War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy/Chapter 25
XXV
ORDER NUMBER 249
ON MY bureau was a note she had written for me.
"Daddy," it said, "I am Mallory—this is the only solution. They know in the North now. They know in the South. And you know what they do to spies. Both sides. And the horror of it is that they won't do it to me, but to Dave, who they think is—Mallory. But if they know that Mallory has gone from here to Stuart, and I have made that certain, all will be well, only, he must turn up there—oh, daddy, daddy, daddy! Can't you help me? Can't some one? Just think of it! I must be a soldier. I'll die of shame, of course, but I daren't until I have taken the danger from you-all, and am known as Mallory.
"You see, daddy, dear, how horrid a master evil becomes. I began to help—just help the South a little in my anger, in my madness for vengeance. That wasn't bad, was it, to help my people?—oh, I do love them! And Dave hadn't come and there was no Dave-love. Well, I couldn't tell them that I was a woman—a girl, in fact—could I?—that wouldn't have been nice—so I let them think I was a man. I took the name of Lucas Mallory. Daddy, the thing I didn't think of—didn't once expect, was that they would not suspect me, when it came to suspecting, but all of you, and last have to think Dave was Mallory. See? Well, there is nothing to be done but for me, who brought the evil upon you, to take it with me. This I do to-night. The spy, Lucas Mallory, disappears to-night and reappears in the Confederate army. All of his activity here will cease. I have signaled that and when Stuart corroborates me, which I shall see to, you will hear no more of suspicion or treason—and will be left at peace. But me—where, what shall I be? And Dave—will he hate me?
"Keep on loving me, oh, please! Make them all love me—always! Don't tell Dave. Say I was drowned—or something like that. If you knew how hard it is! If you knew the sacrifice! I must go. The signals are getting violent—Good-by! Forever, good-by!"
Something brought to mind the bundle of papers the officer had dropped that day when he got Betsy's pies. I went and got them.
They were mostly letters from a wife and a little girl—with their photographs. But there was one which wasn't.
"Order No. 249," it read. "All persons in the guise of pretended loyal citizens, acting under false names or other false pretenses, within our lines, and giving aid, arms, ammunition or supplies of any kind whatsoever, or furnishing information to, or communicating with, the enemy, are spies, and are to be taken, condemned, and shot as such. In this connection, the government, and the general commanding the department, call your attention to the rumors of the activity of a secret, treasonable organization named the Knights of the Golden Circle, composed of so-called Copperheads, and sympathizers, for the purpose of furnishing comfort, giving aid, supplies, recruits and information of our movements to the enemy, a lodge of which is said to be in your immediate vicinity. You are especially expected to capture and thus summarily end the activity of a spy named Lucas Mallory, a man who has, thus far, eluded all attempts to take him. Before his execution you will endeavor to secure from him such information as will enable you to apprehend all members of the said treasonable organization, or organizations, together with such evidence as can be secured, as well as to locate the said lodge and capture and dispose of all persons having anything to do with its operation. The general is determined that this hotbed of treason shall be stamped out. And to effect this you are hereby given military authority adequate to the object proposed."