“Ask him why he didn’t answer my signal,” prompted Lawrence.
“Why didn’t you answer the signal Lawrence sent out yesterday?” asked Mr. Ridgeway.
“Too busy,” came the answer. “This engine was off all day, and we were working on it all the time.”
“See?” said Mr. Ridgeway. “That is all right. The signal was nothing important, was it?”
“I suppose not,” said Lawrence. “But can’t you ask him something or other that only O’Brien would know?”
Mr. Ridgeway laughed. “You are a suspicious kid all right, aren’t you? Well, here is something no one but O’Brien and myself and one other person, a very distinguished person indeed, could possibly know. I will ask him about the letter from the White House.”
He turned to the instrument.
“O’Brien,” he asked, “Lawrence wants something as evidence that you are really there. He seems to doubt his senses. Just tell me if there was anything peculiar about the paper I wrote my instructions on.”
“Lawrence won’t have any doubts about anything when I see him,” flashed back. “Yes, I remember the paper. It was the private stationery of the President and instead of signing your name, it was signed with your private seal, the carved seal you always carry on a chain under your waist-coat.”
“O.K.” answered Mr. Ridgeway. “I think that is clear enough. We will slow down immediately. Keep to the right. We cannot see you in this fog. It is getting thicker as we go in. I can’t afford any accident now.”