Carter drew a long breath, poured out another dose of brandy, partially raised it and then set it, down without drinking.
"There are ten river steamboats here," he went on—"ten transports which are not wanted. I have received a message from headquarters to the effect that we no longer need our present large force of transports. The army will not retreat from Grande Ecore. It is sufficiently reinforced to go to Shreveport. I am empowered to select eight of these transports for sale—you understand."
"Precisely," bowed Hollister. "If the army advances, of course it does not need transports."
As to the military information he neither believed nor disbelieved, knowing well that the Colonel would not honestly tell him anything of consequence on that score.
"Well, they will be sold," added Carter, after a pause, during which he vainly tried to imagine some other method of covering his enormous defalcation. "They will be sold at auction. They will probably bring next to nothing. I propose that you be present to buy them."
The broker closed his eyes for a moment or two, and when he had opened them he had made his calculations. He inferred that the United States Government was not to profit much by the transaction; that, in plain words, it was to be cheated out of an amount of property more or less considerable; and, being a Confederate at heart, he had no objection.
"Why not have a private sale?" he asked.
"It is contrary to the Regulations."
"Ah! Then it might be well not to have the auction made too public."
"I suppose so. Perhaps that can be arranged."