She was gone.




IV

A FAMILY REUNION


Warburton had not been in the city of Washington within twelve
years. In the past his furloughs had been spent at his brother's
country home in Larchmont, out of New York City. Thus, when he left
the train at the Baltimore and Potomac station, he hadn't the
slightest idea where Scott Circle was. He looked around in vain for
the smart cab of the northern metropolis. All he saw was a line of
omnibuses and a few ramshackle vehicles that twenty years back might
very well have passed for victorias. A grizzled old negro, in command
of one of these sea-going conveyances, caught Warburton's eye and
hailed jovially. Our hero (as the good novelists of the past
generation would say, taking their readers into their innermost
confidences) handed him his traveling case and stepped in.

"Whar to, suh?" asked the commodore.

"Scott Circle, and don't pommel that old nag's bones in trying to get
there. I've plenty of time."

"I reckon I won't pommel him, suh. Skt! skt!" And the vehicle rattled