Hooker’s thin face wore a mask of crass perplexity as his eyes ran down the sheet.
“General McClellan!” he exclaimed, his voice uncertain.
He handed the paper to his superior, who received it as under protest and cast his eye over its first few lines. Then his face all at once took on an aspect of amaze, ludicrously like that of Hooker.
McClellan strode hastily to the window embrasure, followed by Hooker. Side by side, their backs to the others, the two generals read and reread the paper.
Then they fell into eager, excited conversation, speaking in tense whispers.
Meantime the gorgeous secretary stood looking blankly at their backs. The sentinel, his hand still on Jimmie’s shirt-collar, stared at everybody in turn, mouth ajar.
Jimmie alone had no special interest in the proceedings. He had delivered the mysteriously precious paper into General McClellan’s own hands, as Dad had bidden him; and General McClellan had read it.
Nothing remained now but to obey Dad’s second command to tell McClellan how and where the paper had been found. And as the sentinel had been called off from ejecting him from the room, there was every prospect that he would be able to perform this part of his mission, too.
But all in good time.
At present General McClellan seemed far too busy to listen. Soon, no doubt, he would get through making conjectures and begin to ask questions. That was the way with grown people.