“I came here,” she continued, as Arrelsford attempted to speak, “to see that no more——” her voice broke for a moment, “murders are committed here—to satisfy your singular curiosity.” “Murders!” exclaimed Arrelsford, flushing deeply. The girl nodded. “The Union soldier who escaped from prison——” she began. “Is the man dead?” interrupted Arrelsford. “The man is dead.” “It is a curious thing, Miss Varney,” continued the other with cutting emphasis, “that one Yankee prisoner more or less should make so much difference to you, isn’t it? They are dying down in Libby by the hundreds.” “At least they are not being killed in our houses, in our drawing-rooms, before our very eyes!” She confronted Arrelsford with a bitterly reproachful glance, before which his eyes for a moment fell, and he was glad indeed to turn to another orderly who had just entered the room. “Have you kept track of him!” he asked in a low voice. “He’s coming down the street to the Department now, sir.” “Where has he been since he left Mrs. Varney’s house?” “He went to his quarters on Gary Street. We got in the next room and watched him through a transom.” “What was he doing?” “Working on some papers or documents.” “Could you see them? Did you see what they were?” “They looked like orders from the War Department, sir.” “He is coming here with forged orders, I suppose.” “I don’t doubt it, sir.” “I surmise that his game is to get control of these wires and then send out despatches to the front that will take away a battery or a brigade from some vital point, the vital point indicated by ‘Plan 3.’ That’s where they mean to attack to-night.” “Looks like it, sir,” agreed the orderly respectfully. “‘Plan 3,’ that’s where they will hit us,” mused the Secret Service Agent. “Is there a guard in the building?” “Not inside, sir,” answered the orderly, “there’s a guard in front and sentries around the barracks over in the square.” “If I shouted, they could hear from this window, couldn’t they?” asked Arrelsford. “The guard in front could hear you, sir. But the time is getting short. He must be nearly here, you’d better look out, sir.” Edith Varney had heard enough of the conversation to understand that Thorne was coming. Of course it would never do for him to see her there. “Where am I to go?” she asked. “Outside here on the balcony,” said Arrelsford. “There is no closet in the room and it is the only place. I will be with you in a moment.” “But if he should come to the window?” “We will step in at the other window. Stay, orderly, see if the window of the Commissary General’s Office, the next room to the left, is open.” They waited while the orderly went out on the balcony and made his inspection. “The window of the next room is open, sir,” he reported. “That’s all I want of you. Report back to Corporal Matson. Tell him to get the body of the prisoner out of the Varney house. He knows where it’s to go.” “Very well, sir.”