He was not an agreeable looking man and Jeanne felt an instinctive distrust of him instantly. For a few moments she hesitated, and the thought came to her that she would not give him the papers. But was it not for this very thing that she had come to New Orleans? What would her father say if she did not fulfil her trust?

“You wished to see me?” said John Archer, and it seemed to Jeanne that he was trying to make signs to her.

“If you are Mr. John Archer?” and Jeanne looked at him steadily. “I came from Mr. Richard Vance.”

“Vance? Richard Vance?” repeated the other as if the name conveyed nothing of importance to his mind. “What Vance?”

“Why Richard Vance of New York City,” answered Jeanne in astonishment. She had inferred from what her father had said that John Archer would be well acquainted with the name. “He is my father, and he has sent me to you with some papers. If you are Mr. John Archer?”

“I am he,” answered the man, “but I know nothing about any papers.”

“I thought that you would,” murmured Jeanne. There seemed something strange to her in the way the man was acting. “My mother sewed them into my petticoat,” she continued with a growing reluctance against parting with them. “If there is any place where I could go I would get them. It seemed the best way to carry them.”

“Orderly,” interposed General Butler turning to them, “take the young lady to Mrs. Butler. My wife will gladly assist you,” he added to Jeanne.

“Thank you,” said Jeanne, gratefully hurrying after the Orderly. They soon reached the apartments set aside for the use of General Butler’s wife, and she herself opened the door in answer to the Orderly’s knock.

“Come right in,” she said cordially in response to Jeanne’s rapid explanation. “You are young to be sent on such an errand, my dear. But the times are such that we cannot always choose our messengers. Very often the young prove more reliable than older persons. You say that they are in your petticoat, my child?”

“Yes, ma’am,” returned Jeanne. “You see it made my frock stand out like crinoline and no one would think it was anything else.”

“And a good place it is too,” replied the lady busy with her scissors. “You have a thoughtful mother.”

“Mrs. Butler,” said the little girl suddenly after she and the lady had finished their task and the papers lay before them, “do you know John Archer?”

“No, child. Why?”

“He is the man to whom my father sent these papers,” said the girl thoughtfully. “Someway I do not like him. I wish he were not the man.”

“My dear,” reproved the lady gently, “we ought not to let our fancies dominate us. If the man came to the General’s rooms and was received there, rest assured that he is all right. The General has means of knowing whether a man is to be trusted or not.”

“True,” replied Jeanne, and feeling that it would be ungracious to give further expression to her distrust she went slowly back to the parlor. Why should she, a mere child, presume to doubt a man whom the General and even her own father trusted? “But I do wish,” sighed she as she opened the door of the apartment. “I do wish that he were not the man.”

“Here are the papers,” she said, going straight to Mr. Archer.

“Thank you.” Archer took the papers mechanically and without another word or look at her turned to the Orderly, and was conducted from the room.

Jeanne stood looking after him somewhat dismayed. Was this all? Some way she had thought, had expected it to be so different. Mr. Huntsworth, Captain Leathers, even the great Farragut had seemed to consider that she had done wonders in carrying the papers but this man thought nothing of her action. Tears of disappointment welled to her eyes.

“Never mind, child,” said Farragut seeing her distress. “Some people are so matter of fact that they suppose the whole world is of the same way of thinking. Besides, the consciousness of a good action is its own reward.”

“Ye-es,” said Jeanne, “I know that it ought to be. It says so in my copy-book. But I thought that it would be so different.”

“It would be a fine thing if all our acts would receive approbation,” remarked General Butler. “Brass bands and calcium lights are things that human nature craves for deeds well done, but they are seldom given. That is, until one dies.”

“Don’t be cynical, General,” laughed Farragut. “The child will find it out soon enough.”

“Yes; I suppose so,” replied Butler. “Didn’t you say something about an uncle, Admiral?”

“Yes; that is the next thing in order. She is to stay with him until her father tells her to return. Her uncle is Benjamin Vance.”

“Whe-ew,” whistled the General an expression of blank amazement on his face. “Did you say Benjamin Vance?”

“Certainly. Do you know him?”

“I do,” replied the General emphatically. “And this girl is his niece, and she brings papers down here to Archer? It is about the boldest thing I ever heard of!”

“Why! What do you mean?”“I’ll tell you presently. Come here, girl. Do you hear often from your uncle?” he asked as Jeanne approached.

“No, sir. Father has not heard from him in years. He came South long before I was born, but I remembered that he lived here when I was getting father to let me bring the papers.”

“Isn’t it strange that you should have remembered it just at that time?” questioned Butler sharply.

“Why, no,” answered the girl regarding him with wide open eyes. “I have heard my father speak of Uncle Ben all my life, and when New Orleans was mentioned I always thought of him. So I said that I was coming to see Uncle Ben when I was truly bringing the papers to Mr. Archer. Father thought it was best.”

“I see. What is in the papers?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Jeanne looked at him so innocently that he was compelled to believe her.

“Well, you at least, are innocent, I do believe. Now, child, what else did you bring? Anything for your uncle?”

“I brought him some quinine,” answered Jeanne half laughing. “Father had it fixed for me in my lunch basket. He said if I should fall in with the rebels and they questioned me too closely I was to own up about it. See! here is the basket. The quinine is right down in this place.”

“I don’t understand about the thing,” said the General in a low tone to the Admiral. “The girl is either the most innocent person in the world and everything is exactly as she says, or she is a consummate actress, young as she is.”

“General, what in the world do you mean?” queried Farragut.

“I mean,” said General Butler sternly, “that it looks very much to me as if some mischief were afloat. John Archer is under arrest for disloyalty to the government. Naturally this makes it bad for the girl.”

“Then,” said Farragut gravely, “why did you permit him to have those papers?”

“He will not have them long. Did you not notice an Orderly go out after him?”

“I saw a man go out, but I thought nothing of it,” was the response.

“That man has his orders. Archer was relieved of the papers as soon as he left the room. I wanted to get all the evidence against him that I could hence I did not tell you about the matter at first. I thought that he might recognize the girl or she him.”

“I believe that you are wrong,” said Farragut earnestly. “I know nothing of course about Archer, but I would stake my life that what the girl says is true. It would be bold indeed to deliver documents serviceable to the enemy under our very noses.”

“The very boldness of the scheme would make it successful. Besides, the fellow’s arrest is recent. His accomplices in the North cannot possibly have heard of it as yet. He has been in the service of the Union until suspected of furnishing information to the enemy. You can see why the girl would deliver the papers before us. Another thing, her uncle, Benjamin Vance, is one of the worst rebels in the city.”

“What!” cried Farragut.

“Yes.”

“But she is too young to enter into any such scheme.”

“Ah! you do not know these people as I do. They are perfectly unscrupulous as regards ways and means when it comes to carrying a point. Do you know the girl’s father? I judged not from what you told me of meeting with her.”

“No,” admitted Farragut. “But she carried a letter to Commodore Porter with a few lines from Wallace at Memphis to me. Really you must be mistaken.”

“Letters can be forged,” said Butler sententiously. “And sometimes wheedled from officers, as we know to our sorrow. She may be but a tool of persons who hope that her youth will protect her from the consequences. You must confess that it looks bad. Ah, Johnson,” as his Orderly made his appearance, “did you get them?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jeanne started forward with a cry of amazement as the Orderly laid upon the table the very papers which she had given John Archer but a short time before.

General Butler spread them before him for inspection.

“You can see for yourself that they contain important information,” he said to Farragut. “This thing would be all right if Archer were loyal; otherwise it may show how it happens that the enemy obtains so much information that it should not. The girl is certainly an emissary of the Confederates.”

“A what?” cried Jeanne starting forward indignantly, for the General had raised his voice and she had overheard the last words. “What did you say, sir?”

“I said,” and the General turned to her abruptly and spoke sternly, “that unless you can prove otherwise, that you are sent with these papers to Archer for the rebels.”

“Why, my father sent me,” cried the girl blankly. “He is in the employ of the government and so is Mr. Archer.”

“Archer was until quite recently, but he is now under arrest on strong suspicion of giving information to the enemy. You see everything is known, child. Tell the truth. Who sent you here?”

“My father,” said Jeanne again, looking piteously from one to the other. “Oh, what does he mean, Admiral? What does he mean?”

“Child,” Farragut took her hand kindly. “Tell me truly. What is your father?”

“He is in the employ of the government,” reiterated Jeanne vehemently. “He sends communications all over the states, because he told me so. He said that telegraphs were not to be trusted, nor the mails either. For that reason people were sent to the different cities with information about the government.”

“That proves nothing,” said the General, “unless it can be substantiated. Why then do you want to visit your uncle–if you are loyal–when he is such a rebel?”

“A rebel?” cried Jeanne recoiling in horror. “Is my uncle a rebel?”