The President turned to his secretary. “Ask Secretary Metson to come here, Mr. Loren,” he ordered.
Loren slipped into the cabinet room. In an instant he was back. Close behind him came a stout, sandy-mustached man, who nodded to McNew with an air of surprise.
The President, however, allowed no time for explanations. “Mr. Metson,” he questioned, instantly. “Have we any small vessels at Hampton Roads that can go to sea without delay.”
Metson nodded. “Four or five, I believe,” he answered promptly. “Two destroyers, one gun-boat, one protected cruiser—”
“Order the swiftest to be ready to leave the instant an officer reaches her with orders. Can you put your hand on Commander Topham, whom you brought to me last night, or is he out of reach?”
Metson looked undecided. “I think he is in the navy department now,” he asserted. “If Mr. Loren will telephone over—”
“Do so, Loren.”
Topham was easily found, and in less than five minutes was in the room.
The President went straight to the point. “Mr. Topham,” he said. “An American lady, Miss Byrd, a correspondent of the Gazette, will pass the entrance of Chesapeake Bay on the steamship Southern Cross some time tonight. I want you to take train—a special if need be”— He broke off. “Find out about trains, and order a special at once, if necessary, Mr. Loren,” he flung over his shoulder. Then: “You will proceed immediately to Fortress Monroe, Mr. Topham,” he resumed; “go on board a torpedo boat that will be waiting, intercept the ship, and bring Miss Byrd here at the earliest possible moment. She will probably be willing to come. If not, you must try to persuade her.”
“She will come, Mr. President. I know her personally.”