“Very well. We have to be pretty careful to-night,” he explained, “there is something on. You are sure of this, are you?” “I could swear to that signature anywhere, sir,” said the messenger. “Very well,” said Thorne, “you may go.” CHAPTER XIII THE TABLES ARE TURNED As soon as the door was closed behind the messenger Thorne laid his cigar down on the table. Then he picked up the despatch from the Secretary of War which the messenger had just brought in, and folded it very dexterously. Then with a pair of scissors which he found in a drawer he cut off the lower part of the Secretary’s despatch containing his signature. He put this between his teeth and tore the rest into pieces. He started to throw the pieces into the waste basket but after a moment’s reflection he stuffed them into his trouser pocket. Then he picked up his coat from the back of the chair and took from the inside breast pocket another document written on the same paper as that which had just come from the Secretary of War. Spreading this out on the table he cut off the signature and quickly pasted to it the piece of the real order bearing the real signature. He carefully wiped this pasted despatch with his handkerchief, making an exceedingly neat job of it. As he did so, he smiled slightly. Fortune, which had dealt him so many rebuffs had evened up matters a little by giving him this opportunity. He had now in his possession a despatch bearing the genuine signature of the Secretary of War. Even if he were interrupted the chances were he would still be able to send it. So soon as he had doctored the despatch, he sat down at the instrument and once more essayed to send the message. Now during all this rapid bit of manipulation Thorne had been under close observation, for Arrelsford and Edith Varney had come from the Commissary General’s Office, where they had concealed themselves while Thorne examined the porch, and had stepped back to the nearest window and were intently watching. Fortunately, his back partially concealed his actions and the watchers could not tell exactly what he had done, although it was quite evident that he was in some way altering some kind of a despatch. Just as Thorne began to send the message, Arrelsford accidentally struck the window with his elbow, making a slight sound. The instant he did so, he and the girl vanished from sight. Once again Thorne released the key, and his hand moved quietly but rapidly from the instrument to the revolver. The instant it was in his hand he sprang to his feet, whirled about, leaped to the gas bracket and turned off the light. The room was left in darkness, save for the faint illumination of the moonlight through the windows.