"Excuse my persistence, my friend," he said apologetically. "You seem
all right and my men have apparently made a mistake, all the same I'm
going to examine your mouth----"
Ned's eyes suddenly flashed and his figure unconsciously stiffened.
"I thought so!" the officer laughed.
The door was closed and the guard stepped before it.
And then, with quick sure touch as if he saw the object of his search
through the flesh, the detective lifted Ned Vaughan's upper lip and drew
from between his lips and teeth the long, thin, delicately folded
tinfoil within which lay the tissue drawing of the fort.
The drumhead court-martial which followed was 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.
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