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with the other hand reached down inside, pressing firmly on a small pencil mark near the bottom. A faint click sounded and the bottom swung up on one side, held on the other by an invisible hinge. Taking out a single slip of paper that lay in the false compartment beneath, she remembered Huger’s instructions when he had given it to her: Keep any messages for your contact in this compartment. When you have something to give him, put it in here. Then go for a walk to a place he designates, and leave the case on a bench—as if you’ve forgotten it. Later, go back for it. You’ll find your message gone and new instructions in its place.
    Belle took a pen and a sheet of stationery from the deskand wrote “Agent in place” and her message. When she had finished, she folded the sheet and sealed it; then from a slip of paper in her hand she copied a name and address on the front of the letter. Inserting her note, she closed the compartment and replaced the contents.
    It had been a long day, so she undressed and lay on the bed; but despite her fatigue, she could not sleep. About midnight it began to snow, and she watched the flakes softly falling to the earth. How she wished she could feel as clean and fresh as the bright silver mantle that would soon blanket the brown soil!

CHAPTER FOUR
    BELLE MEETS STANTON
    For most people a seasonal party was only an opportunity to gather with a few friends and enjoy a time of fellowship and laughter. But not for Mrs. Jewel Winslow. To her, a Christmas party was like every other social function—a means of increasing her standing in Washington circles. Her husband’s goal was no less secular, for he saw everything through a politician’s jaundiced eye, and was quick to turn any meeting into a useful platform to promote his politics.
    Their home had been built to stage such spectacles, with most of the lower floor comprising a huge ballroom, and on the night of December 23 it was nearly filled to capacity.
    “Good lord, Jewel!” Robert complained as the pair descended the curving staircase leading down from the sleeping quarters, “did you invite everybody in Washington?”
    “I don’t think you appreciate how hard I work for you, Robert,” Jewel said reproachfully. “It’s gotten to be quite an honor to be at our Christmas Ball. Anybody who isn’t asked—isn’t anybody. ”
    He grinned, knowing that to a large extent she was right. Many major policy decisions of the United States had their origin in the cliques that met at such parties. “Is Stanton going to be here?”
    “He promised he would—if I could guarantee that the President wouldn’t. ” Jewel frowned, and added as they reached the foyer and turned into the ballroom, “Edwin is much more gifted than Lincoln! It’s a shame he’s not the president!”
    “Stanton’s feelings are pretty plain—that Abe is Edwin’s assistant.” Robert grinned sardonically. It was common knowledge that the secretary of war treated the President as if he were slightly retarded. Stanton had even been heard to say on several occasions that the only salvation of the Union lay in his hands, not those of a country rail-splitter.
    “I hope you seated Mrs. Wickham as far away from Stanton as possible,” he remarked. “He’s liable to have her arrested for no other reason than that she was in Richmond a few days ago.”
    “Edwin has to be hard on the Rebels!” Jewel snapped. “The President is far too lax.”
    Half the ballroom was occupied with banquet tables, with guests already seated, while the other half was left for the dancing that would follow. The walls and ceiling were decorated with holly and mistletoe, and the great clusters of candles from the chandeliers reflected their golden light in the brass buttons and insignia of the Union officers who sat at the long tables. Their dark blue uniforms served as a counterpoint to the reds, blues, and whites of the women’s dresses, and Jewel was pleased.
    “There’s Edwin,”