“Sure. I want some supper in a hurry and a room at your leisure.”
The landlord shouts to the hostler, who leads Rozinante away to his well-earned grain, and Ashley follows Carter into the hotel, with the remark: “I do not care to have those chaps in there see me, or know who I am.”
“All right, sir. This way. The troopers are all in the drinking-room and they haven’t moved out of their chairs for an hour.”
Supper over, Ashley is shown to his room and the landlord is about to make his exit with a cheerful “good-night,” when Ashley remarks:
“By the way, have you an old coat and hat of any description?”
Carter scratches his head reflectively. “I have an old Grand Army uniform that I brought with me from the states. I was a member of the 13th Massachusetts volunteers, and after the war joined the Chelsea post, when—”
“That will do very nicely,” interrupts Ashley. “I want to borrow the uniform for a few hours.”
“All right, sir. I’ll get it out in the morning.”
“But I want it to-night.”
“Very good, sir. I’ve been too long in this business to ask questions. Used to run a small hotel in Boston,” grins Carter, as he vanishes. He returns shortly with the clothes, and Ashley, after a glance, pronounces them satisfactory.