ce could be placed in him,
he certainly possesses, perhaps in a much greater degree than any
other individual in this country, all the talents, energy,
intrepidity, and firmness which it requires for such an enterprise."]

The dark eye of Aaron Burr flashed.

"Then," said he firmly, "success will meet our efforts--I guarantee
it! I pledge all my personal fortune, my friends, my family, to the
last member."

"I am for my country," said Mr. Merry simply. "It is plain to see that
Napoleon sought to humble us by ceding that great region to this
republic. He meant to build up in the New World another enemy to Great
Britain. But if we can thwart him--if at the very start we can divide
the forces which might later be allied against us--perhaps we may
conquer a wider sphere of possession for ourselves on this rich
continent. There is no better colonizing ground in all the world!"

"You understand my plan," said Aaron Burr. "Reduced to the least
common denominator, Meriwether Lewis and my daughter Theodosia have
our fate in their hands."

The others rose. The hour was past midnight. The secret conference had
been a long one.

"He starts tomorrow--is that sure?" asked Merry.

"As the clock," rejoined Burr. "She must see him before the breakfast
hour."

"My compliments, Colonel Burr. Good night!"

"Good night, sir," added Yrujo. "It has been a strange day."

"Secrecy, gentlemen, secrecy! I hope soon to have more news for you,
and good news, too. _Au revoir!_"

Burr himself accompanied them to the door.

CHAPTER VII

COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER

One instant Aaron Burr sat, his head dropped, revolving his plans. The
next, he pulled the bell-cord and paced the floor until he had answer.

"Go at once to Mrs. Alston's rooms, Charles," said he to the servant.
"Tell her to rise and come to me at once. Tell her not to wait. Do you
hear?"

He still paced the floor until he heard a light _frou-frou_ in the
hall, a light knock at the door. His daughter entered, her eyes still
full of sleep, her attire no more than a loose peignoir caught up and
thrown above her night garments.

"What is it, father--are you ill?"

"Far from it, my child," said he, turning with head erect. "I am
alive, well, and happier than I have been for months--years. I need
you--come, sit here and listen to me."

He caught her to him with a swift, paternal embrace--he loved no
mortal being as he did his daughter--then pushed her tenderl