"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." To his infinite relief and joy his Commanding General looked up at him thoughtfully, then slowly rose from his desk and took a turn about the room, followed by a faint blue trail of cigar smoke. He paused. "And what does _Cary_ say?" he asked. Again Harris smiled the quiet smile of the lawyer who has been confronted with such questions before and knows well how to answer them. "He, too, is on trial for his life. His evidence, naturally, was not admitted." "Ah! Then what says _Morrison_?" "Nothing, sir," was the young lieutenant's calm reply. "The burden of proof lies with the prosecution--not with the defendant." "And this is your contention--your _legal_ flaw in my machine?" the General asked sharply. "It is." "Very good, sir--very good. In that case we'll call in these silent partners and dig into this case until we reach rock bottom!" "Forbes," he ordered. "Send for the prisoner, Mr. Morrison--and the Rebel, Herbert Cary. I want both of them here--at once!" In the pause which followed the Adjutant's exit Harris interposed an objection. "Your method, General, is hardly just to the interests of my client." Grant turned on him with something mere than impatience. He was growing angry. "Lieutenant Harris! Are you asking me to pardon a guilty man? It's the truth I want--not legal technicalities. Next you'll be asking me not to hang this Rebel spy because he has--a baby!" He went back to his accustomed place at the window and stood looking out again, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, the eternal cigar smoke rising above his head. Then, to the young lieutenant's amazement, he asked a question in tones of ordinary conversation. "Harris," he said. "Who was the man who preferred these charges to start with?" "Corporal Dudley," was the eager answer. "And there, General, is another point and a vital one that was not brought out. In reporting his Colonel, Dudley was actuated not by a spirit of military duty, but personal revenge." "Revenge? Why?" "Because Morrison shot and killed Dudley's brother--a Sergeant in his command."