He watched a young clerk from the War Department stake his last dollar, lose, and stagger from the table with a haunted, desperate look. Ned followed him into two saloons and saw the bartenders refuse him credit. He walked through the door of the last saloon, his legs trembling and his white lips twitching, stopped and leaned against the wall of the little bookstore on the corner, the flickering street lamp showing dimly his ghastly face and eyes. Ned glanced uneasily behind him to see that he had not been followed. He had left under the impression that a secret service man had seen them both leave. He knew that Baker, the head of the Department, might know the name of every clerk who frequented a gambling den. No one was in sight and he debated for a moment the problem of offering this boy the bribe to get from Stanton's office the information he wanted. It was a question of character and his judgment of it. Could he speak the word to this boy that might send one or both to the gallows? He was well born. His father was a man of sterling integrity and a firm supporter of the Union. The boy was twenty-two years old and had been a pet in the fast circle of society in which he had moved for the last three years. If his love for his country were the real thing, he would hand Ned over as a spy without a moment's hesitation. If the mania for gambling had done its work he would do anything for money. Ned's own life was in the decision. He took another look into the haggard face and made up his mind. He started on as if to pass him, stopped suddenly and extended his hand: "Hello, Dick, what's up?" The boy glowered at him and answered with a snarl: "I don't know you----" Ned drew a sigh of relief. One danger was passed. He couldn't recognize him. The rest should be easy. "You don't need to, my boy," he whispered. "You're looking for a friend--money?" "Yes. I'll sell my soul into hell for it right now," he gasped. "You don't need to do that." Ned drew two hundred dollars in gold from his pocket and clinked the coin. "You see that gold?" "Yes, yes--what do you want for it?" "I want you to get for me to-morrow morning the exact number of men in McClellan's army. I want the figures from Stanton's office--you understand. I want the name of each command, its numbers and its officers. I know already half of them. So you can't lie to me. Give me this information here to-morrow night and the gold is yours. Will you do it?" The boy glanced at Ned for a moment: "I'll see you in hell first. I've a notion to arrest you--damned if I don't----" He wheeled and started toward the corner. Ned's left hand gripped his with the snap of a steel trap, his right holding his revolver. "Don't you be a fool. I know that you're ruined. I saw you in Joe Hall's----" The boy's jaw dropped. "You saw me?" he stammered. "Yes. You're done for, and you know it. Bring me those figures and I'll double the pile--four hundred dollars."