It took me nearly a quarter of an hour to get myself tolerably clean,
and I could not have done that had I not used some grease that was upon
the stand. At the end, however, I stepped back from the glass confident
that with good luck I should run the gantlet safely.

Just as I prepared to step forth a new thought occurred to me--who was
I? If questioned, as was highly probable, how could I account for my
presence? Who should I pretend to be? I turned over the mass of papers
lying before me on the table. They were mostly accounts and detailed
orders about which I cared nothing, but finally my search was rewarded
by the discovery of a recent army list. I ran my eyes hastily down the
artillery assignments--Barry, Sommers, Fitzmorris, Sloan, Reilly. Ah,
there at last was exactly what I wanted--"Patrick L. Curran, Colonel
Sixth Ohio Light Artillery, McRoberts's Division, Thomas's Corps,
assigned special service, staff Major-General Halleck, Washington, D.
C."

"Curran, Sixth Ohio"--good; and the other? I glanced again at the open
order. "Culbertson, Fourteenth Pennsylvania." I would remember those
names, and with a jaunty confidence in my success, born of thorough
preparation, I stepped to the open door and strode forth into the
brilliantly lighted hall. Barring the single accident of encountering a
possible acquaintance in the throng below, I felt fully capable of
deceiving his Satanic Majesty himself.




CHAPTER XV