At last the tall figure rose and walked back among the operators. They knew that he was waiting for the magic call, "Atlanta, Georgia." It had been three years and more since that heading for a message had flashed over their wires. Every ear was keen to catch it.
The President bent over the table of Southern wires and silently watched:
"You can't strain a little message through for me, can you, my boy?"
The operator smiled:
"I wish I could, sir."
The President returned to the front room and shook his head to Betty:
"Nothing."
"He entered Atlanta a spy, didn't he?" she said despairingly.
"Yes—of course."
"They couldn't execute him without our knowing it, could they?"