a friendly smile he touched his thin beard.

He sent the young man away happy with his promise of consideration. That
he should have asked this beardless boy's pardon in so pointed a manner
Socola thought remarkable. That the Chief Executive of nine million
people should blush suddenly over such a trifle was the flash that
revealed a great soul.

The President advanced and gave Jennie both his hands in cordial
greeting.

"I've brought you a recruit, sir," the girl cried with a merry laugh.

"Indeed?"

"I have resigned my commission with the Sardinian Ministry, Mr.
President, and wish to offer my services to the South."

"We need every true friend the world can send us, Signor--I thank you--"

"I wish, sir," Socola hastened to say, "to render the most efficient
service possible. I have no training as a soldier. I have experience as
a diplomat. I speak three languages and I am an expert stenographer--"

"I'm sorry, Signor," the President interrupted, "that I have no vacancy
in my office--or I should be pleased to have you here."

"Perhaps your State Department may find me useful?"

"No doubt they can. I'll give you a letter to the Secretary recommending
your appointment."

He seated himself at once, wrote the letter and handed it to Socola.

Jennie thanked him and, with a warm pressure of his hand, passed into
the hall with Socola.

At the outer door Burton Harrison overtook them:

"Just a moment, Miss Barton. The President wishes to ask you a
question."

Davis drew her to the window.

"I should have been more careful of the credentials of our friend
perhaps, Miss Jennie. You can vouch for his loyalty?"

"Absolutely."

She had scarcely uttered the word in tones of positive conviction before
she realized the startling fact that she had spoken under the impulse of
some strange intuition and not from her knowledge of the man's character
and history.

In spite of her effort at self-control she blushed furiously. Mr. Davis
apparently did not observe it.

"I have been much impressed with his poise and culture and intelligence.
You met him in Washington, of course?"

"Yes--"

"You know positively that he was the Secretary of the Sardinian
Minister?"

"Positively, Mr. President--"

"Thank you, my dear. I'll take your word for it."

Jennie walked home on air. She had made history. How tragic its sequel
was destined to be, a kind Providence concealed.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE FATAL BLUNDER