It was short and to the point, because I had not time—at least I thought I should not have—to "cipher out" a longer dispatch, as I wanted to get this through quickly. With this in my hands, I joined the Colonel down stairs, and together we walked along to Colonel J. B. Jones' office, and on the other side of the square.
The evening previous, while venturing out, I had first been careful to ascertain, by a cautious inspection of the people about the hotel, before I should approach any of the groups of men always loafing about the hotel, that my superintendent from Manassas was not among them.
I cautiously inspected the register, and, at a favorable opportunity, remarked to the gentlemanly clerk, as if I were surprised and delighted at the discovery:
"Why! is Mr. Superintendent here?"
The Richmond hotel clerks are like the same fellows every place else, and he did not deign a response to my inquiry as he was talking to another party. I looked, perhaps, rather inquisitively at him, finally attracting his attention, as he turned to a colored boy and said, apologetically:
"Show this gentleman up to 62."
"Oh, no! never mind; I'll not disturb him to-night; I'll see him again."
I didn't ask any further questions.
The next morning I was greatly relieved to learn from a colored porter that the Superintendent "Had gone off on de early cahs."
It was late in the evening when the Colonel and I called on Colonel Jones with my letter. I remember this, from the fact that the genial Colonel was preparing to close his office for the night, but he kindly took charge of my open letter, and, without a word of question, placed it in a pigeon-hole, in which were quite a number of other sealed letters. I asked, with an assumed expression of deep interest and anxiety in my manner, if the Colonel had any letters for me.