She tapped her message.
"Anything for Ex-x?" The long silence that followed was finally broken by the clatter of the instrument.
"Nothing."
Dixie sank back in the chair. Her message had gone through hours before, certainly by this time Grant should have received it and answered.
But the instrument was clicking again—calling for Exeter.
"Ex—ex—exexexex—ex—exexex."
"O.K. Ex—go ahead," Dixie tapped in an agony of impatience. The sounding key snapped back.
"Hello Ex—thought I'd tell you—wire trouble between here and New York. Ought to clear up soon."
The instrument ceased its clatter. Dixie settled back, hopeful—and yet hopeless. Now there was no means of knowing. Her communication had been cut off. She could only wait—wait—with the teeth of anxiety gnawing at her heart. Wait, while all through the northern states, Imperial Germany's reservists were hurrying to their stations. Wait—while out at the main camp, Heinric von Lertz and Madam Stephan were giving orders that would cause rebellion to flare at the first word from Von Papen.
But Dixie brightened a bit as she caught at the cheerful thought that Von Papen's message could not come through until the wires were opened—still when the wires were opened, Von Papen's wire might come through and Grant would not be there to stop the resultant activity.