"You're a brave man, Ned Vaughan, the kind of man that saves this world from hell--the kind that makes this Nation great and worth saving whole! I wish I could keep you here--but I can't. You know that--good-bye----" "Good-bye, sir," was the firm answer. The mother began to sob piteously until Betty spoke something softly in her ear. Ned turned, pressed her to his heart, and held her in silence. He took Betty's hand and bent to kiss it. "You shall not die," she whispered tensely. "I'm going to save you." She felt the answering pressure and knew that he understood. Betty held the mother at the door a moment and spoke in low tones: "I can get permission from the President to delay the execution until his sister may arrive and say good-bye to him in prison the night before the execution. Wait and I'll get it now." The mother stood and gazed in a stupor of dull despair while Betty pressed to his desk and begged the last favor. It was granted without hesitation. [Illustration: "'You're a brave man, Ned Vaughan.'"] The President wrote the order delaying the death for three days and handed her his card on which was written: "Admit the bearer, the sister of the prisoner, Ned Vaughan, the night before his execution to see him for five minutes. "A. LINCOLN." "I'm sorry, little girl, I couldn't do more for _your_ sake--but you understand?" Betty nodded, returned the pressure of his hand and hurriedly left the room. The hanging was fixed for the following Friday at noon. The pass would admit his sister on Thursday night. Betty had three days in which to work. She drew every dollar of her money and went at her task swiftly, silently, surely, until she reached the guard inside the grim old prison, who held the keys to the death watch. She couldn't trust the sister with her daring plan. She might lose her nerve. She must impersonate her. It was a dangerous piece of work, but it was not impossible. She had only to pass the inspectors. The guards inside were her friends. On Thursday night at eight o'clock a carriage drew up at the little red brick house, on whose door flashed the brass plate sign: ELIZABETH GARLAND, MODISTE She had made an appointment with Mrs. Lincoln's dressmaker and arranged for it at this late hour. She must not be seen leaving her father's house to-night. She drove rapidly to the Capitol, stopped her carriage at the north end, entered the building through the Senate wing, quickly passed out again, and in a few minutes had presented her pass to the commandant of the Old Capitol Prison. The woman inspector made the most thorough search and finding nothing suspicious, allowed her to enter the dimly lighted corridor of the death watch. The turnkey loudly announced: "The sister of the prisoner, Ned Vaughan!"