"That you get for me--and get quickly--inside information of what is done and what is proposed to be done at Montgomery. I want the names of every man discussed for high office among them, his chances of appointment, his friends, his enemies--why they are his friends, why they are his enemies. I want their plans, their prospects, their hopes, their fears, and I want this information quickly. You will be supplied with ample funds, and your report must be made to me in person. My tenure of this office will be but a few weeks longer--but you are my personal representative, you understand?" "Quite." "Your report must be in person to me, and to me alone." "I understand, sir." Socola rose, extended his hand, drew his cloak about his slender shoulders and passed out into the storm, his dark face lighted by a smile as he recalled the winsome face of Jennie Barton. CHAPTER IV A FRIENDLY WARNING The withdrawal of the Southern Senators and Representatives from Congress produced in Washington the upheaval of a social earthquake. An atmosphere of tears and ominous foreboding hung pall-like over the city's social life. Each step in the departure of wives and daughters was a pang. Carriages drawn by sleek, high-bred horses dashed through the broad streets with excited haste. The black coachman on the box held his reins with a nervous grip that communicated itself to the horses. He had caught the excitement in the quivering social structure of which he was part. What he was really thinking down in the depths of his African soul only God could see. His dark face merely grinned in quick obedience to command. From every house where these farewells were being said, a weeping woman emerged and waved a last adieu to the tear-stained faces at the window. Wagons and carts lumbered through the streets on their way to the wharf or station, piled high with baggage. Hotel-keepers stood in the doorway of their establishments with darkened brows. The glory of the past was departing. The future was a blank. On the morning after his farewell address to the Senate, a messenger, who refused to give his name, was ushered into the library of Senator Davis. The stately black butler bowed again with quiet dignity. "Yo' name, sah? I--failed to catch it?" The messenger lifted his hand: "No name. Please say to the Senator that I came from an important official with a message of the gravest importance--I wish to see him alone at once--" The faithful servant eyed his visitor with an ominous look. There was no question of his loyalty to the man he served. "It's all right, Robert, I'm a friend of Senator Davis." A moment's hesitation and the black man bowed with deference. "Yassah--yassah--I tell him right away, sah. You sho' knows me anyhow, sah--" The Senator was in bed suffering again from facial neuralgia. He rose promptly, dressed hastily but completely and carefully and extended both hands to his visitor.