In an hour,
much to the surprise of the manager, this important gentleman walked
into the office and asked for the boy.
After a short talk there, the two went to a hotel and secured a private
room, and two clerks familiar with code work were sent for. When a
waiter, in answer to a call, looked into the room he was astonished
at seeing the four very busy over a packet of letters.
Then, in a short time, code messages began to rain in on the manager.
They were from Washington, from the Pacific coast, and from various
forts scattered about the country. The manager confided to his wife
when he went home to luncheon that it seemed to him as if another war
was beginning. All the military offices in the country seemed talking
in code, he said.
"What has this boy you speak of got to do with military operations?"
asked the wife, wondering at a lad of Nestor's age being mixed up in
a state affair.
"That is what I don't know," was the reply. "He came to the office
this morning and sent for me, as you know. When I met him he
asked for a code expert and wired to the biggest man in this military
division. Then the code work began."
It was late in the evening when Nestor returned to the cottage and
announced himself ready for the southern trip. Fremont, who had
been impatiently awaiting his arrival, was eager to know the status
of the Cameron case.
"Mr. Cameron is alive, but unconscious," was the unsatisfactory reply.
"The police ordered him taken to a hospital and his people summoned.
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