Among them, and in the
roar of the railroad shops and the bustle of the city, he lost,
perhaps temporarily, that haunting sense of pain and gloom. Despite
himself the deference shown him was flattering, and his old habit of
making friends reasserted itself. His place was assured now. There
were rumors in the air of branch lines for the Union Pacific. He was
consulted for advice, importuned for positions, invited here and
there. So that the days in Omaha were both profitable and
pleasurable.
Then came a telegram from Warburton calling him to Washington, D.C.
It took more than two days to get there, and the time dragged slowly
for Neale. It seemed to him that his importance grew as he traveled,
a fact which was amusing to him. All this resembled a dream.
When he reached the hotel designated in the telegram it was to
receive a warm greeting from Warburton.
"It's a long trip to make for nothing," said the director. "And
that's what it amounts to now. I thought I'd need you to answer a
few questions for me. But you'll not be questioned officially, and
so you'd better keep a close mouth ... We've raised the money. The
completion of the U.P.R. is assured."
Neale could only conjecture what those questions might have been,
for the director offered no explanation.
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