There is nothing else for it. The mere thought is gall and wormwood; and yet Aaron’s dream must vanish before what stubborn conditions confront him. As a best move toward extricating himself from the tangle into which the perfidy of the red-nosed one has forced him, Aaron decides to go to Washington. He informs the leading spirits about him of his purpose, mounts the finest horse to be had for money, and sets out. It is a week later. One Perkins meets Aaron at the Alabama village of Wakeman. The thoroughbred air of the man on the thoroughbred horse sets Perkins to thinking. After ten minutes’ study, Perkins is flooded of a great light. “Aaron Burr!” he cries, and rushes off to Fort Stoddart. Perkins, out of breath, tells his news to Captain Gaines. Two hours later, as Aaron comes riding down a hill, he is met by Captain Gaines and a sober file of soldiers. The captain salutes: “You are Colonel Burr,” he says. “I arrest you by order of President Jefferson. You must go with me to Fort Stoddart, where you will be treated with the respect due one who has honorably filled the second highest post of Government.” “Sir,” responds Aaron, unruffled and superior, “I am Colonel Burr. I yield myself your prisoner; since, with the force at your command, it is not possible to do otherwise.” Aaron rides with Captain Gaines to the fort. As the two dismount at the captain’s quarters, a beautiful woman greets them. “This is my wife, Colonel Burr,” says Captain Gaines. Then, to Madam Gaines: “Colonel Burr will be our guest at dinner.” Aaron, the captain, and the beautiful Madam Gaines go in to dinner. Two sentries with fixed bayonets march and countermarch before the door. Aaron beholds in them the sign visible that his program of empire, which has cost him so much and whereon his hopes were builded so high, is forever thrust aside. Smooth, polished, deferential, brilliant--the beautiful Madam Gaines says she has yet to meet a more fascinating man! Aaron is never more steadily composed, never more at polite ease than now when power and empire vanish for all time. “You appreciate my position, sir,” says Captain Gaines, as they rise from the table. “I trust you do not blame me for performing my duty.” “Sir,” returns Aaron, with an acquiescent bow, “I blame only the hateful, thick stupidity of Jefferson, and my own criminal dullness in trusting a scoundrel.” CHAPTER XIX--HOW AARON IS INDICTED IT is evening at the White House. The few dinner guests have departed, and Jefferson is alone in his study. As he stands at the open window, and gazes out across the sweep of lawn to the Potomac, shining like silver in the rays of the full May moon, his face is cloudy and angry. The face of the sage of Monticello has put aside its usual expression of philosophy. In place of the calm that should reign there, the look which prevails is one of narrowness, prejudice and wrathful passion.