Thirty-FourCharles Moses Washington’s gray, wiry hair stood upright from his scalp as if some invisible magnetic force hovered overhead, drawing him forth with unflagging power. Despite his ash hair, his face was infused with the alert glow of a much younger man. His compact form, clad in the somber formal black suit of a religious man, exuded a vitality that promised immediate action. Even in the latter stage of life, he was a warrior for Christ rather than a contemplative preacher, Sebastian saw with a sense of warm approval.
The modest front parlor was quiet and empty. There was no sign of Mrs Purdy and the boys. Sebastian had quickly explained he’d got the address from Cressida and told the chaplain of the peril the widow might face. “I believe the Purdy house was deliberately fired,
