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 brother of Ned Vaughan, who escaped from prison?"
John nodded:
"The son of Dr. Richard Vaughan, of Palmyra, Missouri."
"Then you're our boy, fighting with Grant's army--yes, I heard of you
when your brother was in trouble. You've been ill, I see--wounded, of
course?"
"Yes."
The President rose and took his visitor's hand, clasping it with both
his own:
"There's nothing I won't do for one of our wounded boys if I can--what
is it?"
"My mother writes me that my father has been arrested without warrant,
is held in prison without bail and denied the right to trial----"
He paused and leaned on the desk, trembling with excitement which had
increased as he spoke.
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