittering, and his face is set andeager. He thinks intently one moment, and then turns on the silentcolonel and their perplexed landlord.

  "Keep this thing perfectly quiet, gentlemen; I may have to look furtherinto it; but at this moment, colonel, circumstances point significantlyat your friend, the doctor. Do you see nothing suspicious in hisconduct? His confident claim of a year's correspondence with an officerof your regiment was possibly to gain your friendship and protection. Asill-luck for him and good-luck for us would have it, he named the wrongman. Abbot was there, and could deny it on the spot. The old man wasfloored, of course; but his only way of carrying the thing through wasto play the martyr, and tell the story that for a year somebody had beenwriting to him daily or weekly over the name of Abbot. What a veryimprobable yarn, Putnam! Just think for yourself. What man would be aptto do that sort of thing? What object could he have? Why, the doctorhimself well realized what a transparent fiction it must appear, andaway he slips by the night train the moment he gets back. And now ourfriend, the landlord, throws further light upon the matter. He was hereto meet that night visitor, perhaps convey valuable information to him,but was frightened by the blunder he had made, and got away as speedilyas possible, and without seeing the owner of the beard, although apacket of papers was duly handed to him from that mysterious party.Doctor Warren may turn out a candidate for the fortress of that name inyour own harbor, colonel."

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nbsp; And, thinking it all over, Putnam cannot make up his mind what to say.There is something in his impression of the doctor that utterly sets atnaught any belief that he was acting a part. He was so simple, sodirect, so genuine in his manner and in his distress. On the otherhand, analyzing the situation, the colonel is compelled to realize thatto any one but himself the doctor's story would appear unworthy ofcredence. He is in this uncomfortable frame of mind when a staff-officercomes to see him with some papers from the quartermaster-general thatcall for an immediate investigation of the affairs of the missingLieutenant Hollins, and for two or three days Colonel Putnam is away atthe supply depot on the railway. It is there that he learns the pleasantnews that his gallant young comrade has been promoted to a mostdesirable staff position, and ordered to report for duty in Washingtonas soon as able to travel. He writes a line of congratulation to Abbot,and begs him to be sure and send word when he will come through, so thatthey may meet, and then returns to his patient overhauling of thegarbled accounts of the quondam quartermaster.

  No answer comes from Abbot, and the colonel is so busy that he thinkslittle of it. The investigation is giving him a world of insight intothe crookedness of the late administration, and has put him inpossession of facts and given rise to theories that are of unusualinterest, and so, when he hears that Abbot was able to leave thehospital and ride slowly in to the railway and so on to Baltimore, hemerely regrets not having seen him, and thinks little of it.

  But the provost-marshal has been busily at work; has interviewed Abbotand cross-examined the landlady. He has found an officer who says thatthe night of the escapade at Frederick his horse was taken from in frontof the house of some friends he was visiting in the southern edge of thetown, and was found next morning by the pickets clear down at the bridgewhere the canal crosses the Monocacy; and the pickets said he looked asthough he had been ridden hard and fast, and that no trace of ridercould be found. Inquiry among patrols and guards develops the fact thata man riding such a horse, wearing such a hat and cape as was described,but with a smooth face and spectacles, had passed south during thenight, and claimed to be on his way to Point of Rocks with despatchesfor the commanding officer from General Franklin. He exhibited an ordermade out for Captain Hollister, and signed by Seth Williams,adjutant-general of the army in the field. No such officer had reachedPoint of Rocks, and the provost-marshal becomes satisfied that on orabout the 4th or 5th of October this very party who was prowling aboutthe town of Frederick has gotten back into Virginia, possibly withvaluable information.

  When, on the evening of the 10th, there comes the startling news that"Jeb" Stuart, with all his daring gray raiders at his back, has leapedthe Potomac at Williamsport, and is galloping up the Cumberland Valleyaround McClellan's right, the provost-marshal is convinced that the bolddash is all due to information picked up under his very nose in thevalley of the Monocacy. If he ever had the faintest doubt of the justiceof his suspicions as to "Doctor Warren's" complicity, the doubt has beenremoved. Already, at his instance, a secret-service agent has visitedHastings, and wires back the important news that the doctor left thereabout the 25th of September, and has not returned. On the 11th he isrejoiced by a telegram from Washington which tells him that, acting onhis advices, Doctor Warren had been found, and is now under closesurveillance at Willard's.

  Then it is time for him to look out for his own movements. Having leapedinto the Union lines with all his native grace and audacity, thecavalier Stuart reposes a few days at Chambersburg, placidly surveyingthe neighborhood and inviting attack. Then he rides eastward over theSouth Mountain, and the next heard of him he is coming down theMonocacy. McClellan's army is encamped about Sharpsburg and Harper'sFerry. He has but few cavalry, and, at this stage of the war, none thatcan compete successfully with Stuart. Not knowing just what to doagainst so active and calmly audacious an opponent, the Union general ispossibly too glad to get rid of him to attempt any check. To the vastindignation and disappointment of many young and ardent soldiers in ourlines, he is apparently riding homeward unmolested, picking up suchsupplies as he desires, paroling such prisoners as he does not want toburden himself with, and exchanging laughing greetings with old friendshe meets everywhere along the Monocacy. At Point of Rocks, whither ourprovost-marshal and Colonel Putnam are driven for shelter, together withnumerous squads of convalescents and some dozen stragglers, there isarming for defence, and every intention of giving Jeb a sharp fightshould he attempt to pick up supplies or stragglers from its sturdygarrison. Every hour there is exciting news of his coming, and, withtheir glasses, the officers can see clouds of dust rising high in airfar up the valley. Putnam has urgent reason for wanting to rejoin hisregiment at once. What with the information he has received from the twoor three officers whom he has questioned, and the papers themselves, hehas immediate need of seeing the ex-quartermaster sergeant, Rix. But hecannot go when there is a chance for a fight right here. Stuart may dashin westward, and have just one lively tussle with them to cover thecrossing of his valuable plunder and prisoners below. Of course theyhave not men enough to think of confronting him. Just in the midst ofall the excitement there comes an orderly with despatches and lettersfrom up the river, and one of them is for Putnam, from the majorcommanding the regiment. It is brief enough, but exasperating. "Igreatly regret to have to report to you, in answer to your directionswith regard to Rix, that they came too late. In some utterlyunaccountable way, though we fear through collusion on part of a memberor members of the guard, Rix made his escape two nights ago, and is nowat large."