“You’re just a Tory, Grandfather,” Weston had said with a laugh.

“Take care, all the same,” Master had counseled James. “And stay away from Paris, whatever you do.”

He did harbor one other hope for James’s journey, though. No word had been heard from Vanessa for a long time. He supposed she was probably in London now. Though James had been having a discreet affair with a charming widow in New York for the last couple of years, Master hoped that his son might settle down with a new wife one day, but first his nonexistent marriage to Vanessa would have to be formally ended. Perhaps, he had gently suggested to James, this might be a useful business to attend to while he was over there.

So now, to restore peace and harmony, he bowed stiffly to Jefferson.

“I must apologize, sir, for my intemperate language,” he said politely. “And you must forgive me if I rise to defend the city where I was born. I am like a loyal husband, who defends his wife against criticism, even if he knows she has her faults.”

It was graciously said, and James looked relieved. Weston was glancing hopefully at Jefferson.

But Jefferson, who was not entirely without vanity, did not seem ready to reciprocate just yet. Tall, ramrod-straight, his finely hewn face still wore an expression of distaste. And it was while the brief silence persisted that Master, as much to reassure himself as anything, added one further thought.

“I am bound to say, sir, that whatever New York’s shortcomings, when you consider its position, its great harbor and its natural advantages, I hardly think it likely that a better capital could be found.”

And now a little gleam of triumph appeared in the great man’s eye.

“I believe you will discover,” he responded, “that the matter of America’s capital will soon be settled. And not,” he added firmly, “as you wish.”

“How so?” Master frowned. “Is Congress so anxious to return to Philadelphia?”

“Philadelphia is a fine city, and I should sooner be there than here. But I believe we shall build a new capital, further south.”

“Build a new capital?”

“Exactly.”

“That will cost Congress a great deal of money,” Master remarked drily. “I hope they can afford it. And may I ask where?”

“Down on the Potomac River.”

“The Potomac?” Master looked astonished. “But it’s all swamp down there.”

“Frankly, I’d sooner a swamp than New York,” said Jefferson, not without relish.

Could the Virginian be telling the truth? New York was to be abandoned in favor of a swamp? The idea seemed preposterous. Master glanced at his son. But James only nodded.

“That is the latest word, Father,” he said. “I just heard of it today. Philadelphia will be the interim capital, then everything will move to the new place.”

For a moment Master could scarcely believe them, as he looked from one to the other.

“Is this a joke?” he cried.