“This is the first time we've seen each other in a couple of years, isn't it?” asked McClellan as he finished his meal. “If so. it's been too long. With your background and experience, you should be in the army. If you like, I can offer you a colonelcy on my staff.”

“It's a gracious offer,” Nathan said, “and I'll think about it. I admit I have been wondering just what is the best way I can serve my country.” “Surely,” McClellan said, “you can do better than espousing the cause of General Scott.”

Ah, there it is, thought Nathan. “I'm not sure I espouse his cause or anyone else's, General. He invited me to join him because he had some concerns that, quite honestly, I didn't understand or share at the time.”

“Do you share them now?” McClellan asked. He allowed himself a small smile, but Nathan saw that the man was tense, a coiled spring, and he thought he saw a flicker of indecision, even fear, in McClellan's eyes.

“Not particularly. Right now I'm more curious than concerned. I must admit that I am also enjoying the social life in Washington.” This time McClellan grinned widely. '^:Ah yes, the Widow Devon.”

Nathan bristled inwardly with both anger and surprise. What the devil concern was his personal life to General McClellan and the Army of the Potomac? He'd had a couple of pleasant lunches and one evening at Ford Theater with the Widow Devon, but that was as far as it went. In each case, the D^:Estaing^:s had been present, which meant it was more than aboveboard as far as propriety and scandal were concerned. He was growing quite fond of Rebecca and didn't like the idea of anyone prying into what might develop into something very special.

It was Pinkerton, of course, who was doing the prying. The man had been a private detective before the war. Now he was feeding information to McClellan about the size and composition of the Confederate army, along with whom Nathan Hunter dined. Incredible. If he caught Pinkerton or one of his men spying on them, Nathan decided he would give them a very solid warning to back off.

Nathan was now determined that he would never be an official member of McClellan's staff, although he wouldn't mind being an unofficial member for a period of time.

McClellan brought the conversation back to his main topic. “And what are General Scott's concerns? That he is too old and I am too young? I agree with the former, but the latter has to be determined. I do not think I am too young or too inexperienced.” He smiled. “You and I are about the same age, aren't we? Wouldn't you like to command here?”

“Absolutely not,” Nathan replied. “As to the general's concerns, your youth is not the issue. He is not confident that you will move resolutely against the Confederacy,” Nathan answered. “He feels that you have been misled by information provided by your intelligence that Joe Johnston has far more soldiers confronting you than he actually does.”

McClellan's expression turned stern. “Mr. Pinkerton provides me with exactly the information I wish. His operatives count regiments and make estimates as to their numbers and quality. The work is excessively dangerous and I am impressed by their achievements. I take Pinkerton's results and increase them by a factor that would include those regiments that cannot be found, and soldiers who cannot be seen. I am governed by the fact that the South has the capability to put a very large force into the field to confront me, and that their force outnumbers mine. Their capabilities define their potential and, thusly, their threat to us. I believe the Confederates number well in excess of two hundred thousand well-trained men, and that they are increasing daily. God only knows how large the Southern army will be when the British arrive to further strengthen it. My poor army could easily be overwhelmed.”

Nathan was astonished that McClellan would state his case so bluntly and so negatively. “I find that difficult to comprehend. In order to do what you believe. Jeff Davis would have to enlist or conscript just about every man in the Confederacy, which would ruin their economy. Then they would have to strip every garrison and send the soldiers here. I cannot imagine that they would leave New Orleans, Charleston, Mobile, and other places vulnerable.”

Nathan didn't bother to ask where the South would get the weapons and ammunition to arm such a host, or the food to feed it, or the uniforms and other accoutrements of warfare necessary for its existence. McClellan's stern expression told him not to ask.

“My duty,” McClellan announced solemnly, “is to see to the preservation of the Union. If that means I plan for the worst possible contingency, then so be it.” “The preservation of the Union is Mr. Lincoln's goal.”

“Yet it is a vision we see differently,” McClellan said. “He wishes to bring the departed states back to the fold, while I wish to retain what we have until such time as a peace with honor can be negotiated. I have an army that cannot win in a decade, but can be defeated catastrophically in an afternoon. If my army is defeated, it may mean that the border states, which are very pro-South, might rebel and secede. Can you imagine what would happen if we lost Maryland, for instance? Washington would no longer be on the border of the Confederacy. No, she would be surrounded by it and would have to be abandoned.”

“Mr. Lincoln is adamant that you should invade the South and force her to her knees,” Nathan said. “I believe that is his definition of preserving the Union.”

“The president of the United States is a buffoon and a baboon. Surely you've noticed that he is no more fit to be president than I am to be pope. It is a tragedy that, at this most critical time in our history, we are led by a man who has no concept of reality. I sometimes wonder if Lincoln is even sane. I'm sure you've heard that he suffers from periodic fits of deep melancholy that he calls the ^:hypo,' and that he is incapable of functioning for days at a time.”

“Yes, I've heard that,” Nathan said. “So what are you going to do about the invasion that is on everyone's mind?”

“And in all the newspapers,” McClellan said wryly. “What I shall do, Nathan, is quite simple. I shall give the baboon his attack, but I will act in such a manner so as to prevent disaster. We shall probe southward in force while protecting the Shenandoah from a flanking attack. I shall move west of Manassas and try to find the rebel flank. However, I will take care to ensure that I am not myself flanked.” He laughed sardonically. “It would not do for me to have the Confederates in my rear while I am in theirs. No, I would be cut off, overwhelmed, and destroyed.”

“And when you meet the rebels? What then?”

“We will fight until I feel that we are compromised. Then we shall withdraw to our defenses around Washington. At that time, I trust that the president will see the light and recognize that 'preserving the Union' means hanging on to what one has, and not grasping futilely and childishly for what one cannot have.”

“I understand,” Nathan said thoughtfully. After all the words had been spoken, the meaning was simple. General George McClellan was not going to risk victory. He was dazzled to paralysis by the fear of a Confederate army that was too large for reality.

“Is there no chance of victory, General?”

“Only if Johnston makes a serious mistake. If he does, then be assured I will pounce. But do you really think a general of Johnston's experience will make a mistake? I don't.”

“May I ask a favor of you_: General?”

“Name it” McClellan said expansively. He felt that he'd found a good listener to his philosophy in Nathan.

“I would like to accompany you when you take the army south.”

“Excellent,” said McClellan. “I am honored to have you. Then you will see the truth.”