“That will do, Lieutenant,” said General Randolph triumphantly. He turned to Arrelsford again. “If you are not satisfied, Mr. Arrelsford, I beg to inform you that we have a despatch, from General Chesney at the front, in which he says that no orders were received from here. He got an uncompleted despatch, but could not make anything out of it. Marston’s Division was not withdrawn from Cemetery Hill, and our position was not weakened in any way. The attack there has failed.” There was a low murmur of astonishment from the group of men in the room. Edith Varney did one significant thing. She made two steps in Thorne’s direction. That young man did not dare to trust himself to look at her. “It is quite plain,” continued the General, “that the court has been acting under an error. The President of the Confederacy is, therefore, compelled to disapprove the finding, and it is set aside. He happened to be with the Secretary when the finding came in.” Arrelsford made one last desperate effort. “General Randolph,” he said, and, to do him justice, he did not lack courage, “this was put in my hands, and——” General Randolph laughed. “I take it out of your hands,” he said curtly. “Report back to the War Office, or the Secret Service Office, with my compliments, and——” “But there are other charges upon which he could be tried,” persisted Arrelsford. “He is a spy anyway, and——” “I believe I gave you your orders, Mr. Arrelsford,” interrupted the General, with suspicious politeness. “But hadn’t I better wait and see——” “By God, sir,” thundered Randolph, “do I have to explain my orders to the whole Secret Service of the Confederacy? Don’t wait to see anything. Go at once, or I will have you escorted by a file of soldiers.” Arrelsford would have defied the General if there had been the least use in the world in doing it, but the game was clearly up for the present. He would try to arrange to have Thorne rearrested and tried as a spy later. Now he could do nothing. He walked out of the room, pride enabling him to keep up a brave front, but with disappointment and resentment raging in his heart. He did not realise that his power over Thorne had been withdrawn. In the great game that they had played, he had lost at all points. They all watched him go, not a single one in the room with sympathy, or even pity. “Now, Sergeant,” said the General, as they heard the heavy hall door close; “I want to speak to the prisoner.” “Order arms!” cried the Sergeant. “Parade rest!” As the squad assumed these positions in obedience to his commands, the Sergeant continued, “Fall out the prisoner.” Thorne stepped forward one pace from the ranks, and saluted the General. He kept his eyes fixed upon that gentleman, and it was only the throbbing of his heart that made him aware that Edith Varney was by his side. She bent her head toward him; he felt her warm breath against his cheek as she whispered: “Oh! Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you sent it, I thought you——”