Fitz had not yet arrived when the Colonel in his eagerness stepped in
front of me, and peered through the hole in the glass partition which
divided Fitz's inner and outer offices.
"Come inside, Colonel, and wait--expect him after a while," was the
reply from one of the clerks,--the first arrival.
But the Colonel was too restless to sit down, and too absorbed even to
thank the young man for his courtesy or to accept his invitation. He
continued pacing up and down the outer office, stopping now and then
to note the heap of white ribbons tangled up in a wicker
basket--records of the disasters and triumphs of the day before,--or
to gaze silently at the large map that hung over the steam-heater, or
to study in an aimless way the stock lists skewered to the wall.
He had risen earlier than usual and had dressed himself with the
greatest care and with every detail perfect. His shoes with their
patches, one on each toe, were polished to more than Chad's customary
brilliancy; his gray hair was brushed straight back from his forehead,
its ends overlapping the high collar behind; his goatee was twisted to
a fish-hook point and curled outward from his shirt-front; his
moustache was smooth and carefully trimmed.
The coat,--it was the same old double-breasted coat, of many
repairs--was buttoned tight over his chest giving his slender figure
that military air which always distinguished the Virginian when some
matter of importance, some matter involving personal defence or
offence, had to be settled. In one hand he carried his heavy cane with
its silver top, the other held his well-brushed hat.
"What has kept Fitz?" he asked with some anxiety.
"Nothing, Colonel. Board doesn't open till ten o'clock. He'll be along
presently," I answered.
Half an hour passed and still no Fitz. By this time I, too, had begun
to feel nervous. This was a day of all others for a man in Fitz's
position to be on hand early.