“There is something more,” said Captain Stanhope. “The dispatches bore signs of having been tampered with.”
“Tampered with?” It was a question from Tremayne, charged with incredulity. “But who would have tampered with them?”
“There were signs, that is all. Garfield was taken to the house of the parish priest, where he lay lost until he recovered sufficiently to realise his position for himself. No doubt you will have a schedule of the contents of the dispatch, Sir Terence?”
“Certainly. It is in your possession, I think, Tremayne.”
Tremayne turned to his desk, and a brief search in one of its well-ordered drawers brought to light an oblong strip of paper folded and endorsed. He unfolded and spread it on Sir Terence’s table, whilst Captain Stanhope, producing a note with which he came equipped, stooped to check off the items. Suddenly he stopped, frowned, and finally placed his finger under one of the lines of Tremayne’s schedule, carefully studying his own note for a moment.
“Ha!” he said quietly at last. “What’s this?” And he read: “‘Note from Lord Liverpool of reinforcements to be embarked for Lisbon in June or July.’” He looked at the adjutant and the adjutant’s secretary. “That would appear to be the most important document of all—indeed the only document of any vital importance. And it was not included in the dispatch as it reached Lord Wellington.”
The three looked gravely at one another in silence.
“Have you a copy of the note, sir?” inquired the aide-de-camp.
“Not a copy—but a summary of its contents, the figures it contained, are pencilled there on the margin,” Tremayne answered.
“Allow me, sir,” said Stanhope, and taking up a quill from the adjutant’s table he rapidly copied the figures. “Lord Wellington must have this memorandum as soon as possible. The rest, Sir Terence, is of course a matter for yourself. You will know what to do. Meanwhile I shall report to his lordship what has occurred. I had best set out at once.”