“Yes,” admitted Arrelsford, but he went on with great acuteness, “if any of the operators came back they would catch him doing it. With that order and the Secretary’s signature he could go right on. He could even order one of them to send it.”
“And pray how did he get the Secretary’s signature to a forged telegram?” asked General Randolph.
“He tore it off a genuine despatch. Why, General, look at that despatch in your hand yourself. The Secretary’s signature is pasted on, I saw him do it.”
“They often come that way, sir,” said Thorne nonchalantly.
“He is a liar!” cried Arrelsford. “They never do!”
Thorne stepped forward impulsively, his face flushed at the word “liar,” but he controlled himself.
“General,” he said, “if you have any doubt about that despatch, send it back to the War Office and have it verified.”
It was a splendid, magnificent bluff. So overwhelming in its assurance that even Arrelsford himself was petrified with astonishment. He was morally certain that Thorne was a Federal Secret Service Agent and that the despatch was a forgery, yet it would take but a few minutes to send it over to the Secretary’s office and convict him out of his own mouth. What could the man mean!
“That’s a good idea,” said General Randolph. He hesitated a moment and then turned to the guard. “Sergeant,” he said, “take this despatch over to the Secretary’s office and——”
At that moment, the key which had been silent began a lively clicking. General Randolph turned toward it, and Thorne made a quick step in the same direction.