"What! the man who attended us to the theatre on the night ray dear, good husband was murdered! He, I believe, is one of the murderers. Tell him to come in to me."
The messenger had overheard Mrs. Lincoln's words through the half-open door, and when he came in he was trembling violently.
She turned to him fiercely: "So you are on guard to-night—on guard in the White House after helping to murder the President!"
"Pardon me, but I did not help to murder the President. I could never stoop to murder—much less to the murder of so good and great a man as the President."
"But it appears that you did stoop to murder."
"No, no! don't say that," he broke in. "God knows that I am innocent."
"I don't believe you. "Why were you not at the door to keep the assassin out when he rushed into the box?"
"I did wrong, I admit, and I have bitterly
