“I am willing to try it, but it depends upon you. Can you keep Thorne here?”
“I can.”
“It won’t take more than half an hour. Be out there on the veranda. When I tap on the glass bring him into this room and leave him alone. And I can rely upon you to give him no hint or sign that we suspect——”
“Mr. Arrelsford!” said the girl, indignant and haughty, and her mother stepped swiftly toward her, looking at him contemptuously, as if he should have known that such an action would be impossible for either of them.
Arrelsford gazed at them a minute or two, smiled triumphantly, and passed out of the room.
“Mamma, mamma!” moaned the girl, her eyes shut, her hand extended. “Mamma,” she repeated in anguish.
“I am here, Edith dear; I am here,” said Mrs. Varney, coming toward her and taking her tenderly in her arms.
“Do you think—do you think—that he—he could be what they say?” Her hand fell upon the commission in her belt “This commission I got for him this afternoon——”
“Yes?”
“The commission, you know, from the President, for the Telegraph Service—why, he refused to take it,” her voice rose and rang triumphantly through the room; “he refused to take it! That doesn’t look as if he wanted to use the telegraph to betray us.”