Later that very morning I met Katherine just outside the Three Lanterns and we moved inside quickly and away from the door. “It’s Quimby, he’s gone,” she said. “Come in, I’ll tell you about it.”
The darkness of the hall had met us at the door and when my eyes adjusted to the low light, I saw Ian, the bartender, motioning us over to the bar. The tinkle of a player piano against a back wall echoed the hollowness of a quiet stage with a closed curtain.
“Annie, do you want something?” Kate asked. “We’ve got some good soup.”
Looking up, and in Ian’s direction, “Just tea, please.”
As he stepped away to get our drinks, Katherine told me what had transpired.
“He’s gone. That’s what Ian said. Taken away in a carriage this morning,” she whispered.
Returning, Ian wanted to visit with me. “So how have you been, Miss Cunningham?” he called across the bar, his dancing eyes upon me. “Katy said you’d been working at the hospital near ever’day. That must be a tough job, m’dear, an ugly one too. Why, if you need to get away from it, you can come back here and entertain the troops again.” Then, he added, “With your songs, I mean. Well, you know what I mean. When they come off the train, the soldiers need to escape far beyond the lines they jus’ come from. These boys tell me that now after the Second Manassas, they were so used to seeing death that they looked on the corpse of a man ‘bout the same as they might a horse or a hog. Things have gotten ugly, haven’t they?”
Ian stopped and paused. He turned towards us again and must have realized that we weren’t the usual barflies with whom he usually rambled on. He added, “I should stop my yapping. So, how are you anyway?”
“Fine thanks, and glad to be away from the hospital for a few hours. From what I can tell you may get a lot more business in the next few weeks. ”
“Yeah, I gathered that from reading the paper,” Ian replied. “But now, real odd things are going on.” Looking towards Kate who was sipping a drink next to me, “I was telling Kate that just this mornin’ I saw Quimby escorted out of his office. Couldn’t tell their rank from where I was standing, but they looked like they were arresting him. Now what could Quimby be up to that I wouldn’t know about?” Ian asked. “He’s just like the rest of us. Just seemed a bit cleaner, well polished. But that ain’t a crime now is it?”
“Where do you suppose they took him? “I asked.
“Well they weren’t headed to the train depot.” Straining my tea, he went on. “They led him to a carriage and walked him with their guns drawn. I seen two or three gray coats taking him. They headed east. Towards the prison I s’pose. What fer? I couldn’t guess.” Ian responded, handing us our drinks. Soon another customer sat down at the far end of the bar and Ian became engaged in conversation with him.
Kate and I sipped our tea in silence. I wondered how this would all end.