"Where they sell paper and pens—and 'pothecaries."
"Sit down—you look tired." It was plain that they were soon about to move and were buying what was needed in the South—quinine, of course. But what had been their errand? He said, "Get some supper and come back soon."
Then he sat down to think. An engineer of competence lately back from Europe! His errand—their errand—must be of moment. He took a small revolver out of a drawer, put in shells, placed it in his breast pocket, and secured a box of matches. About nine, in a summer thunder-shower of wind and rain, he followed Josiah and walked to No. 229 Sixteenth Street. As he stood he asked,
"How did those men get in, Josiah?"
"All had keys. Want to get in, Colonel?"
"Yes, I want to get in. Are there any others in the house—servants—any one?"
"No, sir," Josiah said. "I went round to an alley at the back of the house. There are lights on the second storey. You can get in easy at the back, sir."
Seeing a policeman on the opposite pavement, Penhallow at once changed his plan of entrance, and crossing the street said to the policeman, "Is this your beat?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good! You see I am in uniform. Here is my card. I am on duty at the War Department. Here is my general pass from the Provost-marshal General. Come to the gas lamp and read it. Here are ten dollars. I have to get into No. 229 on Government business. If I do not come out in thirty minutes, give the alarm, call others and go in. Who lives there?"