stacle to peace.
The President was the only man who could possibly defeat McClellan and
continue the war. He was denounced by the opposition as usurper, tyrant,
and dictator. He was denounced by thousands of men in his own party as
utterly unfit to wield the power he possessed.

And yet, as he heard the slow, heavy footfall approaching the door, a
moment of agonizing doubt gripped his will and weakened his arm. His eye
rested on a worn thumbed copy of the Bible which lay open on the desk.
This man, who was not a church member, in the loneliness of his awful
responsibilities, had been searching there for guidance and inspiration.
There was a pathos in the thought that found his inner conscience
through the mania that possessed him.

Well, he'd test him. He would try this tyrant here alone before the
judgment bar of his soul--condemn him to death or permit him to live, as
he should prove true or false to his mighty trust.

His hand touched his revolver again and he set his square jaws firmly.

The tall figure entered and closed the door.

A flash of blind rage came from the depths of John Vaughan's dark eyes
at the first sight of him. He moved forward a step and his hand trembled
in a desperate instinctive desire to kill. He was a soldier. His enemy
was before him advancing. To kill had become a habit. It seemed the one
natural thing to do.

He stopped with a shock of surprise as the President turned his haggard
eyes in a dazed way and looked about the room.

The light fell full on his face increasing its ghost-like pathetic
expression. The story of anxiety and suffering was burnt in letters of
fire that left his features a wrinkled mask of grey ashes. The drooping
eyelids were swollen, and dark bags hung beneath them. The muscles of
his massive jaws were flaccid, the lines about his large expressive
mouth terrible in their eloquence. His sombre eyes seemed to gaze on the
world with the anguish of millions in their depths.

For a moment John Vaughan was held in a spell by the unexpected
apparition.

"You are alone, sir?" the quiet voice slowly asked.

"Yes."

"I had expected Miss Winter----"

"She came with me and was compelled to leave."

"Oh--will you pull up a chair."

The tall form dropped wearily at his desk. His voice had a far-away
expression in its tones.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" he asked.

"My name is Vaughan--John Vaughan----"

The dark head was lifted with interest:

"The broth