As Hart entered the Alderman's office he noticed the Beale job pamphlet on the desk.
"Are you the Beale", Hart blurted out.
The Alderman let out a laugh like the roar of a freight train," I am Beale, but not that Beale. Please have a seat and we can ponder over this dime novel and the curious coincidence of the names".
The Alderman opened a desk drawer and produced a bottle and two glasses, pouring two fingers into each.
"Peach brandy", he announced," While handing his guest a Cuban box pressed cigar and lighting one himself. "I'll share my story with you".
"I was born I 1827, a foundling raised b a kindly Quaker family in Richmond's second Ward, so for starts, I was not even born when the story claims Mr Beale met with Mr Morriss. I have never been to Bedford county or Lynchburg and never met with this Mr Ward".
Hart listened, with full concentration, then inquired," What did you do during the War"?
"Oh, I see, the mention of the second year", the Alderman mused," I, with other freeborn men, formed the Richmond Howitzers, to defend our town from the invading Union forces".
"Is you middle name, Jefferson", Hart asked?
"No, the J is for Jackson, which I added after President Grant named this area, Jackson Ward. My sincere hope is that I have satisfied your questions, and that I am not the dime novel Beale, and have no knowledge of buried treasure".
Shaking hands, Hart departed, knowing that his quest was not over. He just had to find a Thomas Jefferson Beale.