When Calhoun entered the private office he saw seated at a desk a dignified-looking gentleman about sixty years of age, who eyed him sharply, and Calhoun was sure a look of disappointment came over his face. This, then, was the gentleman who wished to see him on very important business—hardly more than a boy. He did not even ask Calhoun to be seated, but said, in a cold voice: “Well, what do you want? Be in a hurry, for I am very busy.” This was not the kind of reception Calhoun was looking for. Gulping down his indignation, he said: “I am just from the South, I was directed to come to you, who would prove a friend.” “Ah! some one must have taken an unwarranted liberty with my name.” While he was saying this, Calhoun was aware a pair of steel-gray eyes were trying to read his very soul. “Is that all?” at length continued the Judge. “I have no time to give you; as I told you, I am very busy,” and he dismissed his visitor with a wave of the hand. As a last resort Calhoun gave the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. There was no recognition; instead a testy, “Why don’t you go?” Calhoun’s face flamed with anger, but controlling himself, he replied: “When you receive some mail from the South, you may find some dispatches from General Forrest which will cause you to treat me differently. If such dispatches come, be here in your office at nine o’clock to-night.” When Calhoun mentioned “mail from the South,” and “General Forrest,” the Judge turned pale, and Calhoun fancied he made a motion as if to stop him; but the young man paid no attention to the signal, and strode indignantly from the office. No sooner was he gone than the Judge turned eagerly to a pile of mail which he had just received, and which the coming of Calhoun had interrupted him in reading. Hurriedly running over the letters, he picked out one, and opened it with nervous fingers. It was written in cipher. Opening a secret drawer in his desk, he took out the key to the cipher, and began the translation of the dispatch. As he did so, he gave vent to his surprise in various exclamations. “Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Morgan’s staff ... will go by name of W. B. Harrison ... comes North to fully investigate conditions.... If favorable will invade North.... Pennington is member of K. G. C.” The Judge laid down the letter and seemed to be gazing into vacancy. He was thinking—thinking hard. At last he picked up the letter and read it through to the end. Then he made preparations to go out. “I shall not be back again this afternoon,” he said to his clerk, as he passed out. “You can lock up the office when you leave. I shall not need you this evening.” When Calhoun called that evening, he was met at the door by the Judge, and given a reception much different from that he received in the afternoon. “I am glad to see you, Lieutenant,” said the Judge, and he raised his hand as if in military salute, but was careful not to touch his forehead.