It was arranged that Sprague’s counsel should see the judge-advocate at once, Kate giving him the address in case by any accident she should be prevented from seeing the Spragues.  As she left the room, under a fusillade of admiring glances, she leaned on her father’s arm, trembling but resolute.  She now knew the worst, and she had no further terror.  As they reached the door, her father asked: 

“Where are you going?  I suppose I need not tell you that I was on my way home when I came here, for I suppose you have been spying on my movements.”

“Never.  I feared you were acting unwisely, but I never dreamed of watching you.  Providence has put your plans in my hands at nearly every step, but I was so ignorant that, of myself, the information would have done but little service to poor Jack.  I came into the court by the merest chance.  I saw you get into the cab at Willard’s, and as I had only reached Washington, I wanted to see you before you went away.  I drove after you—­followed without the slightest suspicion of the place or your purpose in it.”

“Well, all your running about is useless.  He will be sentenced to death and the family disgraced.  Nothing can now prevent that.”

“Yes, Jack can prevent it!  I can prevent it!”

“How?”

“Jack will be found.  Surely they dare not commit such a monstrous crime against the absent, the undefended!”

“Well, we won’t talk of it.  I suppose you are with the Spragues?”

“Yes; I shall remain with them until this is ended.”

“What if I should tell you to come home with me?”

“I should, of course, obey you if you commanded me.  But before doing so I should have to put my statement in legal shape—­that is, swear to it, and give my address to the court that I might be regularly summoned.”

“You know something of law, too, I see.  I sha’n’t ask you to go home, nor shall I go myself.  I shall remain to see how this affair turns out.”

They were driving down Pennsylvania Avenue now.  Kate, recalling her departure, asked, “You did not get the letter I left for you at home?”

“No, I did not know you were gone.”

“I left a few lines to tell you that I had seen Jones.”  She watched him as she said this.  He did not start, as she expected.  His lips were suddenly compressed and his eye grew dark; then he smiled grimly.

“I hope you felt repaid for your trouble.”

“Yes.  I felt amply repaid.  Jones has undertaken to find out what became of Jack after his arrival at the Union outposts.”

“Did you discuss the whole affair with him?”

“Yes.  I was greatly relieved by what I learned.  I was afraid you had some sinister purpose in secreting him as the only link between Jack and his friends.  It gave me new life to find that you had been so tender and thoughtful to Jones, for, as the event proved, he no sooner learned that there were apprehensions as to Jack’s safety, than he set about his discovery.”