“Read it out! Don’t you hear me?” repeated Arrelsford peremptorily.
“Don’t dare to do such a thing,” cried Caroline, “you have no right to read a private telegram.”
“No, suh! He ain’t got no business to read her lettahs, none whatsomebah!” urged Martha.
“Silence!” roared Arrelsford, his patience at an end. “If either of you interfere any further with the business of this office, I will have you both put under arrest. Read that despatch instantly, Lieutenant Foray.”
The game was up so far as the women were concerned. Caroline’s head sank on Martha’s shoulder and she sobbed passionately, while Lieutenant Foray read the following astonishing and incriminating message.
“‘Forgive me, Wilfred darling, please forgive me and I will help you all I can.’”
It was harmless, as harmless as it was foolish, that message, but it evidently impressed Mr. Arrelsford as containing some deep, some hidden, some sinister meaning.
“That despatch can’t go,” he said shortly.
“That despatch can go,” said Caroline, stopping her sobbing as suddenly as she had begun. “And that despatch will go. I know some one whose orders even you are bound to respect, and some one who will come here with me and see that you do it.”
“It may be,” answered Arrelsford composedly. “I have a good and sufficient reason——”