The despatch was almost completed. Thorne ground his teeth with rage in his impatience. He had tried audacity before, he would try it again.
“I was sent here to attend to the business of this office and that business is going out,” he said resolutely.
“No,” said General Randolph with equal firmness, “it is not going out until I am ready for it.”
“My orders come from the War Department, not from you, sir. This despatch came in half an hour ago,” answered Thorne angrily, his voice rising, “they are calling for it at the other end of the line. It’s my business to send it out and I am going to do it.”
“Stop!” said General Randolph, as Thorne began to send the message again. “Sergeant, seize that man and keep him from that machine.”
Well, the last hope was gone. As the Sergeant stepped forward to execute his orders, Thorne, desperately determined to the last, clicked out a letter, but he was cut short in the middle of a word. The Sergeant and two men dragged him away, chair and all, from the table, and two others posted themselves in front of the key.
“I will have you court-martialled for this, sir,” said General Randolph angrily.
“You will have to answer yourself,” cried Thorne, playing the game to the last, “for the delay of a despatch of vital importance, sent by the Secretary of War.”
“Do you mean that?” cried Randolph.
“I mean just that,” answered Thorne, “and I demand that you let me proceed with the business of this office. Before these officers and men I repeat that demand.”