“Stop him!” cried Arrelsford, fully divining that Thorne intended to send the message. “He’s sending a—wait!” A thought came to him. “Ask Miss Varney, she saw him,—ask Miss Varney.”
But the old Sergeant of the Guard paid no attention whatever to his frantic appeals.
“Here, fall in there!” he said. “We’ll get him out, Captain. Have you got him, men? Forward then!”
Struggling furiously the squad of soldiers forced Arrelsford to the door. Thorne paid absolutely no attention to them; he had forgotten their presence. Like his attention, his mind and heart were on the key again. But he was fated to meet with still another interruption.
“Halt there!” cried a sharp voice from the hall, just as the group reached the door.
“Halt! Left Face!” cried the Sergeant in turn, recognising that here was a superior whom it were well to obey without question or hesitation.
“Here is General Randolph,” said the voice outside, giving the name of one of the high officers of the Richmond Garrison.
“Present arms!” cried the Sergeant of the Guard as General Randolph appeared in the doorway.
Following him were some officers of his staff and by his side was the imposing figure of Miss Caroline Mitford. The humiliation and indignation had vanished from her bearing which was one of unmitigated triumph. She threw a glance at Arrelsford which bode ill for that young man. The General entered the room and stopped before the Secret Service Agent, who stood in front of the guard, although he had been released by the men.
“What’s all this about?” he asked peremptorily.