I did not dare tarry too long at a time, for fear that my constant attendance at the office might excite some suspicion.
It was only while I was on the alert to get something tangible about the proposed movement of the army that I was willing to take some extra risks to obtain official information.
It was evident, from the increased activity about the offices of the War Department, that something was up. Since I had heard of this proposed advance, I was giving the Departments considerable attention, and rarely missed an opportunity to see as far as I could from the outside what was going on inside.
From my bench, under the trees in the park, I could see that the office was being besieged almost constantly by crowds of people, mostly members of their Congress, who had to pass my seat on their way from the Capitol building to the War Department.
They went in groups of two to four at a time; sometimes a Congressman would be accompanied by an officer in the gray uniform.
As they passed me, their conversation seemed to be animated—in short, there was a general feeling among the crowd, as far as I could gather anything, that something important was pending.
Yet I had no facts—simply surmises, and gossip.
I could not learn much at the telegraph office, and had about abandoned the attempt in that direction, until I struck a plan that was a little risky, but, under the circumstances, I felt justifiable in undertaking almost anything.
Noticing a messenger leaving the War Department, I followed him at a respectful distance. He went straight to the telegraph office; so did I. I entered the door just a moment after him, and was carelessly edging toward the delivery clerk, to put my stereotyped interrogation to him, when he said in my hearing to the messenger:
"Shall we send dispatches from the President to Mrs. Davis at her home to-night?"