As the butts of the muskets pounded against the heavy mahogany panels, Arrelsford cried out in great surprise: “What did you say?” In his astonishment, he did not notice a swift movement Thorne made toward the door. “You want them in, don’t you?” the soldier said, as he approached the door. “It is locked and——” But Arrelsford recovered himself a little and again presented his revolver. “Stand where you are,” he cried, but Thorne by this time had reached the door. “Smash it down, Sergeant!” he cried. “What are you waiting for! Batter it down!” The next moment the door gave way with a crash, and into the room poured the guard. The grizzled old Sergeant had scarcely stepped inside the room when Thorne shouted in tones of the fiercest authority, pointing at Arrelsford: “Arrest that man!” Before the dazed Secret Service Agent could say a word or press the trigger the soldiers were upon him. “He got in here with a revolver,” continued Thorne more quietly, “and is playing hell with it. Hold him fast!” CHAPTER XIV THE CALL OF THE KEY This astonishing dénouement fairly paralysed Arrelsford. With a daring and ability for which he had not given Thorne credit, and which was totally unexpected, although what he had learned of his previous career might have given him some warning, the tables had been turned upon him by a man whom he confidently fancied he had entrapped beyond possibility of escape! His amazement held him speechless for a moment, but his natural resourcefulness came back to him with his returning presence of mind. He knew the futility of an attempt to struggle with his captors, he therefore decided to try to reason with them. “Sergeant,” he began, quietly enough, “my orders are——” But Thorne would not let him continue. Having gained the advantage he was determined to keep it to the end and for that purpose he followed up his first blow, ruthlessly pressing his charge hard. “Damn your orders!” he interrupted furiously. “You haven’t got orders to shoot up everybody you see in this office, have you?” This was too much for Arrelsford, and he made a desperate plunge forward to get at Thorne, who shook his wounded wrist in the Secret Service Agent’s face. The soldiers held him tightly, however, and Thorne continued hotly: “Get his gun away, Sergeant; he’ll hurt somebody.” While the soldiers—who appeared to entertain no doubt and to have no hesitancy whatever about obeying Thorne’s orders, the latter evidently the military man of the two and his voice and bearing, to say nothing of his uniform, telling heavily against a civilian like Arrelsford—were taking the revolver out of his hands, Thorne once more turned to the telegraph table. His blood was up and he would send the despatch now before the whole assemblage, before the Confederate Government or its Army, if necessary. Arrelsford burst out in a last vain attempt to stop him: