Secret Service

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

  CHAPTER X

  CAROLINE MITFORD WRITES A DESPATCH

  The War Department Telegraph Office had once been a handsome apartment,one of those old-fashioned, heavily corniced, marble-manteled,low-windowed, double-doored rooms in a public building. It was now in astate of extreme dilapidation, the neglected and forlorn conditionsomehow being significant of the moribund Confederacy in whichpractically everything was either dead or dying but the men and women.

  A large double door in one corner gave entrance to a corridor. The doorswere of handsome mahogany, but they had been kicked and battered untilvarnish and polish had both disappeared and they looked as dilapidatedas the cob-webbed corners and the broken mouldings. On the other side ofthe room, three long French windows gave entrance to a shallow balconyof cast iron fantastically moulded, which hung against the outer wall.Beyond this the observer peering through the dusty panes could discernthe large white pillars of the huge porch which overhung the front ofthe building. Further away beyond the shadow of the porch were visiblethe lights of the sleeping town, seen dimly in the bright moonlight.

  The handsome furniture which the room had probably once contained, hadbeen long since displaced by the rude telegraph equipment and the heavyplaster cornices and mouldings were sadly marred by telegraph wireswhich ran down the walls to the tables, rough pine affairs, whichcarried the instruments. There were two of these tables, each with atelegraph key at either end. One of them stood near the centre of theroom, and the other some distance away was backed up against the fineold marble mantel, chipped, battered, ruined like the rest of the room.For the rest, the apartment contained a desk, shelves with the batterieson them, and half a dozen chairs of the commonest and cheapest variety.The floor was bare, dusty, and tobacco stained. The sole remnant of theancient glory of the room was a large handsome old clock on the wallabove the mantel, the hands of which pointed to the hour of ten.

  But if the room itself was in a dingy and even dirty condition, theoccupants were very much alive. One young man, Lieutenant Allison, satat the table under the clock, and another, Lieutenant Foray, at thetable in the centre of the room. Both were busy sending or receivingmessages. The instruments kept up a continuous clicking, hearddistinctly above the buzz of conversation which came from half a dozenyoungsters, scarcely more than boys, grouped together at the oppositeside of the room, waiting to take to the various offices of theDepartment, or to the several officials of the government, the messageswhich were constantly being handed out to them by the two militaryoperators.

  In the midst of this busy activity there came the noise of drums,faintly at first, but presently growing clearer and louder, while thetramp of many feet sounded in the street below.

  "What's that?" asked one messenger of the other.

  "I don't know," was the answer, "troops of some kind. I'll look out andsee."

  He stepped to one of the long windows, opened it, and went out on thebalcony. The other young fellows clustered at his back or peered throughthe other windows.

  "It's the Richmond Greys," said the observer outside.

  There was an outburst of exclamations from the room, except from theoperators, who had no time to spare from their work.

  "Yes, that's what they are. You can see their uniforms. They must besending them down to the lines at Petersburg," said another.

  "Well, I don't believe they would send the Greys out unless there wassomething going on to-night," observed a third.

  "To-night, why, good heavens, it's as quiet as a tomb," broke in afourth. "I don't hear a sound from the front."

  "That's probably what's worrying them. It is so damn unusual," returnedthe first messenger.

  "Things have come to a pretty pass if the Grandfathers of the Home Guardhave got to go to the front," remarked another.

  "Following in the footsteps of their grandsons," said the first. "I wishI could go. I hate this business of carrying telegrams and----"

  "Messenger here!" cried Lieutenant Foray, folding up a message andinserting it in its envelope.

  The nearest youngster detached himself from the group while all of themturned away from the windows, stepped to the side of the officer, andsaluted.

  "War Department," said Foray tersely. "Tell the Secretary it's fromGeneral Lee, and here's a duplicate which you are to give to thePresident."

  "Very good, sir," said the messenger, taking the message and turningaway.

  As he passed out of the door, an orderly entered the room, stepped tothe side of Lieutenant Foray, the senior of the two officers on duty,clicked his heels together, and saluted.

  "Secretary's compliments, sir, and he wants to know if there is anythingfrom General Lee," he said.

  "My compliments to the Secretary," returned the Lieutenant. "I have justsent a message to his office with a duplicate for the President."

  "The President's with the Cabinet yet, sir," returned the orderly. "Hedidn't go home. The Secretary's there, too. They want an operator rightquick to take down some cipher telegrams."

  Lieutenant Foray looked over to his subordinate.

  "Got anything on, Charlie?" he called out.

  "Not right now," answered Lieutenant Allison.

  "Well, go over with the orderly to the Cabinet room and take down theirciphers. Hurry back though," said Foray as Allison slipped on hiscoat--both officers had been working in their shirt sleeves--"we needyou here. We are so short-handed in the office now that I don't know howwe are going to get through to-night. I can't handle four instruments,and----"

  "I will do my best," said Allison, turning away rapidly.

  He bowed as he did so to a little party which at that moment entered theroom through the door, obstructing his passage. There were two veryspick and span young officers with Miss Caroline Mitford between them,while just behind loomed the ponderous figure of old Martha.

  "You wait in the hall right here, Martha; I won't be long," saidCaroline, pausing a moment to let the others precede her.

  The two young men stopped on either side of the door and waited for her.

  "Miss Mitford," said the elder, "this is the Department TelegraphOffice."

  "Thank you," said Caroline, entering the room with only the briefest ofacknowledgments of the profound bows of her escorts.

  She was evidently very much agitated and troubled over what she wasabout to attempt. The two young men followed her as she stepped down thelong room.

  "I am afraid you have gone back on the Army, Miss Mitford," said one ofthem pleasantly.

  "Gone back on the Army, why?" asked Caroline mystified.

  "Seems like we should have a salute as you went by."

  "Oh, yes," said the girl.

  She raised her hand and saluted in a perfunctory and absent-mindedmanner, then turned away from them. She nodded to the messengers, someof whom she knew. One of them, who knew her best, stepped forward.

  "Good-evening, Miss Mitford, could we do anything in the office for youto-night?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes,--you can. I want to send a--a telegram."

  The other of the young officers who had escorted her, who had remainedsilent, now entered the conversation.

  "Have you been receiving some bad news, Miss Mitford?" he askedsympathetically.

  "Oh, no."

  "Maybe some friend of yours has gone to the front, and----" interposedthe first officer.

  "Well, supposing he had," said Caroline, "would you call that bad news?"

  "I don't know as you would exactly like to----"

  "Let me tell you," said Caroline, "as you don't seem to know, that allmy friends have gone to the front."

  There was an emphasis on the pronoun which should have warned the youngsoldier what was about to occur, but he rushed blindly to his doom.

  "I hope not all, Miss Mitford," he replied.

  "Yes, all," rejoined Caroline, making the "all" very emphatic, "for ifthey did not they wouldn't be my friends."

  "But some of us a
re obliged to stay here to take care of you, you know,"contributed the other young man.

  "Well, there are altogether too many of you trying to take care of me,"said Caroline saucily, with some return of her usual lightness, "and youare all discharged."

  "Do you mean that, Miss Mitford?"

  "I certainly do."

  "Well, I suppose if we are really discharged, we will have to go,"returned the other.

  "Yes," said his companion regretfully, "but we are mighty sorry to seeyou in such low spirits."

  "Would you like to put me in real good spirits, you two?" askedCaroline, resolved to read these young dandies who were staying at homea lesson.

  "Wouldn't we!" they both cried together. "There's nothing we would likebetter."

  "Well, I will tell you just what to do then," returned the girl gravelyand with deep meaning.

  Everybody in the room, with the exception of Lieutenant Foray, was nowlistening intently.

  "Start right out this very night," said the girl, "and don't stop tillyou get to where my real friends are, lying in trenches and ditches andearth-works between us and the Yankee guns."

  "But really, Miss Mitford," began one, his face flushing at her severerebuke, "you don't absolutely mean that."

  "So far as we are concerned," said one of the messengers, including hiscompanions with a sweep of his hand, "we'd like nothing better, but theywon't let us go, and----"

  "I know they won't," said Caroline, "but so far as you two gentlemen areconcerned, I really mean it. Go and fight the Yankees a few days and liein ditches a few nights until those uniforms you've got on look as ifthey might have been of some use to somebody. If you are so mightyanxious to do something for me, that is what you can do. It is the onlything I want, it is the only thing anybody wants."

  "Messenger here!" cried Lieutenant Foray as the two young officers,humiliated beyond expression by the taunts of the impudent young maiden,backed away and finally managed to make an ungraceful exit through theopen door, followed by the titters of the messengers, who took advantageof the presence of the young girl to indulge in this grave breach ofdiscipline.

  "Messenger!" cried Foray impatiently.

  "Here, sir," came the answer.

  "Commissary General's office!" was the injunction with which Forayhanded the man the telegram.

  He looked up at the same time, and with a great start of surprise caughtsight of Caroline at the far end of the long room.

  "Lieutenant Foray," began the girl.

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Mitford," said the operator, scrambling to hisfeet and making a frantic effort to get into his coat. "I heard some onecome in, but I was busy with an important message and didn't appreciatethat----"

  "No, never mind, don't put on your coat," said Caroline. "I came onbusiness, and----"

  "You want to send a telegram?" asked the Lieutenant.

  "Yes."

  "I am afraid we can't do anything for you here, Miss Mitford, this isthe War Department Official Telegraph Office, you know."

  "Yes, I know," said Caroline, "but it is the only way to send it where Iwant it to go, and I----"

  At that moment the clicking of a key called Lieutenant Foray away.

  "Excuse me," he said, stepping quickly to his table.

  Miss Mitford, who had never before been in a telegraph office, was verymuch mystified by the peremptory manner in which the officer had cut hershort, but she had nothing to do but wait. Presently the message wastranscribed, another messenger was called.

  "Over to the Department, quick as you can go. They are waiting for it,"said Foray. "Now, what was it you wanted me to do, Miss Mitford?"

  "Just to--to send a telegram," faltered Caroline.

  "It's private business, is it not?" said Foray.

  "Yes, it is strictly private."

  "Then you will have to get an order from----"

  "That is what I thought," said Caroline, "so here it is."

  "Why didn't you tell me before," returned Foray, taking the paper."Oh,--Major Selwin----"

  "Yes, he--he's one of my friends."

  "It's all right then," interposed the Lieutenant, who was naturally verybusinesslike and peremptory.

  He pushed a chair to the other side of the table, placed a small sheetof paper on the table in front of her, and shoved the pen and inkconveniently to hand.

  "You can write there, Miss Mitford," he said.

  "Thank you," said Caroline, looking rather ruefully at the tiny piece ofpaper which had been provided for her.

  Paper was a scarce article then, and every scrap was precious. Shedecided that such a piece was not sufficient for her purposes, and whenLieutenant Foray's back was turned she took a larger piece of paper ofsufficient capacity to contain her important message, to the compositionof which she proceeded with much difficulty and many pauses and sighs.