“At the New Willard. He wants to see you to-night.”
Tom’s face fell. “I can’t go, at least not to-night, sir. You see, I’m on night duty at the White House now, sir. I get off at six every morning and sleep until noon. I’m just up now, sir. Do you think the General could see me in the afternoon?”
“Sure; I’ll ask him. By the way, Tom, who answers the White House telephones at night?”
“I do, sir; leastways, I attend to the switch-board in the Executive Offices.”
“Do you happen to recollect what person in the White House called up ‘North—123’ on February third, or rather February fourth, at two fifteen in the morning?”
Tom looked searchingly at his questioner.
“Ought I to answer that question, sir?”
“I think you should. General Long sent me here to ask you.”
“May the good Lord forgive me,” thought Dick, “I know Cheater will back me up.”
Tom’s face cleared. “Then it’s all right, sir. I hesitated to answer you, sir, because—the call came from the President himself.”