It was the first week in November when he rode across the Long Bridge into Washington and fastened his horse to a tree in front of the War Department.
He sent in his name, and the summons came promptly. He entered an inner office, and was alone with a thick-set man with a grim mouth, and beard falling half-way down his chest, who rapidly turned the leaves of a book of entry.
"Captain Windham?" he said, and went on turning the leaves.
"Yes, sir."
"I have received three despatches from you. September 30th, by an old negro. Christian name, Joe."
"Daddy Joe," murmured Gard.
"Not at all! Simply Joe."
"Oh! I thought it was Daddy," said Gard, sadly.
"Joe—simply Joe. October 15th, by an officer of General ——'s brigade, on sick leave; name, Burton. October 24th, by Army Post. Harper's Ferry. Is that correct?"