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  A REPUBLIC WITHOUT A PRESIDENT AND OTHER STORIES

  BY HERBERT D. WARD

  AUTHOR OF "THE NEW SENIOR AT ANDOVER," "THE MASTER OF THE MAGICIANS," ETC.

  NEW YORK TAIT, SONS & COMPANY Union Square

  Copyright, 1891. BY HERBERT D. WARD.

  A REPUBLIC WITHOUT A PRESIDENT.

  PART I.

  On the morning of the eighth of June, 1893, at about ten o'clock, crowdswere seen clustered in front of the daily newspaper bulletins in NewYork, Chicago, Philadelphia, San Francisco, and Boston. The excitementrivalled that occasioned by the assassination of Garfield, and by nightthe country was as bewildered and aghast as when the news came thatLincoln was murdered. This was the announcement as it appeared inblood-red, gigantic capitals by the door of the New York _Tribune_building:

  UNPRECEDENTED CALAMITY!

  AWFUL MYSTERY!

  THE PRESIDENT AND HIS WIFE SPIRITED AWAY FROM THE WHITE HOUSE!

  TWO SERVANTS FOUND GAGGED!

  NOT A TRACE OF THE DISTINGUISHED COUPLE!

  THE COUNTRY AGHAST AT THE DREADFUL POSSIBILITIES OF THIS DISAPPEARANCE!

  Extras found enormous sales, but they contained no more news than this.Business was brought to a standstill and stocks fell in half an hourfrom five to twenty per cent. The land was convulsed. It was true thatthere were those who thought the whole thing a colossal hoax perpetratedby the defeated party. But as time went on the startling and incrediblenews was confirmed. The evening edition of the New York _Sun_ had theseominous headers.

  THE PRESIDENT AND HIS WIFE HAVE ACTUALLY DISAPPEARED.

  THE GAGGED SERVANTS OF THE WHITE HOUSE TELL THEIR STORY.

  THEY ARE IN PRISON ON GRAVE SUSPICION OF CONSPIRACY.

  THE CARD OF AN EMINENT POLITICIAN FOUND IN THE VESTIBULE OF THE EXECUTIVE MANSION.

  IS A DARK POLITICAL PLOT ABOUT TO BE UNEARTHED?

  The next day found the situation unchanged. Rumors of every descriptionran wild. Telegrams of condolence from all the sovereigns of the worldwere received at Washington by the dazed Department of State. These werefully given to the omnivorous press. By order of the Vice-President, allother news was for the present rigorously withheld from publication. Tothis censorship the press submitted cordially. Mystery was brooding overthe land, and despair laughed detectives in the face. Men met each otherand asked only this question:

  "Have they been found?"

  A sad shake of the head always followed.

  "No wonder," the Governor of Massachusetts was heard to say, "withthousands of assassins coming over here every year. Even our Presidentwas not safe. God help our country!"

  At the end of a few days the full news, as far as it went, waspublished, and the nation then drew its second breath. The facts aboutthis stupendous abduction, as given to the public by the end of theweek, were briefly these: This is the affidavit of the night sentry, whowas stationed in the vestibule of the White House.

  "My name is George Henry. I am thirty-four years old. I was born in thiscountry. My father was a slave. It was about one-thirty last night whenI was aroused by a double rap at the main entrance. I was not asleep,but I may have been a little sleepy. I asked who was there, and a voiceanswered that the Secretary of State wished to see the President onbusiness of the greatest importance. I answered that the President wasin bed. He said that he must see the President immediately. Then Ithought I recognized the voice of Mr. Secretary. I opened the door and,sure enough, Mr. Secretary entered. He had on a silk hat and the grayovercoat he usually wears. He gave me his card, and told me to take itright up to the President. The door was left open and I noticed it wasraining. The carriage of the Secretary was standing under the portico. Idid not see the coachman. When I bowed and turned to go upstairs therewas a strange smell in the air, and I remember nothing more."

  The cross-examination brought out from the prisoner, who seemed toanswer honestly and intelligently, that he was sure it was the Secretaryof State, but his voice seemed changed by a cold. He felt positive aboutthe carriage, for he recognized the team, a gray and a black. He heardno voices outside. When chloroform was produced, he said that was thesame smell, but there was something more that was considerably tarter.He persisted in the same story, and repeated it over and over withoutvariation. It looked dubious for his excellency the Secretary of State.

  The next witness was the night sentry on the second floor. He was badlyfrightened, was a little confused, but told a straight story. Hisdeposition was as follows:

  "Yes, sah, my name is Frank Steven. I have alluz been a colored man. Iwas bahn in Ohio when I was twelve years old." [At this juncture a glassof ice water restored the equilibrium of the witness.] "I moved to Ohiowhen I was twelve years old. I was born in Mississipy. I'm forty-twonow, I think. It might have been half after one or two when I heard astep a-coming up the stairs. I went to the landing and saw Mr. Secretaryof State a-coming up with his hat on; and how he got there the Lawd onlyknows. He told me to show him to Mr. President's room. He spoke mightysharp, and I thought it was all right, so I led the way. When I wasa-going to knock at Mr. President's door, he told me to stop and have acigar first. He never offered me one before, and I was mighty surprised.There was a strange smell, like an apothecary store and I don't knowanything more about it. That is all I know, sir."

  Subsequent examination brought out no new fact, except that the prisonerremembered that the Secretary coughed behind a handkerchief as he spoke,and that one hand was concealed under his gray overcoat; this was pulledover his ears. The thing that struck him most was that the Secretarykept his hat on during the whole interview. The watchman had never knownhim to keep his hat on in the house before. Like the first witness, herecognized the odor of chloroform, and thought there was something elsebesides. He was surprised to find himself gagged and bound when he cameto.

  As the two witnesses corroborated each other, and as neither had anycommunication with the other, they were substantially believed. The factthat this testimony was indisputably damaging to the Secretary of State,and the further circumstantial evidence of his card having beenrecovered from the floor of the lower vestibule, caused theinvestigating committee, of which Inspector Byrnes was the chairman,rigorously to exclude all reporters, lest the evidence might make it, tosay the least, uncomfortable for the suspected dignitary. It was naturalthat, by ten o'clock on the morning of the drama, a secret guard shouldbe placed over the head of the Department of State, though no movementwas made as yet toward his arrest.

  The next witness of importance was the President's valet, who swore thatthe President retired unusually early that night and dismissed him withthe special injunction that the house should be kept quiet, as thePresident had a headache and wished perfect rest.

  It may be well to state here that the new incumbent of the presidentialchair shared with his wife the traditions of Jeffersonian simplicity ofliving, and that they departed so little from their original home habitsthat house detectives were abolished, and the distinguished pair lived,entertained, and slept with as scant formality as the sovereign peopleallowed. The doors communicating with their sleeping apartments wererarely locked. Full dependence for safety was placed upon the twotrusted watchmen whose deposition has been given.

  The children and their attendants, who slept in adjacent rooms, heard nonoise during the ni
ght. In short, none but the two under strict arrestwere aware of the entrance of any person or persons after twelveo'clock. In the meanwhile, detectives were stationed unostentatiouslythroughout the White House, watching with professional acuteness themovements of everyone within its doors.

  At eleven o'clock precisely on the morning of the ninth of June,Inspector Byrnes and the chief of the Washington police drove up in ahack to the door of the Secretary's mansion, and requested a privateinterview. Within was feverish commotion. Senators and Representatives,public officials and men of eminence were sending in their cards andexcitedly discussing the dreadful news. Telegrams were beginning to pourin. The first impression was confirmed that a political coup or revengewas at the bottom of the shocking affair, and whispers were mysteriouslyexchanged between sombre and stately heads.

  When the Secretary saw the cards he immediately withdrew, with an asideto the Secretary of War: "This visit may clear up some of the mystery."These words were not calculated to soothe the impatience of the innercircle.

  When the three were alone in the private office, the chief of theWashington police force tersely opened the subject. He was a bluntofficial of adamantine integrity, a veteran of the war.

  "Mr. Secretary," he began, "this is the saddest day the country hasknown for many a year. You must pardon me if I ask you a few leadingquestions."

  Inspector Byrnes sat with his back to the light; for, with an inimitablefashion of his own, he had, upon entering, made a debouch between twochairs and a table, forcing the Secretary to sit with his face to theglare of the window. Shaded himself he could with impunity watch theleast expression on the sensitive and noble countenance before him.

  "Sir, do you recognize this card?" The question came like a musket shot,and a card dropped, face upwards, on the Secretary's knee. Kellar couldnot have performed this feat more neatly.

  The Secretary glanced at the pasteboard for a moment, and said inevident surprise:

  "Why, yes. It is one of my cards."

  "Have you any more with you?" asked Inspector Byrnes, speaking for thefirst time.

  The Secretary seemed puzzled, but good-naturedly opened his wallet, andproduced several of the same description. These he handed to theInspector, who took them and bowed profoundly. A moment was spent inintense examination.

  "You must pardon me if I ask you if you use these cards when callingupon the President?" proceeded the Washington officer. The Inspector'seyes seemed to be still riveted upon the cards in his hands.

  "Why, yes--no--that is, once in a while, if I happen to desire anaudience at an unusual hour," answered the Secretary, exhibiting thefirst signs of embarrassment.

  "Will you please tell us when you called there last?" asked InspectorByrnes, furtively glancing up and speaking in a chatty, assuring tone.

  The Secretary's face expressed relief.

  "Certainly," he answered; "that is easy enough. I attended an informalreception in the Blue Room from three to four yesterday and saw thePresident alone a minute afterward. That is the last time I saw him."One might almost have fancied at the last sentence that tears arose tothe eyes of the cabinet officer; at least there were tears in his voice.

  "Just as a matter of formality, Mr. Secretary, will you tell us whereyou were between twelve and two o'clock this morning?" asked theInspector, with the unconscious look of a man who was asking for a glassof water.

  "What does this mean, sir? Do you suspect me in this infernal mystery?"ejaculated the Secretary. His face was pale from excitement; his eyesflashed in manly protest.

  "Not at all, not at all, sir. Calm yourself. This is only a matter ofcurious coincidence and a disagreeable formality," answered theInspector, waving his hand as if he were brushing away a fly.

  The Secretary stood a moment in thought, and then turned and touched abutton. Immediately a servant appeared to whom the Secretary whispered afew words. The man in livery bowed and went.

  "Now, gentlemen," said the Secretary, standing with much dignity beforehis callers, "wait a moment, and so far as I am concerned this mysteryshall be cleared. I happened to be in this room last night from twelveuntil half-past two with some gentlemen, whom I am sure you willrecognize. Ah! here they are."

  A tap at the door and a "Come in" revealed to the astonished detectivesthe Secretaries of War and of the Interior, who entered the room.

  "Now, Inspector," continued the Secretary of State in his grandestmanner, "will you kindly ask your question again?"

  It then transpired that the three Secretaries had conducted an informalmeeting to confer about the distressing question of war with Canadawhich was at that time agitating the country, and that their interviewhad been prolonged into the small hours of the morning. The chief ofthe Washington police could not refrain from profuse apologies afterthis denouement. Inspector Byrnes thought profoundly, and then, after apause, burst out with unparalleled frankness:

  "Gentlemen, this is the most startling mystery in the annals of Americancrime. I must confess that up to this moment I am absolutely foiled." Hethen recounted, under seal of secrecy, the whole story as we have seenit. Ending his exciting narrative, he said:

  "And, Mr. Secretary, do you know of any one in Washington or in thecountry that resembles you enough to deceive two men, taking intoaccount a natural drowsiness that each admitted?"

  The three gentlemen of the Cabinet thought hard but were soon bound toanswer in the negative. For the Secretary of State was noordinary-looking man. Conspicuous on any occasion, though not what mightbe strictly called handsome, he always commanded attention by hisdistinguished air. His luxuriant side whiskers, which were reallymagnificent were the most noticeable feature of his face. He had thehappy consciousness that there were none like them in the United States.

  "There is only one more question you can answer, Mr. Secretary," saidInspector Byrnes, with a deferential look. "The watchman on the firstfloor said he recognized your team. Will you please find out whetheryour coupe was in or not between twelve and two? Coachmen have queertricks at times."

  The coachman was immediately sent for. Meanwhile the Secretary statedthat he had come in at twelve from a late call on a personal friend.

  "May I ask your friend's name?" interrupted the national sleuth-hound,swiftly and politely.

  "The Patagonian Ambassador," replied the Secretary with hauteur. Headded that he had sent his carriage instructing John, the familycoachman, to be on hand at eleven that morning. The carriage wasevidently not there, and in the excitement of the news the Secretary hadforegone his morning's Department business.

  After half an hour of waiting, during which the two police officers hadsent out several messages, the coachman was ushered in among theimpatient quintet. Instead of the prim and stately master of the horse,who was the despair of even his co-peer the Jehu of the EnglishAmbassador, and the admiration of the Washington gamin, there skulked ina battered, bandaged, hastily-dressed man, who shuffled out incoherentexcuses, and burst into moist apologies.

  "It wasn't my fault. The divil was in it. The hosses are safe. Thekerridge is well. I woke up in the gutter, the blood sputterin' down mebackbone. They were picked up this morning. Don't discharge me! I'veserved you fifteen years and only trained twicst. What'll become of me?Lord have mercy!" The coachman of the Secretary had a stock ofirreproachable syntax, which had been utterly scattered during theexperience of the last night. At this spontaneous moment his nativegrammar got the best of him.

  The coachman's testimony amounted to this: The driver was walking hishorses to the stable in the fog when he saw a man beckon him from thesidewalk. Not a soul was on the street. Beyond was a dark, private lane.He stopped, and, to his surprise, saw, as he thought, his masterstanding and motioning him to come to a halt and get down. TheSecretary's face was turned toward the dark. The voice sounded muffled.When the coachman alighted his master produced a silver flask and toldhim to take a drink as it was so damp. He dared not disobey, though fullof wonder at this unprecedented favor. As soon as he had
taken a pull hefelt dizzy. Two or three more black figures appeared like ghosts beforehis eyes. He thought he struck out or tried to run to the coach, hedidn't know which. A queer odor mounted to his head. Then he lostconsciousness. He came to, early in the morning, a little after four,and staggered to the stable. The team was not there. He fell into astupor of despair. About an hour after, an acquaintance of his drove thespan up, and said they had been found unchecked, grazing near theSmithsonian Institute. He supposed that they had run away. TheSecretary's coachman had then given the fellow five dollars for hisservices and to hold his tongue. He was afraid of being discharged. Hehad just heard of the disappearance of the President and he feared beingimplicated in the affair. After the name of the person who found thehorses was taken down, and after a searching cross-examination, thefrightened man was sent away to rest, with assurance of continued favor.Subsequent examinations failed to find any traces of the catastrophe inthe coupe. It had been carefully cleaned when it came back to thestable. There was no blood visible.

  This completes the whole of the testimony and information that wasreceived or discovered by the united efforts of all the detectives inAmerica up to the fourteenth of the month. Clews had been manufacturedand followed with desperate rapidity, but to no avail. Numberlessarrests had been made, but no one could be legally held for high treasonagainst the Chief Executive. All that was known was this: that some boldvillain had successfully personated the Secretary of State; that he hadgulled three servants by a close resemblance; that he, with others,probably, had forcibly carried the President and his wife from theirvery beds, leaving them but scant time to take the necessary articles ofclothing; that these abductors had audaciously used the State carriagefor their nefarious purpose; that they had left absolutely no tracebehind; and, that moreover, in the darkness of the fog and rain nofurther track could be found of the direction they took. They could nothave gone by train; so every house in the city of Washington and in thesuburbs, to the distance of fifteen miles or more, had been searched invain. A like systematic investigation was carried on along the river, tothe bay, in search of anything suspicious afloat. The authorities gavethe robbers of the nation no time or opportunity to escape by land orwater. All avenues were watched. Where were they and their noble booty?In short the foremost couple of the United States had utterlydisappeared, to the horror and despair of the civilized world.

  It was just one week from the morning of the shock when the New York_Herald_ published the following manifesto in its original form. It wassent as an advertisement with five dollars enclosed. The envelope waspostmarked from division II of the New York Post-office. The documentbore no superscription. It read as follows:

  TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES:

  _We have abducted your President and his wife, and hold them for ransom. They will not be delivered up until their fine be paid publicly, under full sanction of Congress. Moreover, Congress and the people must guarantee, in addition to the full payment, C. O. D., entire liberty to the abductors permanently to withdraw from this country and live in future peace. Unless Congress and the nation give their honor for the payment of the ransom and our personal and impregnable liberty, we will not deliver our prisoners. We impose a ransom of a million dollars apiece for each week, for such time as this offer may remain unaccepted. The time begins from date of capture. These conditions are final. When the country, through its representatives, accedes to this demand, the time and place of delivery will be published in these columns. The loyalty and honor of the nation are now on exhibition before the world._

  This communication burst like dynamite upon the people. Did it not bearan undeniable stamp of genuineness upon its face, not only through thefirmness of its tone, but by the audacity of the demand? Yet there wasan equal division of opinion. Some thought it was the raving of a crankin search of notoriety, but others looked upon it as a veritablecommunication from those who held the President and his wife in theirpossession.

  Two millions of dollars a week! A princely ransom worthy of a royalcouple and of the United States.

  It was natural that the handwriting of this letter should be scrutinizedseverely. Every ingenuity that detective art could devise for findingthe sender was employed. During the next few days New York underwent anespionage worthy of the court of St Petersburg. But, to the uttermortification of Inspector Byrnes and his myriads, of Pinkerton and hismyrmidons, they were bound to confess their utter failure. Theperpetrators of the incredible deed, like

  "An arm Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,"

  brandished the sword in the air and disappeared.

  In the meantime the political nation was aroused. It experienced somemeasure of relief to know, if it were true, that its chief was held forpaltry gold. In that case, he and his would be safe from the assassin'ssword or the vengeance of an alien party whose hatred he had incurred bypatriotic scorn in his inaugural address. An yet, the question wasraised whether some treasonable secret society had not secluded him,hoping to increase its revenue at the expense of the United Statestreasury. Many went so far as to pronounce it a Fenian plot to raisemoney for Parnell in his final overthrow of English rule in Ireland.Constituents wrote to their representatives in Washington, instructingthem to vote the ransom, without delay, from the surplus fund, which wasnow one hundred and seventy-eight million dollars. Others instructedthem not to waste the public money, as the President and his spouse mustsoon be found by competent detectives, and thus a "creditable saving tothe treasury" would be made. The Vice-President, who had succeeded tofull powers, sent a special message to Congress, requesting it to votethe ransom, no matter how enormous. The strain on him was not worth thepeople's money. So Congress met in secret session, and spent the balanceof the week fighting, temporizing, and receiving telegrams to the effectthat new clews were found.

  On the twenty-second of June, exactly two weeks from the time of thedistinguished capture, the following epigrammatic communication wasprinted by the New York _Herald_, in the same handwriting as theprevious one. The envelope bore a Chicago postmark:

  "_Congress has disregarded our generous offer: The ransom for the President of the United States and for his wife is therefore raised two million dollars._"

  This was all; cold and ominous. Like the first message it was unsigned.The style was unrelenting and imperious. Citizens awoke to the sensationthat they who were now the nation's martyrs were in the hands of men whowould not shrink from enforcing their demand. It was now universallybelieved that these were _bona fide_ bulletins sent by the unscrupulousabductors themselves. This became the detectives' final theory, and theymassed their skill towards it.

  The unsolved mystery brooded like dog-days over man, woman, and child. Anameless fear, that of an unknown and irresistible enemy in their midst,paralyzed the citizens. Prayers were offered in every church,school-house, and home. The hostilities that but lately threatened thecountry ceased. Civilization breathed nothing but sympathy for thebereaved republic. Sovereigns redoubled their private guards and quakedupon their thrones. And yet, in the face of fears, petitions, andthreats, Congress, in a spirit of disastrous conservatism that hasmarked so many of its deliberations, allowed itself to be ruled by adissenting minority. Detective Byrnes, hoping to gain imperishablecredit and also the reward of five hundred thousand dollars whichCongress had been liberal enough to offer, counselled delay in a privateletter to the Speaker of the House. So it happened that this august bodywould not ratify the overwhelming vote for immediate payment of ransomwhich had just been passed by the Senate.

  This filibustering brought the country into the third week of thecalamity. The following communication to the New York _Herald_,postmarked Boston, written in the same hand as before, brought mattersto a crisis:

  "_The nation has evidently more love for their surplus than for their President. The requisite ransom has reached six millions of dollars i
n gold. The treasury is not yet exhausted, nor are we. None can find us. Our defences are unapproachable. We laugh at your attempts. The wife of your President, we are grieved to say, is ill._"

  This proclamation aroused a new element, which had been smouldering, towhite heat. The women of the country rose _en masse_. They fired oldsocieties and organized new to collect ransom. The W. C. T. U. and W. H.M. A. and A. S. A. and A. B. C. and X. Q. B. Z. thrilled to theoccasion. Infant Bands of Hope and Daughters of Endeavor invaded privatefamilies with demands for penny subscriptions. Weeping women persuadeddollars by the tens, hundreds and thousands from responsive men. Theyrenounced their bon-bons and new dresses, parties and dowries in theirpatriotic fervor. The presidents of all the women's societies in theland trooped to Washington. They cried shame at those who trifled forthe sake of the fiftieth part of the gold in the vaults with the noblestlife in the Union. These unselfish women stormed the capital, andliterally poured two millions of dollars, which they had collected inless than three days, upon the floor of the House to rescue the firstlady of the land from who knew what? They forced their husbands, theirrepresentatives, to do their bidding, and the final vote was passed amidindescribable scenes.

  The ransom was now ready for the President and their lady. It had to beaccompanied by the national promise to secure freedom to those whodelivered up the suffering couple. That was the third of July. Still theimpotence of the nation in this new crisis filled thoughtful men withapprehension. Was it moral that cash instead of justice should be givento these stupendous criminals? What a precedent for infamous success! Ofwhat avail courts of law and prisons if such consummate daring goesunpunished? Is there a portion of our national machinery out of gear? Ifso, which? Nevertheless the excitement was now beyond fever heat. It issafe to say that the temperature of the people had risen ten degreeswhen the news was flashed abroad that the "President's money," as it wascalled, had been unanimously voted by Congress. Tears streamed aspatriots met each other. Many developed a new species of insanity intheir suspense.

  The country had now done its part toward the rescue of its chiefmagistrate and of his perishing consort. Would the abductors be true totheir portion of the contract? Party strife had been forgotten in thisnew anguish. All Fourth of July demonstrations had been postponed untila loving people's thanksgiving for their President's safety could blendwith the time honored celebration of a nation's birth.

  But suspense was not long delayed. Promptly the New York _Herald_received a manifesto, this time the last, sent by the arch-conspiratorsto Congress and the people. This envelope was boldly postmarkedWashington. This fact made those in the capital city almost afraid tostir from their homes lest unawares they might meet the demon in theirmidst who had dwarfed all principals in the records of crime up to thepresent date. But this final proclamation read as follows:

  TO CONGRESS AND ALL AMERICANS.

  _We note your late and liberal response to our proposal. We shall not be outdone in the honorable discharge of obligations. At precisely eight (8) o'clock on the morning of July sixth (6th) the payment of ransom and delivery of captives will take place within one mile of Washington's homestead, Mt. Vernon. The government vessel with ransom and proper officials on board will remain in near sight of Mt. Vernon. At our signal (which shall consist of four Japanese day rockets, each representing a flaming sword) whether hurled from land or water, the officers of the government will steam toward the place of delivery. Guards will fall back immediately upon the discharge of whistling bombs until the ransom and the ransomed meet. The Presidential party will bear a flag, vertically striped black and crimson. On its centre will be a gold half-eagle. Payment must be made as follows: There must be eighty (80) leathern bags, each containing one hundred thousand dollars ($100,000) in gold; the amount of ransom being eight million dollars ($8,000,000) for four weeks' board at one million dollars ($1,000,000) a week apiece. This money must be paid and its genuineness certificated upon the honor of the United States by the Secretaries of State and of the Treasury. If there is any suspicion of infidelity on the part of the nation, the President and his wife will be held for another month on the same terms. Should we be betrayed in the trust which we have reposed in the American people, on the 6th of July, at, or previous to the time of delivery, the distinguished hostages will immediately be put permanently beyond reach of hope._

  Unscrupulous and stern was the message, yet tinged with a spurious colorof honor that demanded the true blue in return. It was the consensus ofopinion that it would be madness to attempt arrest during theculminative ceremonies. The required gold was transferred from thetreasury vaults to the new and swift cruiser _Washington_.

  Final arrangements were made for giving the imprisoned couple the mostglorious reception which ingenuity and patriotism could devise.Reporters by hundreds bivouacked on the grounds of Mt. Vernon on thenight of the fifth. Gunboats, steamers, yachts and sail of everydescription congregated to the scene of the surrender. The land teemedwith sight-seers and soldiers with stacked arms. In the midst of allthis apparent disorder, Inspector Byrnes, on his own responsibility, hadhis thousand trained men, who patrolled every foot of ground within fivemiles of the historic site, and who had surveyed every inch of waterfrom the mouth of the Potomac to the city of Washington. He had hoped toretrieve his fame by a successful capture at the eleventh hour.

  At last, though it seemed a century in coming, the morning of the sixthof July broke solemnly upon Mt. Vernon. The revered site was flanked onall sides by seething, excited, hopeful humanity such as these historicshores had never before witnessed. The official command had been toabstain from all noise and confusion on land or water from the time ofthe sunrise gun.

  The cannon boomed from the new navy. Then came the hush. The last hoursof waiting were spent in maddening inactivity, in strained repose. Fromwhat quarter would the ominous signal be seen? Who would catch the firstglimpse of the boldest and most successful gang of malefactors that thiscountry had ever produced?