“Since you can’t hand it to me, read it.” Caroline turned to him with a gasp of horror. Martha gave way, and Foray stood surprised. “Read it out! Don’t you hear me?” repeated Arrelsford peremptorily. “Don’t dare to do such a thing,” cried Caroline, “you have no right to read a private telegram.” “No, suh! He ain’t got no business to read her lettahs, none whatsomebah!” urged Martha. “Silence!” roared Arrelsford, his patience at an end. “If either of you interfere any further with the business of this office, I will have you both put under arrest. Read that despatch instantly, Lieutenant Foray.” The game was up so far as the women were concerned. Caroline’s head sank on Martha’s shoulder and she sobbed passionately, while Lieutenant Foray read the following astonishing and incriminating message. “‘_Forgive me, Wilfred darling, please forgive me and I will help you all I can._’” It was harmless, as harmless as it was foolish, that message, but it evidently impressed Mr. Arrelsford as containing some deep, some hidden, some sinister meaning. “That despatch can’t go,” he said shortly. “That despatch can go,” said Caroline, stopping her sobbing as suddenly as she had begun. “And that despatch will go. I know some one whose orders even you are bound to respect, and some one who will come here with me and see that you do it.” “It may be,” answered Arrelsford composedly. “I have a good and sufficient reason——” “Then you will have to show him, I can tell you that, Mr. Arrelsford.” “I shall be glad to give my reason to my superiors, Miss Mitford, not to you.” “Then you will have to go around giving them to everybody in Richmond, Mr. Arrelsford,” said the girl, as she swept petulantly through the door, followed by old Martha, both of whom were very much disturbed by what had occurred. CHAPTER XII THORNE TAKES CHARGE OF THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE Arrelsford stared after the departing figures with a mixture of amusement, contempt, and annoyance in his glance. So soon as the door had closed behind them he turned to Lieutenant Foray, who was regarding him with ill-concealed aversion. “Let me have that despatch,” he began in his usual peremptory manner. “You said you had an order, sir,” returned Foray stubbornly. “Yes, yes,” replied the Secret Service Agent impatiently, throwing an order on the table, “there it is, don’t waste time.” But Lieutenant Foray was not satisfied, principally because he did not wish to be. He scrutinised the order carefully, and with great distaste at its contents. It was quite evident that if he could have found a possible pretext for refusing obedience, he would gladly have done so. His sympathies were entirely with Miss Mitford. “I suppose you are Mr. Benton Arrelsford, all right?” he began deliberately, fingering the paper. “Certainly I am,” returned Arrelsford haughtily.