The trick was _too_ smoothly done. No woman with
an unbalanced mind would have been capable of it.
With extraordinary care the Captain followed her through the crowded
streets and saw her pass Socola in front of the Custom House. No sign of
recognition was made by either, but he saw the stenographer stoop and
pick up something from the edge of the sidewalk.
He would have thought nothing of such an act had he not been following
this woman on whom his suspicions had been fixed. He leaped at once to
the truth.
Miss Van Lew had dropped a cypher message and Socola had taken it.
He watched her again the next day, and, suddenly turning the corner of
an obscure street, saw Socola speak to her in low quick tones, raising
his voice on his appearance to an idle conventional greeting.
He passed them without apparently noticing anything unusual and hurried
to his office with his suspicions now a burning certainty. He had only
to wait his opportunity to trap his quarry in the possession of a
dispatch that would send him to the gallows.
His evidence was not yet sufficient to ask for his arrest. It was
sufficient to convince Jennie Barton whose loyalty to the South was so
intense she would not walk on the same side of the street with Miss Van
Lew.
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