“This is a case where nobody is going to read my private writing,” persisted Caroline.
The young girl confronted him with blazing eyes and a mien like a small fury. Arrelsford looked at her with ill-concealed yet somewhat vexatious amusement.
“Lieutenant Foray, you have an order to give me that despatch. Bring it to me at once,” he said.
Although it was quite evident that Foray greatly disliked the rôle he was compelled to play, his orders were plain, he had no option. He stepped slowly toward the Secret Service-Agent, only to be confronted by old Martha, who again interrupted.
“Dat Leftenant kin stay jes whah he is,” said the old negress defiantly.
A struggle with her would have been an unseemly spectacle indeed, thought both men.
“Is that Miss Mitford’s despatch you have in your hand?” asked Arrelsford.
“Yes, sir.”
“Since you can’t hand it to me, read it.”
Caroline turned to him with a gasp of horror. Martha gave way, and Foray stood surprised.