“Mrs. Delilah Jones,” said that gentleman, in a private note to Ele, “is our old friend, Kitty Dunham. She appears in Washington as the widow of a captain in the navy, who died a few years since upon the Brazil station. She can be of the greatest service to us; and you must have no secrets from each other about our dear friend, who shall be nameless.”
To Abel Newt, General Belch wrote: “My dear Newt, the lady to whom I have given a letter to you is daughter of an old friend of my family. She married Captain Jones of the navy, whom she lost some years since upon the Brazil station. She has seen the world; has money; and comes to Washington to taste life, to enjoy herself—to doff the sables, perhaps, who knows? Be kind to her, and take care of your heart. Don’t forget the Grant in the arms of Delilah! Yours, Belch.”
Abel Newt, when he received this letter, looked over his books of reports and statistics.
“Captain Jones—Brazil station,” he said, skeptically, to himself. But he found no such name or event in the obituaries; and he was only the more amused by his friend Belch’s futile efforts at circumvention and control.
“My dear Belch,” he replied, after he had made his investigations, “I have your private note, but I have not yet encountered the superb Delilah; nor have I forgotten what you said to me about working ‘em through their wives, and sisters, etc. I shall not begin to forget it now, and I hope to make the Delilah useful in the campaign; for there are goslings here, more than you would believe. Thank you for such an ally. You, at least, were not born to fail. Yours, A. Newt.”
“Goslings, are there? I believe you,” said Belch to himself, inwardly chuckling as he read and folded Abel’s letter.
“Ally, hey? Well, that is good,” he continued, the chuckle rising into a laugh. “Well, well, I thought Abel Newt was smart; but he doesn’t even suspect, and I have played a deeper game than was needed.”
“I guess that will fix him,” said Abel, as he looked over his letter, laughed, folded it, and sent it off.
Mr. Ele by many a devious path at length approached the object of his visit, and hoped that Mr. Newt would flesh his maiden sword in the coming fray. Abel said, without removing his cigar, “I think I shall speak.”
He said no more. Mr. Ele shook his foot with inward triumph.