btain instructions--possibly a warrant--from
Secretary Stanton; on his return he told me that nothing could be
decided until Shipley's case had been inquired into; he assured me that
the latter should be telegraphed for at once from Wheeling; and so, with
the pleasantest of smiles, and a jest on his lips, handed me over to
Colonel Baker, who was already in waiting. This official's overt
functions are those of a District Provost Marshal--in reality, he is the
Chief of Secret Police. There are legions of stories abroad, imputing to
him the grossest oppression and venality; even strong Unionists shake
their heads disparagingly, at the mention of his name.

But of Colonel Baker, from my own knowledge, I can say nothing: I simply
passed through his office to the Old Capitol; nor do I know that he in
anywise influenced my after fortunes.

It appeared that my quarters were to be, not in the main building of the
prison, but in a sort of _dependaence_, a couple of hundred yards off,
called Carroll place; thither I was at once removed, after a brief
consultation with the officer on guard.

Mr. Wood, the head Superintendent, soon came to welcome the new arrival,
and in his first sentence gave me a specimen of the _brusquerie_ of
address for which he has acquired a certain notoriety.

"Mr. ----," he said, "I'm always glad to see your countrymen _here_. My
father was an Englishman; but I've no sympathy with England. I was born
and bred a plebeian, sir."

As I felt no particular interest in Mr. Wood's proclivities or
proletarianism, I simply shrugged my shoulders, and turned away without
a reply. But when, on his first visit to my room, two days later, he
repeated exactly the same formula, without variation of a syllable, I
thought it better to assure him that the iteration was absolutely
unnecessary, inasmuch as I had believed him on _both_ points easily from
the first. He was not at all disconcerted or offended, only we heard him
mutter to his subordinate, when they got outside our door:

"That's a pretty d----d high-handed sort of a chap, anyhow."

After half an hour's waiting, I was conducted to a room on the third
story, No. 20, and in a few minutes experienced that great rarity of a
"fresh sensation," finding myself--for the very first time in my
life--fairly under lock and key.

I had been so "harried" of late, that I felt a certain relief in being
settled _somewhere_. The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent in