Beyond it a broad-shouldered man with iron-gray hair was seated at a big desk under the electric light. His face was turned toward the door, and as Lucy entered he rose sharply to his feet, saying with quick earnestness, “You are Colonel James Gordon’s daughter? You came from Château-Plessis?”
He put his hands on Lucy’s shoulders, fixing his eyes on hers.
“Yes, General,” Lucy answered with trembling eagerness. “I am Lucy Gordon. I have been in Château-Plessis since before the Germans took it. My father is there still.”
“You got through the enemy lines—you crossed over to us alone?” the General insisted, his glance softening with pity and wonder as he surveyed Lucy’s mud-stained and bedraggled figure, and the shining, eager eyes in her tired face.
“Yes, I did; I had to. They are going to send Father into Germany, and I couldn’t stay there and do nothing, when I thought I had a chance to save him.”
“You have courage enough for anything! What can we do, though, poor child—unless they will delay your father’s going for some days longer? But tell me how on earth you got over here!”
“I brought you something that I know will help,” Lucy persisted, and with shaking fingers she unfolded her handkerchief and laid the precious slip of paper in General Clinton’s hands. “A British officer who is a prisoner in Château-Plessis gave me this. He was captured at Argenton, and that drawing shows what he learned of the defenses.”
“The defenses of Argenton?” As the General spoke he sat down at his desk with the paper quickly spread before him, and the two young officers with one accord sprang to his side.
“The road is the fortified ridge. The soldiers are the batteries. He explained it to me,” said Lucy, breathing fast.
The General wheeled about in his chair and looked at her with a new light in his eyes. “You’ve done us a good turn, my little girl!” he exclaimed, and reaching for Lucy’s hand he took it in a strong clasp. “You are of the sort that will bring victory to America, and I’m proud of you!”