is forged
pass beyond suspicion. He passed the lines of the Union army
unchallenged and spent his first night in Washington in Joe Hall's
famous gambling saloon on Pennsylvania Avenue. He arrived too late to
make any attempt to see Betty. He stood for half an hour on the corner
of the street, gazing with wistful eyes at the light in her window. He
dared not call and involve her in the possibility of suspicion. He must
wait with caution until she left the house and he could speak to her
without being recognized. If he failed to get this chance he would write
her as a last resort.

In Hall's place he found scores of Congressmen and men from every
department of the Government service. Old Thaddeus Stevens, the leader
of the war party in the House, was playing for heavy stakes, his sullen
hard face set with grim determination.

He watched a young clerk from the War Department stake his last dollar,
lose, and stagger from the table with a haunted, desperate look. Ned
followed him into two saloons and saw the bartenders refuse him credit.
He walked through the door of the last saloon, his legs trembling and
his white lips twitching, stopped and leaned against the wall of the
little bookstore on the corner, the flickering street lamp showing dimly
his ghastly face and eyes.

Ned glanced uneasily behind him to see that he had not been followed. He
had left under the impression that a secret service man had seen them
both leave. He knew that Baker, the head of the Department, might know
the name of every clerk who frequented a gambling den. No one was in
sight and he debated for a moment the problem of offering this boy the
bribe to get from Stanton's office the information he wanted.

It was a question of character and his judgment of it. Could he speak
the word to this boy that might send one or both to the gallows? He was
well born. His father was a man of sterling integrity and a firm
supporter of the Union. The boy was twenty-two years old and had been a
pet in the fast circle of society in which he had moved for the last
three years. If his love for his country were the real thing, he would
hand Ned over as a spy without a moment's hesitation. If the mania for
gambling had done its work he would do anything for money.

Ned's own life was in the decision. He took another look into the
haggard face and made up his mind.

He started on as if to pass him, stopped suddenly and extended his hand:

"Hello, Dick, what's up