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The Virginia state trooper, in a stiff-brimmed hat, swaggered up to the car.

"May I see your license and registration, please, Sir?" he asked, with ritual courtesy.

They were handed over.

"Sir, are you Charles D. Staley, of this Q Street, Northwest, address, in the District?"

"Yes, Sir," the driver said.

"And this vehicle is the property of..." He paused to examine the registration with his flashlight."... W J. Donovan?"

"Yes, it is."

"Does Mr. Donovan know you are driving his vehicle?"

"I'm Donovan," Donovan said. The trooper flashed his light in Donovan's face.

"Yes, Sir," he said. He returned his attention to the driver.

"Sir, you went through a speed-detection area. You were clocked, over a measured quarter mile, at seventy-three point six miles per hour."

"I didn't realize I was going that fast," the driver said.

"Two state troopers will testify that you were, Sir," the trooper said.

"I'm going to have to issue you a citation. You will be charged with reckless driving.

The law is that any speed twenty miles in excess of the posted speed limit is considered reckless driving. Are you aware, Sir, that in order to conserve gasoline and rubber for the war effort, the speed limit across the nation is now thirty-five miles per hour?"

"I heard about that," the driver said dryly.

"If you are found guilty in a court of law--the place and time of your required appearance will be on the citation I am about to give you--your local ration board will be notified of this violation. You have a C sticker, which means that you agreed in writing to make a genuine effort to conserve the gasoline authorized for you. I think you will agree that driving seventy-three point six miles per hour does not conserve fuel."

"I was in sort of a hurry," the driver said.

"So are our boys in uniform," the state trooper said.

"In a hurry to get the war over. And personally, I think we should do all we can to help them."

Ellis! "Donovan warned softly.

"Can I go now?" Staley asked, taking the citation.

"Yes, Sir," the state trooper said, and marched off.

The driver cranked up the window.

"Sorry about that, Colonel," he said.

"Hell, I told you to step on it," Donovan said.

"Ellis, give Staley money to pay the fine. If there are any other complications, let Captain Douglass know."

"Yes, Sir," Ellis said.

"And as soon as we're over the next hill," Donovan said, "step on it."

Twenty minutes later, the Buick was in the Rock Creek section of the District of Columbia, moving down Q Street, Northwest. They came to an estate surrounded by an eight-foot-high brick wall. The driver switched from low beam to high beam and back again, and a moment later turned off Q Street, stopping the Buick with its nose against a heavy, solid gate in the wall.