Secret Service

  CHAPTER VIII

  EDITH IS FORCED TO PLAY THE GAME

  Caroline's departure was again interrupted by the inopportune reentrancefrom the back hall of Mr. Arrelsford, who was accompanied by twosoldiers, whom he directed to remain by the door. As he advanced rapidlytoward Mrs. Varney, Caroline stepped aside toward the rear window.

  "Is he----" began Arrelsford, turning toward the window, and startingback in surprise as he observed Caroline for the first time.

  "Yes, he is there," answered the woman.

  "Oh, Mrs. Varney," cried Caroline, "there's a heap of soldiers out inyour backyard here. You don't reckon anything's the matter, do you?"

  The girl did not lower her voice, and was greatly surprised at theimmediate order for silence which proceeded from Mr. Arrelsford, whosepresence she acknowledged with a very cool, indifferent bow.

  "No, there is nothing the matter, dear," said Mrs. Varney. "Martha," shesaid to the old servant who had come in response to her ring, "I wantyou to go home with Miss Mitford. You must not go alone, dear.Good-night."

  "Thank you very much, Mrs. Varney," answered Caroline. "Come, Martha."As she turned, she hesitated. "You don't reckon she could go with mesomewhere else, do you?"

  "Why, where else do you want to go at this hour, my dear girl?" askedMrs. Varney.

  "Just to--to the telegraph office," answered Caroline.

  Mr. Arrelsford, who had been waiting with ill-concealed impatienceduring this dialogue, started violently.

  "Now!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney in great surprise, not noticing the actionsof her latest guest. "At this time of night?"

  "Yes," answered Caroline, "it is on very important business, and--I----"

  "Oh," returned Mrs. Varney, "if that is the case, Martha must go withyou."

  "You know we haven't a single servant left at our house," Caroline saidin explanation of her request.

  "I know," said Mrs. Varney, "and, Martha, don't leave her for aninstant."

  "No'm," answered Martha, "Ah'll take ca' ob huh."

  As soon as she had left the room, passing between the two soldiers,Arrelsford took up the conversation. He spoke quickly and in a sharpvoice. He was evidently greatly excited.

  "What is she going to do at the telegraph office?" he asked.

  "I have no idea," answered the woman.

  "Has she had any conversation with him?" said Arrelsford, pointing tothe front of the house.

  "They were talking together in this room early this evening before youcame the first time, but it isn't possible she could----"

  "Anything is possible," snapped Arrelsford impatiently. He was evidentlydetermined to suspect everybody, and leave no stone unturned to preventthe failure of his plans. "Corporal," he cried, "have Eddinger followthat girl. He must get to the telegraph office as soon as she does, anddon't let any despatch she tries to send get out before I see it. Lether give it in, but hold it. Make no mistake about that. Get an orderfrom the department for you to bring it to me." As the Corporal salutedand turned away to give the order, Arrelsford faced Mrs. Varney again."Are they both out there?"

  "Yes," answered the woman. "Did you bring the man from Libby Prison?"

  "I did, the guards have him out in the street on the other side of thehouse. When we get Thorne in here alone I'll have him brought over tothat back window and shoved into the room."

  "And where shall I stay?"

  "Out there," said Arrelsford, "by the lower door, opening upon the backhall. You can get a good view of everything from there."

  "But if he sees me?"

  "He won't see you if it is dark in the hall." He turned to the Corporalwho had reentered and resumed his station. "Turn out those lights outthere," he said. "We can close these curtains, can't we?"

  "Certainly," said Mrs. Varney, opening the rear door and drawing theheavy portieres, but leaving space between them so that any one in thedark hall could see through them but not be seen from the room.

  "I don't want too much light in here, either," said Arrelsford. As hespoke he blew out the candles in the two candelabra which had beenplaced on the different tables, and left the large, long room but dimlyilluminated by the candles in the sconces on the walls.

  Mrs. Varney watched him with fascinated awe. In spite of herself therestill lingered a hope that Arrelsford might be mistaken. Thorne hadenlisted her interest, and he might under other conditions have arousedher matronly affections, and she was hoping against hope that he mightyet prove himself innocent, not only because of his personality but aswell because the thought that she might have entertained a spy wasrepugnant to her, and because of the honour of the Dumont family, whichwas one of the oldest and most important ones in the western hills ofthe Old Dominion.

  Arrelsford meantime completed his preparations by moving the couch whichCaroline Mitford had placed before the window back to the wall.

  "Now, Mrs. Varney," he said, stepping far back out of sight of thewindow, "will you open the curtains? Do it casually, carelessly, please,so as not to awaken any suspicion if you are seen."

  "But your soldiers, won't they----"

  "They are all at the back of the house. They came in the back way, andthe field in front is absolutely clear, although I have men concealed inthe street to stop any one who may attempt to escape that way."

  Mrs. Varney walked over to the window and drew back the curtains. Shestood for a moment looking out into the clear, peaceful quietness of asoft spring night. The moon was full, and being somewhat low shonethrough the long windows and into the room, the candle light not beingbright enough to dim its radiance. Her task being completed, she turned,and once more the man who was in command pointed across the hall towardthe room on the other side.

  "Are those women in there yet?" he asked peremptorily.

  "Yes."

  "Where is the key?"

  Mrs. Varney left the room and went to the door.

  "It is on this side," she said.

  "Will you lock it, please?"

  The woman softly turned the key in the lock, and returned to thedrawing-room without a sound. As she did so the noise of the opening ofone of the long French windows in the front of the room attracted theattention of both of them. Edith Varney entered the room nervously andstepped forward. She began breathlessly, in a low, feverishly excitedvoice.

  "Mamma!"

  Mrs. Varney hurried toward her and caught her outstretched hand.

  "I want to speak to you," whispered the girl.

  "We can't wait," said Arrelsford, stepping forward.

  "You must," persisted the girl. She turned to her mother again, "I can'tdo it, I can't! Oh, let me go!"

  "But, my dear," said her mother, "you were the one who suggestedthat----"

  "But I was sure then, and now----"

  "Has he confessed?" asked Mrs. Varney.

  "No, no," answered the girl with a glance of fear and apprehensiontoward Arrelsford, who stood staring menacingly at her elbow.

  "Don't speak so loud," whispered the Secret Service Agent.

  "Edith," said her mother soothingly, "what is it that has changed you?"

  She waited for an answer, but none came. The girl's face had been verypale but it now flushed suddenly with colour.

  "Dear," said her mother, "you must tell me."

  Edith motioned Mr. Arrelsford away. He went with ill-concealedimpatience to the far side of the room and waited nervously to give thesignal, anxious lest something should miscarry because of thisunfortunate unwillingness of the girl to play her part.

  "What is it, dear?" whispered her mother.

  "Mamma," said Edith, she forced the words out, "he--he--loves me."

  "Impossible!" returned Mrs. Varney, controlling her voice so that theother occupant of the room could not hear.

  "Yes," faltered the girl, "and I--some one else must do it."

  "You don't mean," said Mrs. Varney, "that you return----"

  But Mr. Arrelsford's patience had bee
n strained to the breaking point.He did not know what interchange was going on between the two women, butit must be stopped. He came forward resolutely. The girl saw hisdetermination in his face.

  "No, no," she whispered, "not that, not now!"

  She shrank away from him as she spoke.

  "But, Edith," said Mrs. Varney, "more reason now than ever."

  "I don't know what you are talking about," said Mr. Arrelsford, "but wemust go on."

  "But why--why are you doing this?" asked Edith, pleading desperately.

  "Because I please," snapped out the Secret Service Agent, and it wasquite evident that he was pleased. Some of his satisfaction was due tothe fact that he had by his own efforts at last succeeded in unearthinga desperate plot, and had his hands on the plotters. That he was therebyserving his country and demonstrating his fitness for his position ofresponsibility and trust also added to his satisfaction, but this wasgreatly enhanced by the fact that Thorne was his rival, and he couldmake a guess that he was a successful rival in love as well as in war.

  "You have never pleased before," persisted Edith. "Hundreds ofsuspicious cases have come up--hundreds of men have been run down--butyou preferred to sit at your desk in the War Department, until----"

  "Edith! Edith!" interposed her mother.

  "I can't discuss that now," said Arrelsford.

  "No, we will not discuss it. I will have nothing more to do with theaffair."

  "You won't," whispered Arrelsford threateningly.

  "Don't say that," urged Mrs. Varney.

  "Nothing, nothing at all," said Edith.

  "At your own suggestion, Miss Varney," persisted the Secret ServiceAgent vehemently, "I agreed to accept a plan by which we could criminatethis friend of yours or establish his innocence. When everything isready you propose to withdraw and make the experiment a failure, perhapsallowing him to escape altogether and being a party to treason againstyour own country."

  Edith looked from Arrelsford's set face, with his bitter words, thetruth of which she was too just not to acknowledge, ringing in her ears,to the face of her mother. It was a sweet face, full of sympathy andlove, but it was set in the same way as the man's. The patriotism of thewoman was aroused. The kind of help that Edith wanted in her mother'slook she did not find there.

  "You mustn't do this, Edith; you must do your part," said Mrs. Varney.

  The resolution of the girl gave way.

  "He is there," she faltered piteously, "he is there at the further endof the veranda. What more do you want of me?" Her voice rose in spite ofher efforts to control herself.

  "Call him to the room, and do it naturally. If any one else should do ithe would suspect something immediately and be on his guard."

  "Very well," said the girl helplessly. "I will call him."

  She turned toward the window.

  "Wait," said Arrelsford, "one thing more. I want him to have thispaper." He handed Edith the communication which had been taken fromJonas earlier in the evening.

  "What am I to do with this?" asked the girl, taking it.

  "Give it to him, and tell him where it came from. Tell him old Jonas gotit from a prisoner at Libby Prison and brought it to you."

  "But why am I to do this?" asked the girl.

  "Why not? If he is innocent, what's the harm? If not, if he is in theplot and we can't catch him otherwise, the message on the paper willsend him to the telegraph office to-night, and that's where we wanthim."

  "But I never promised that," said the girl with obvious reluctance to doanything not only that might tend to harm the suspected, but that mightwork to the furtherance of Arrelsford's designs.

  "Do you still believe him innocent?" sneered the man.

  Edith lifted her head and for the first time she looked Arrelsford fullin the face.

  "I still believe him innocent," answered the girl, slowly and withdeliberate emphasis.

  "Then why are you afraid to give him the paper?" asked Arrelsford,directly with cunning adroitness.

  The girl, thus entrapped, clasped the paper to her breast, and turnedtoward the window. Her mind was made up, but it was not necessary forher to call. Her ear, tuned to every sound he made, caught the noise ofhis footfall on the porch. She turned her head and spoke to the othertwo.

  "Captain Thorne is coming," she whispered expressionlessly, "unless youwant to be seen, you had better go."

  "Here, this way, Mrs. Varney," said Arrelsford, taking that lady by thearm and going down to the far end to the door covered by the portieres.

  The two disappeared, and it was impossible for a soul to see them in thedarkness of the hall, although they could see clearly enough, even inthe dimly lighted drawing-room, everything that would happen. Edithstood as if rooted to the floor, the paper still in her hand, whenThorne opened the sash which she had closed behind her and entered inhis turn the window through which she had come a short time before. Hestepped eagerly toward her.

  "You were so long," he whispered, "coming for me, that----" He stoppedabruptly, and looked at her face, "is anything the matter?"

  "No."

  "You had been away such a long time that I thought----"

  "Only a few minutes."

  "Only a few years," said the man passionately. His voice was low andgently modulated, not because he had anything to conceal but because ofthe softness of the moonlight and the few candles dimly flickering uponthe walls of the great room, the look in the girl's eyes, and thefeeling in his heart. A few minutes, the girl had said!--Ah, it wasindeed a few years to him.

  "If it was a few years to you," returned the girl with a violent effortat lightness, although her heart was torn to pieces with the emotions ofthe moment, "what a lot of time there is."

  "No," said Thorne, "there is only to-night."

  Edith threw out her hand to check what she would fain have heard, butThorne caught it. He came closer to her.

  "There's only to-night, and you in the world," he said.

  "You overwhelm me."

  "I can't help myself. I came here determined not to tell you how I lovedyou, and for the last half hour I have been telling you nothing else. Icould tell you all my life and never finish. Ah, my darling, mydarling,--there's only to-night and you."

  Edith swayed toward him for a moment, completely influenced by hisardour, but then drew back.

  "No, no," she faltered. "You mustn't." She glanced around the roomapprehensively. "No, no, not now!"

  "You are right," said the man. She dragged herself away from him. Hewould not retain her against her will, and without a struggle hereleased her hand. "You are right. Don't mind what I said, Miss Varney.I have forgotten myself, believe me." He drew further away from her. "Icame to make a brief call, to say good-bye, and----"

  He turned and walked toward the hall door, after making her a low bow,and it was not without a feeling of joy that she noticed that he walkedunsteadily, blindly.

  "Oh, Captain Thorne," she said, just as he had reached the door, "I----"

  He stopped and looked back.

  "Before you go I want to ask your advice about something."

  "My advice!"

  "Yes, it seems to be a military matter, and----"

  "What is it?" asked Thorne, turning back.

  "What do you think this means?" said the girl, handing him the foldeddespatch.

  She had intended to look him full in the face as he took it, but at thelast moment her courage failed her. She looked away and did not see theinstant but quickly mastered start of surprise. She was only consciousthat Thorne had possessed himself of the document.

  "What is it?" asked Thorne, holding it in his hand.

  "That is what I want you to tell me," said the girl.

  "Oh, don't you know?" said Thorne, now entirely master of himself.

  "No," answered the girl, but there was something in her voice which nowfully aroused the suspicions of the man.

  "It appears to be a note from some one," he said casually, "but it is sodark in here. With your perm
ission, I will light some of the candles onthe table, and then we can see what it is."

  He took one of the candles from the sconces on the wall and lighted thecandelabra that stood on the nearest table. Holding the paper near thelight, he glanced around rapidly, and then read it, giving no outwardevidence of his surprise and alarm, although the girl was now watchinghim narrowly. He glanced at her and then looked at the paper again, andslowly read aloud its message.

  "'_Attack to-night?_'" he said very deliberately. "Umph, '_Plan 3?Attack to-night, plan 3!_' This seems to be in some code, Miss Varney,or a puzzle."

  "It was taken from a Yankee prisoner."

  "From a Yankee prisoner!" he exclaimed in brilliantly assumed surprise.

  "Yes, one captured to-day. He is down at Libby now. He gave it to one ofour servants, old Jonas, and----"

  "That's a little different," said Thorne, examining the paper again. "Itputs another face on the matter. This may be something important.'_Attack to-night_,'" he read again, "_'Plan 3, use telegraph'!_ Thissounds important to me, Miss Varney. It looks to me like a plot to usethe Department Telegraph lines. To whom did Jonas give it?"

  "To no one."

  "Well, how did you----"

  "We took it away from him," answered Edith.

  This was a very different statement from her original intention, but forthe moment the girl forgot her part.

  "Oh," said Thorne, "I think that was a mistake."

  "A mistake?"

  "Yes."

  "But why?"

  "You should have let him deliver it, but it is too late now. Nevermind." He turned toward the door.

  Edith caught him by the arm. Was he going out to certain death or what?

  "What are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly.

  "Find Jonas, and make him tell for whom this paper was intended. He isthe man we want."

  The girl released him, and caught her throat with her hand.

  "Captain Thorne," she choked out, and there was joy and triumph in herface, "they have lied about you."

  Thorne turned to her quickly.

  "Lied about me!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?"

  He caught the girl's hands in his and bent over her.

  "Don't be angry," pleaded Edith, "I didn't think it would be like this."

  "Yes, yes, but what do you mean?"

  Edith sought to draw her hands away from him, but Thorne would not bedenied.

  "I must know," he said.

  "Let me go," pleaded the girl, "don't you understand----"

  But what she might have said further was interrupted by the sharp, sternvoice of the Corporal outside. He spoke loud and clearly, there was nonecessity for precaution now.

  "This way! Look out for that side, will you?"

  Thorne released the hands of the woman he loved and stood listening.Edith Varney took advantage of such a diversion to dart through theupper door, the nearer one, into the hall.

  "I don't want to be here now," she said, as she flew away.

  Thorne's hand went to his revolver which hung at his belt. He had nottime to draw it before the Corporal and the two men burst through thedoor. There were evidently others outside. Thorne's hand fell away fromhis revolver, and his position was one of charming nonchalance.

  "Out here!" cried the Corporal to one of the soldiers. "Look out there!"pointing to the doorway through which the two men instantly disappeared.

  "What is it, Corporal?" asked Thorne composedly.

  The Corporal turned and saluted.

  "Prisoner, sir, broke out of Libby! We've run him down the street, andhe turned in here somewhere. If he comes in that way, would you be goodenough to let us know?"

  "Go on, Corporal," said Thorne coolly. "I'll look out for this window."

  He stepped down the long room toward the far window, drew the curtains,and with his hand on his revolver, peered out into the trees beyond thefront of the house.