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"I was married. Six years. To a colonel in the Marine Corps. I still carry the scars."
"Physical or mental?"
"Both."
Mildred dropped the subject and picked up the fiberboard case that housed the documents, and checked the file number. "You're in the ball park. This file contains the bulk of Wilson's naval correspondence."
"I've pretty much exhausted them," said Heidi. "Can you think of any avenue I might have missed?"
Mildred stared into space a moment. "A slim possibility. Give me ten minutes."
She returned in five, carrying another document case. "Unpublished material that hasn't been Cataloged yet," she said with a pontifical grin. "Might be worth a look."
Heidi scrutinized the yellowed letters. Most were in the President's own hand. Advice to his three daughters, explanations of his stand against Tammany Hall to William Jennings Bryan during the Democratic convention of 1912, personal messages to Ellen Louise Axson, his first wife, and Edith Boning Gait, his second.
Fifteen minutes before closing time Heidi unfolded a letter addressed to Herbert Henry Asquith, the Prime Minister of Britain. The paper appeared creased in irregular lines as though it had once been wadded up. The date was June 4, 1914, but there was no mark of acknowledgment, which suggested that the letter had never been sent. She began to read the neatly styled script.
Dear Herbert,
With the formally signed copies of our treaty seemingly lost and the heated criticism you are receiving from members of your cabinet, perhaps our bargain was never meant to be. And since formal transfer did not transpire, I have given my secretary instructions to destroy all mention of our pact. This uncustomary step is, I feel, somewhat reluctantly, warranted as my countrymen are a possessive lot and would never idly stand by knowing with certainty that
A crease ran through the next line, obliterating the writing. The letter continued with a new paragraph.
At the request of Sir Edward, and with the concurrence of Bryan, I have recorded the funds deposited to your government from our treasury as a loan.
Your friend,
WOODROW WILSON
Heidi was about to set the letter aside because there was no reference to naval involvement when curiosity pulled her eyes back to the words "destroy all mention of our pact."
She hung on them for nearly a minute. After two years of in-depth study, she felt she had come to know Woodrow Wilson almost as well as a favorite uncle, and she'd discovered nothing in the former President's makeup to suggest a Watergate mentality during his years in public office.
The ten-minute warning sounded for the closing of the archives. She quickly transcribed the letter on a yellow legal pad. Then she checked in both file cases at the front desk. "Run on to anything useful?"
asked Mildred. "A trail of smoke I didn't expect," replied Heidi vaguely. "Where do you go from here?"
"Washington . . . the National Archives."
"Good luck. I hope you make a hit."
"Hit?"
"Discover a previously overlooked treasure of information." Heidi shrugged. "You never know what might turn up."
She had not planned to pursue the meaning of Wilson's odd letter.
But now that she had the door open a crack, she decided it was worth a further peek.
The Senate historian leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry, commander, but we don't have room up here in the Capitol attic to store congressional documents."
"I understand," said Heidi. "You specialize in old photographs."
Jack Murphy nodded. "Yes, we maintain quite an extensive collection of government-related pictures going back as far as the eighteen forties." He idly fiddled with a paperweight on the desk. "Have you tried the National Archives? They have a massive storehouse of material."
"A wasted effort," Heidi shrugged. "I found nothing that related to my search."
"How can I help?"
