Amazed more at the young officer’s obstinate temerity than his words the General stared at him.

“How so?” he asked, with irony.

Harris opened out his hands with a simple gesture that seemed to leave his logic to the judgment of any impartial observer.

“In times of peace, my profession is that of the Law.  I know my ground—­and,” in rising tones of sincerity, “I challenge you to shake it in any civil court in Christendom.”

“Strong words, young man,” came the stern reply.  “For your sake, I hope they are warranted.  What is your point?  Get at it!”

Harris drew a short breath of relief.  He had cleverly switched the appeal from grounds on which he stood no chance whatever to those where he did not fear any intellect in a fair fight.

“The evidence,” he said calmly, “was purely circumstantial.  In the first place, it is alleged that my client captured a Rebel spy, one Herbert Cary, who was hiding in the loft of a cabin.”

The General’s caustic tones interrupted.  “To which fact,” he said, “there were only ten witnesses.”

“Yes, General,” was the faintly smiling agreement.  “Ten!  But not one of them actually saw the man!  They believe he was there, but they cannot swear to it.”

Grant made a motion as of putting away something of no consequence.  “Immaterial—­in view of the other facts.  Well—­what else?”

“Next, it is claimed that Morrison released this spy and allowed him to enter the Union lines—­without regard to consequences.”

The General gave a short exclamation of impatience, and struck the papers on his desk with the flat of his hand.

“And that is proved,” he said, sharply.  “Proved by several officers who stopped your spy at points along the road.”

He singled out a soiled piece of paper from the sheaf before him and held it up, a piece of paper which bore writing on both sides.

“When taken, this pass was found on his person.  Not circumstantial evidence, but fact.  Signed on one side by R.E.  Lee and, on the other, by Colonel Morrison.”  He laughed shortly over the futility of argument under such circumstances.  “Do you presume to contest this, too?”

To his amazement the young officer facing him bowed easily and smiled in turn.

“I do.  Emphatically. No pass was given Herbert Cary either by Colonel Morrison or General Lee.”

“What?” cried the General angrily.

Harris only pointed.

“Read it, sir—­if you please.”  He watched till Grant’s eyes started to scan the pass again, and then repeated the words which he knew so well.

“Pass Virginia Cary and escort through Federal—­and Confederate lines.”

“‘Virginia Cary,’ General, is a non-combatant and a child.  ‘Escort’ may mean a single person—­or it may mean a whole troop of cavalry.”