“No interference, Harris,” came the curt order.  “Answer me, Captain.  ‘Yes’ or ’No’!”

The Southerner’s face flushed and he threw back his head with the superb defiance that General Grant knew so well—­which was his one eternal stumbling block, and due to continue for another full year of blood.

“Under the rulings of court-martial law,” the Confederate Captain said in ringing tones, “I deny even your right to the question.”

To the surprise of everyone the General merely nodded.

“That is all, sir.  Thank you,” he said, and Cary, with a look of surprise, slowly resumed his seat.

“Mr. Morrison!”

The Union officer rose and saluted.

“As a military servant of the United States Government you were ordered to pursue this man and take him—­dead or alive.  In this you failed.”

Morrison inclined his head gravely but shot a look of respectful objection at his superior.

“In part—­I failed.”

Instantly the accusing forefinger was leveled at him across the desk and the point made with terrible directness.

“And knowing he was a spy!”

Morrison shook his head.

“Not to my personal knowledge, sir.  I hunted him many times; but never while he wore a Federal uniform.”

“And when you captured him?”

In reply, Morrison simply indicated Cary’s tattered coat of gray.

“Ah!  Then you did capture him?”

“Yes,” came the quiet answer.

“And he was the escort mentioned in your pass.”

“Yes,” Morrison answered slowly.

“H’m,” said the General.  He rose and turned to Harris.

“I am afraid, my dear Harris, that in spite of fine spun distinctions and your legal technicalities, the findings of our court were not far wrong.”

Dropping his handful of papers on the desk he caught Morrison’s eye and rasped out his analysis of the case.

“Captain Cary practically admits his guilt! You were aware of it!  And yet you send him through the very center of our lines!  A pass!  Carte blanche to learn the disposition of our forces—­our weakness and our strength—­and to make his report in Richmond.  He was an enemy—­with a price on his head!  And you trusted him! A spy!”

As the General had been speaking the first few words of his contemptuous summing up Morrison saw where they would lead and his manhood instantly leaped up in reply.

“I trusted, not the spy, but Herbert Cary,” he said with honest courage.  Then, as the General turned his back on him with a contemptuous snap of his fingers—­

“General!  I have offered no defense.  If the justice of court-martial law prescribes a firing squad—­I find no fault.  I failed.  I pay.”

With a gesture which indicated Gary the disgraced officer of the Army of the Potomac shot out his one and only defense of his action—­at an unyielding back.