as the surly reply.

It did not take the colored girl long to find the wrap, and, escorted
by Baker, Nancy ran down the steps and entered the waiting hack. They
drove in absolute silence, Nancy gazing straight before her with
brooding eyes. Never had he escorted so quiet a prisoner, and Baker was
glad when they reached the War Department. He wasted no time, but took
her at once to the private office of the Secretary of War.

"Here is Miss Newton, Mr. Secretary," he announced, signing to Nancy to
enter the room first.

"To what do I owe my arrest, Secretary Stanton?" asked Nancy, walking
quietly up to his desk.

Stanton glanced piercingly at her. Her proud, cold beauty and
distinguished appearance stirred a momentary feeling of admiration in
the "Iron Secretary's" breast. He half rose, then sank again into his
chair.

"Be seated," he directed shortly. "Baker, close that door." He took off
his spectacles, wiped them carefully, then replaced them am his nose.
"You asked me?"

"Why I am arrested?" steadily.

"Isn't that an unnecessary question?"

"No. I am not a mind reader."

"You need not strain your imagination. Do you know Major George Pegram,
of the --th Virginia Cavalry?"

"I do. He is my cousin."

"He _was_." Stanton stopped and eyed Nancy intently; but she sat as if
carved from stone. Not by cry or sign did she betray the shock his
words gave her. "Major Pegram was killed last Wednesday, when trying to
get through our lines about Winchester."

"Poor fellow!" Nancy's tone was keyed to express simply natural sorrow
and regret. "I am sure his death became him."

Stanton looked baffled, as his bomb shell exploded without apparent
effect. Was there no vulnerable spot in her armor of iron self-control?
After a moment he continued his examination.

"Your cousin was killed by Captain Lloyd, of the Secret Service, who
took from his dead body the cipher despatch which you secured under the
noses of a room full of my officers at Winchester." He paused to let
the meaning of his words sink in.

Nancy thought for a second; then shook her head. "I fail to recall any
such incident."

"You have a poor memory," retorted Stanton. "Possibly it will be
improved when I show you the despatch in your handwriting."

Nancy's face never altered. "May I see the despatch?"

The Secretary paid no attention to her question. "There is no use
denying it any longer, Miss Newton. I know you are a rebel spy."

"Indeed. And ma