brief and formal. The
prisoner refused to give his name or any clue to his identity. He was
condemned to be hanged as a spy at noon the next day and locked in a
cell in the Old Capitol Prison.

On his way they passed Senator Winter's house. Six hours' delay just to
look into her face had cost him his life, but his one hopeless regret
now was that he had failed to see her.

Betty Winter read the account of the sensational arrest and death
sentence. He had been arrested at the trysting place he had appointed.
She dropped the paper with a cry and hurried to the White House. She
thanked God for the loving heart that dwelt there.

Without a moment's hesitation the President ordered a suspension of
sentence and directed that the papers be sent to him for review.

In vain Stanton raged. He shook his fist in the calm, rugged face at
last:

"Dare to interfere with the final execution of this sentence and I shall
resign in five minutes after you issue that pardon! I'll stand for some
things--but not for this--I warn you!"

"I understand your position, Stanton," was the quiet answer. "And I'll
let you know my decision when I've reached it."

With a muttered oath, the Secretary of War left the room.

Betty bent close to his desk and whispered:

"You'll give me three days to get his mother here?"

"Of course I will, child, six days if it's necessary. Get word to her.
If I can't save him, she can say good-bye to her boy. That can't hurt
anybody, can it?"

With a warm grasp of his hand Betty flew to the telegraph office and
three days later she saw for the first time the broken-hearted mother.
The resemblance was so startling between the mother and both sons she
couldn't resist the impulse to throw her arms around her neck.

"I came alone, dear," the mother said brokenly, "because his father is
so bitter. You see we're divided at home, too. I'm with John in his love
for the Union--but his father is bitter against the war. It would do no
good for him to come. He hates the President and says he's responsible
for all the blood and suffering--and so I'm alone--but you'll help me?"

"Yes, I'll help and we'll fight to win."

The mother held her at arms' length a moment:

"How sweet and beautiful you are! How happy I am that you love my John!
I'm proud of you. Is John here?"

Betty's face clouded:

"No. I telegraphed him to come. He answered that a great battle was
about to be fought and that it was absolutely useless to