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diff --git a/old/69849-0.txt b/old/69849-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 183243d..0000000 --- a/old/69849-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10050 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mr. Arnold, by Francis Lynde - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Mr. Arnold - A romance of the Revolution - -Author: Francis Lynde - -Illustrator: John Wolcott Adams - -Release Date: January 21, 2023 [eBook #69849] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust - Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. ARNOLD *** - - - - - -[Illustration] - - “Mais j’y suis, et, mes bons camarades, par tous les dieux, j’y - reste!” - - CHARLES K. JOHNSTON. - -[Illustration] - - - - -MR. ARNOLD - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - MR. ARNOLD - - A ROMANCE OF THE REVOLUTION - - _By_ - FRANCIS LYNDE - _Author of_ - THE GRAFTERS, THE MASTER OF APPLEBY, - THE QUICKENING, ETC. - - _Frontispiece by_ - JOHN WOLCOTT ADAMS - - INDIANAPOLIS - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1923 - BY THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - - _Printed in the United States of America_ - - PRESS OF - BRAUNWORTH & CO. - BOOK MANUFACTURERS - BROOKLYN, N. Y. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I HOW WE DRANK A TOAST 1 - - II A VOICE IN THE NIGHT 13 - - III IN WHICH I SHED MY RANK 32 - - IV HOW MY RANK WAS REGAINED 50 - - V A KISS AND A MAN’S LIFE 73 - - VI DARK NIGHT 85 - - VII AND AN UNBLEST DAWN 93 - - VIII A WALK UP GALLOWS HILL 104 - - IX IN WHICH I PAY A DUTY CALL 114 - - X IN WHICH A WALL HAS EARS 131 - - XI OUT OF THE NETTLE, DANGER 146 - - XII HOW THE HOOK WAS BAITED 163 - - XIII HOW A FISH WAS HOOKED AND LOST 176 - - XIV A CASK OF BITTERS 192 - - XV IN THE FOG 205 - - XVI THE CUP OF TANTALUS 209 - - XVII MASKED BATTERIES 221 - - XVIII IN WHICH THE WIND KEEPS REVELS 239 - - XIX MINE HONOR’S HONOR 256 - - XX TRAITORS ALL 277 - - XXI THE DRUMHEAD COURT 296 - - XXII IN THE POWDER-ROOM 307 - - XXIII OPEN FIELD AND RUNNING FLOOD 329 - - - - -MR. ARNOLD - - - - -MR. ARNOLD - - - - -I - -HOW WE DRANK A TOAST - - -IF THERE were nothing else to recall the day and date, December 14, -1780, I should still be able to name it because it chanced to be my -twenty-second birthday, and Jack Pettus, of the Virginia Hundreds, and -I were breaking a bottle of wine in honor of it in the bar of old Dirck -van Ditteraick’s pot-house tavern at Nyack. - -The afternoon was cold and gray and dismal. The wine was prodigiously -bad; and the tavern bar, lighted by a couple of guttering candles in -wall sconces, was a reeking kennel. I was hand-blistered from my long -pull down the river from Teller’s Point; and Jack, who had ridden the -four miles from General Washington’s headquarters at Tappan to keep -the mild birthday wassail with me, was in a mood bitter enough to kill -whatever joy the anniversary might be supposed to hold for both or -either of us. - -“I’m telling you, Dick, we’re miles deeper in the ditch than we’ve -been any year since this cursed war began!” he summed up gloomily, -when we had chafed in sour impatience, as all men did, over the -sorry condition of our rag-tag, starving patriot army. “Four months -ago we had eight thousand men fronting Sir Henry Clinton here in the -Highlands; to-day we couldn’t muster half that number. Where are all -the skulkers?” - -“Gone home to get something to eat,” I laughed. “We need to hang a few -commissary quartermasters, Jack.” - -“It isn’t all in the commissary,” he contended, “though I grant you -there are empty bellies enough among us. But above the belly-pinching, -it’s the example set by that thrice-accursed traitor, Arnold, in his -going over to the enemy. Not a night passes now but some troop breaks -the number of its mess by losing a man or two to the southward road.” - -“But not Baylor’s,” I qualified. Pettus was a lieutenant in Major Henry -Lee’s Light Horse Legion, and I a captain in Baylor’s Horse, at the -moment posted at Salem on scouting duty. - -“Our record is broken,” he confessed, staring soberly at his wine-cup. -“Some time back, John Champe, our sergeant-major, took the road at -midnight, beat down the vidette with the flat of his sword, and -galloped off, with Middleton and his troop in hot pursuit. They rode -till dawn, and were in good time to see Champe take to the river at -Bergen and swim out to a king’s ship anchored off-shore.” - -“We of Baylor’s are whole yet, thank God, save for the potting of a man -or so now and then by the Cow-boys,” I boasted. - -“The Light Horse is stirred to the very camp-followers by Champe’s -desertion,” Pettus went on, with growing bitterness. “It’s the honor of -the South.” Then, Van Ditteraick’s vile vintage getting suddenly into -his blood, he clapped bottle to cup again and sprang to his feet. “A -toast!” he cried. “Fill up and drink with me to the honor of Virginia!” - -“Always and anywhere, and in any pot-liquor, however bad,” said I; and -when he let me have the bottle I filled the cup, and was glad to note -that my hand was still steady. - -“Now, then--standing, man, standing!” he bellowed, waving me up: -“Here’s to the loyalty of the Old Dominion, and may the next Virginian -who smirches it, though that man be you or I, Dick Page, live to lose -the woman he loves, and then die by inches on a gibbet, with crows to -pluck his eyes out!” - -If I smiled in my cup it was at the naming of a woman in the curse, -and not at Jack’s extravagance, nor at the savage sentiment. For we -of Baylor’s had privately agreed and sworn to flay alive and burn the -first man caught deserting the colors, no matter what his name should -be nor how high his standing. - -After drinking his terrible toast, Jack dropped into his chair and -relapsed into silence; whereat I had a chance to look about me, and to -gather myself for the question which, more than the mere drinking of -a birthday bottle with Pettus, had brought me to the point of asking -Colonel Baylor’s leave to ride and row from our camp at Salem to Nyack -on this raw December day. - -“Jack,” I began, when the silence had sufficed, “are you sober enough -to thread a needle for me in that matter of Captain Seytoun’s?” - -“Try me and see, Dick,” he said promptly, sitting up and pushing the -bottle aside. - -“Word came to me yesterday, through Martin, the orderly who rode with -despatches from the commander-in-chief to Colonel Baylor, that Seytoun -had been talking again,” I went on, trying to keep the rage tremor out -of my voice. “Martin had it that he had been revamping that old lie -about the Pages and the ship-load of loose-wives sent over to Virginia -in Charles II’s time. Is this true?” - -Pettus shook his head, not in denial, I made sure, but in deprecation. - -“This is no time to be stirring up past and gone private quarrels, -Dick,” he said. “The good cause needs every sword it has; Bully -Seytoun’s, as well as yours.” - -“You’re not answering my question, Jack,” I retorted, fixing him with -hot eyes. “I heard this of Captain Seytoun, and more: it was said -that he cursed me openly, and that he dragged in the name of Mistress -Beatrix Leigh, swearing that he would take her from me if I were thrice -wedded to her.” - -“A mere pot-house tongue-loosing when he was in liquor, Dick,” said my -friend placably. “It was here, in this very den of Van Ditteraick’s.” - -“Then you heard him?” - -Pettus nodded. “And can testify to his befuddling.” - -“He shall answer for it some day, drunk or sober,” I vowed; and then I -stood my errand fairly upon its rightful feet. “That is what fetched me -to Nyack to-day, Jack. There must be some accommodation brought about -with Captain Seytoun. I am not made of sheepskin like a drumhead--to be -beaten upon forever without breaking.” - -“‘Accommodation’?” Jack queried, with a lip-curl that I did not like. - -“Yes. You are near to Major Lee, who is your very good friend, Jack; a -word from you to the major, and from the major to Captain Seytoun----” - -Pettus never knew what it cost me to say this, or he would not have -countered upon me so fiercely. - -“Good heavens, Dick Page! Has it come to this?----are you asking me -to go roundabout to Seytoun to cry ‘Enough!’ for you? Where is your -Virginia breeding, man!--or have you lost it campaigning in this cursed -country of the flat-footed Dutch?” - -I smiled. This, you may notice, was my cool-blood Jack Pettus, who, but -a moment earlier, had been telling me that the present was no time to -be stirring up private quarrels. But my word was passed--as I knew only -too well, and as he could not know. - -“I can’t fight Captain Seytoun, Jack; but neither can I brook his -endless tongue-lashing,” I said, moodily enough, no doubt. - -“‘Can’t’ is no gentleman’s word, Dick,” he insisted, still fiercely -emphatic upon the point of honor. - -“But just now you said that private quarrels----” - -“I was drunk then, on this vinegar stuff of Van Ditteraick’s; but I’m -sober now. This thing that you propose is simply impossible, Dick. -Can’t you see that it is?” - -I must confess that I did see it as a miserable choice between two -evils. But my chance to win the love of Mistress Beatrix Leigh had not -been lightly earned, and though it was but a chance, I dared not throw -it away. - -“But if I have a good reason--the best of reasons--for not fighting -Captain Seytoun at the present time,” I began. - -Pettus flung up his hand impatiently. - -“You are the judge of that; also of how far a gentleman from Virginia -may go in the matter of eating dirt at his enemy’s hands. But don’t -ask me to carry your apologies for his insults to this bully-ragging -captain, Dick. I’m your friend.” - -I made the sign of acquiescence. The war would end, one day, and then -I should be free of my fetterings. Since our legion had been sent -across the river, I had had no opportunity of collision with Captain -Seytoun--the opportunity which had recurred daily while the two -legions, Baylor’s and Major Lee’s, had been quartered together below -Tappan. If the gossiping orderly had only kept a still tongue in his -head--but he had not, and here I was at Nyack, on Seytoun’s side of -the river, with my finger in my mouth, like a schoolboy caught putting -bent pins on the master’s seat, mad to have it out once for all with my -tormentor, but more eager still to get away with a whole conscience. - -Matters were at this most exasperating poising-point, with the two of -us sitting on opposite sides of the slab drinking-table and glowering -at the half-emptied wine-bottle, when the choice was suddenly taken -from me. There was a medley of hoof-clinkings on the stones of the inn -yard, a great creaking of saddle leather and clanking of accouterments -to go with the dismounting, and some four or five officers of Lee’s -Horse tramped into Van Ditteraick’s bar and called for refreshment. - -Being fathoms deep in an ugly mood, I did not look up until I felt Jack -calling me with his eyes. Then I saw that one of the in-comers was none -other than this same Captain Howard Seytoun; that his red face and -pig-like eyes spoke of other tavern visits earlier in the day; and that -the ostentatious turning of his back upon me was merely the insulting -preface to what should follow. - -What did follow gave me no time to consider. As if he were resuming a -conversation that moment interrupted, Seytoun turned to the man next at -hand--it was Cardrigg, of his own troop--and began to harp on the old -out-worn lie; of how Richard Page, first of the name, had got his wife -out of that ship-load of women gathered up by the London Company from -God knows where and sent out to Virginia to mate with our pioneers, and -how the taint had come down the line to make cowards of the men, and---- - -I think he was going, on to tell how it wrought in the women of our -house when my hand fell upon his shoulder and he was made to spin -around and face me. I do not know what I said; nor would Jack Pettus -tell me afterward. I know only that there was a hubbub of voices, that -the murky candlelight of the dismal kennel had gone red before my eyes, -that Seytoun’s fat hand was lifted, and that before it could fall I had -done something that brought sudden quiet in the low-ceiled room, like -the hush before a tornado. - -Seytoun was dabbling his handkerchief against the livid welt across -his cheek when he said, with an indrawing of the breath: “Ah-h! So you -_will_ fight, then, after all, will you, Mr. Page? I had altogether -despaired of it, I do assure you. To whom shall I send my friend?--and -where?” - -Pettus saved me the trouble of replying; saved me more than that, I -think, for the red haze was rising again, and Seytoun’s great bulk was -fast taking the shape of some loathsome thing that should be throttled -there and then, and flung aside as carrion. - -“Captain Page lodges with me to-night at Tappan,” I heard Jack say, and -his voice seemed to come from a great distance. And then: “I shall be -most happy to arrange the business with your friend, Captain Seytoun, -the happier, since my own mother’s mother was a Page.” After which I -was as a man dazed until I realized that we were out-of-doors, Pettus -and I, in the cold frosty mist, and that Jack was pitching me into the -saddle of a borrowed horse for the gallop to the camp at Tappan. - -“I’ve taken it for granted that your leave covers to-night and -to-morrow morning,” said this next friend of mine, when we were fairly -facing southward. - -“It does,” I replied; and then with the battle murmur still singing in -my ears, and the hot blood yet hammering for its vengeful outlet: “Let -it be at daybreak, in the grass cove at the mouth of the creek, and -with trooper swords.” - -It was coming on to the early December dusk when we rode through the -headquarters cantonments below Tappan village, and the four miles had -been passed in sober silence. I know not what Jack Pettus was thinking -of to make him ride with his lips tight shut; but I do know that my own -thoughts were far from clamoring for speech. For now a certain thing -was plain to me, and momently growing plainer. By some means Seytoun -had learned that I was under bond not to fight him, and he knew what -it would cost me if I did. Wherefore, his repeated provocations had an -object--which object would be gained, and at my expense, whichever way -the morning’s weather-cock of life and death should veer. - -Hot on this thought came the huge conviction that I had merely played -into my sworn enemy’s hands. If he should kill me, I should certainly -be the loser; if I should kill him, I should still be the loser, with -the added drawback of being alive to feel my loss. - -We were walking the horses, neck and neck, up the low hill leading to -the legion cantonments when I asked Jack what I had said and done in -Van Ditteraick’s, and if it were past peaceful, or at least postponing, -remedy. - -“Never tell me you don’t know what you said and did, Dick,” he laughed. - -“But I don’t,” I asserted, telling him the simple truth. “I saw things -vaguely, as if the place were filled with a red mist, and there was a -Babel of voices out of which came a great silence. Then I saw Seytoun -with his handkerchief to his face.” - -“You saw and heard and did quite enough,” he replied, and his smile was -grim. “And there is no remedy, save that which the doctors--and sundry -hot-blooded gentlemen of our own ilk--are fond of; namely, a bit of -blood-letting.” - -“Yet, Jack,” I stammered, “if I say that some remedy must be found; -that it is worse than folly for me to fight this man at this time?” - -He stopped his horse short in mid-road and swore at me like the good -friend he was. - -“If you could turn your back on this now, Dick Page,” he raged, when -the cursing ammunition was all spent, “I could believe at least -one thing the captain says of you. He called you a coward,--as I -remember,--and put a scurrilous lie on all the Pages since the first -Richard to account for it. Great heavens, Dick! can’t you see that this -lie must not go uncontradicted?” - -“You are altogether right, Jack,” I acquiesced; and then, telling the -simple truth again: “This day I seem to have lost what little wit I -ever had. As you say, there is no remedy, now; so we fight at daybreak.” - -“Of course you do,” said Pettus; and so we rode on to the horse-rope -where the legion mounts were tethered. - -It was at the door of Pettus’s quarters, one of the rude log cabins -chinked with clay that the army had been throwing up for winter -shelters, that a surprise was awaiting me in the greeting of Melton, a -young Pennsylvanian who was acting-orderly for General Washington. - -“Good evening, Captain Page,” he said pleasantly. “You have despatches -from Colonel Baylor for the general?” - -“No, Mr. Melton,” I replied, wondering a little. “I am on leave until -to-morrow. This is my birthday.” - -“Ah,” said he, taking my hand most cordially, “allow me to wish you -many happy returns.” Then he went back to the matter of the despatches -I was supposed to be carrying. “It is very singular; Mr. Hamilton -seemed quite sure, and he was certainly advised of your coming to -Tappan headquarters. Perhaps you will be good enough to report to -him--after supper?” - -I said I should be honored, and he went his way and left us to our -frugal evening-bread--how the Dutch speech clings when once you have -washed your mouth with their country wine!--prepared for Pettus by his -scout and horse-holder. - -It was not a very social meal, that supper in Pettus’s hut before the -cheerful open fire--fire being the one thing unstinted in that starving -camp. My thoughts were busy with the meshings of the net into which I -had stumbled; and as for Jack, I think he must have been eager to get -me out of the way before Seytoun’s second should call. At any rate, -it was he who reminded me of Melton’s hint that I would be expected -at General Washington’s headquarters, and I do him no more than fair -justice when I say that he sped the parting guest quite as heartily as -he had welcomed the coming. - -So it came about that it was still early when I set out in the -starlight for the low tilt-eaved farm-house a half-mile farther up the -road, passing on the way the field where poor Major André had paid his -debt and where he now slept in his shallow grave; passing also, a scant -hundred yards from the great chief’s headquarters, the fortress-like -stone house where André had heard his sentence and spent his last night -upon earth. - - - - -II - -A VOICE IN THE NIGHT - - -I FOUND Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton waiting for me in that room -of the De Windt house which served as an outer office in the -commander-in-chief’s suite. It was my first visit to our army’s brain -and nerve center since the execution of Major André, and I saw, in the -posting of double sentries and by the many times I was halted before I -could come to the door of Mr. Hamilton’s room, one of the consequences -of Arnold’s treason. Our general was no longer free to go and come and -be approached as simply as he had been in former times. - -Mr. Hamilton’s greeting was as pleasant as Melton’s had been, though -few ever saw him otherwise than cordial and suave. A slender fine-faced -stripling, with the deep-welled eyes, short upper lip and sensitive -mouth of his French mother, a man but little, if any, older than I, he -had the manner of a true gentleman gently bred, and few as were his -years, he carried a wise head on his shoulders. - -“Good evening, Captain Page. Come in and stretch your legs before -my fire,” he said; “you have the first requisite of a good soldier, -Captain; you come promptly when you are called.” - -At first I thought he was rebuking me gently because I had stopped -to sup with Jack before reporting myself, but a quick glance at his -smiling eyes showed me that I was wrong. Yet without that explanation I -was left in the dark as to his meaning. - -“A soldier’s call is apt to be an order, Mr. Hamilton,” I said, giving -him the lead again. - -“So was yours,” he announced. “But we scarcely looked for you to come -before midnight, ride as you would.” - -“I was sent for?” I asked. - -“Surely; didn’t you know it?” - -“I did not. I left Salem at daybreak, with two days’ leave from Colonel -Baylor.” - -“In that case,” he said reflectively, “you should have met Halkett on -the road, riding with letters to you and to Colonel Baylor.” - -“I did not come by the main road to King’s Ferry. I had agreed to meet -Lieutenant Pettus at Nyack, and----” - -“Ah,” he said, smiling again; “a drinking bout at Van Ditteraick’s in -honor of your birthday, I take it. You are sad roisterers--you Virginia -gentlemen”--a thing he could say and carry off, since he was himself -West-Indian born. - -“It was but a single bottle, I do assure you, Mr. Hamilton,” I -protested; “and such wine as would make one vow never to be caught -under the shadow of a grape-vine again.” - -“Still, you are sad roisterers,” he persisted quietly. “And it was -precisely because you are the saddest of them all, and, besides, the -greatest daredevil in your own or any other troop, that you were sent -for at this particular time, Captain Page.” - -I hope I was not past blushing at the left-handed compliment, -well-meant as it seemed to be. Some few passages there had been in -my captaincy where foolhardy daring had taken the reins after wise -caution had dropped them hopelessly upon the horse’s neck, and the -event on each occasion had had the good luck to prove the wisdom of the -foolishness. But as for being a daredevil--why, well, that is as it may -be, too. The veriest sheep of a man will often fight like the devil -if you can corner him and get him well past caring too much for the -precious bauble called life. - -But I was killing time, and Mr. Hamilton was waiting. - -“Don’t count too greatly upon a roisterer’s courage,” I laughed. “But -what desperate venture does his excellency wish to send me on, Mr. -Hamilton?” - -He held up a slim hand warningly. - -“Softly, Captain Page, softly: the commander-in-chief is not to be at -all named in this. You will take your orders from me--if you take them -from any one; though as to that, there will be no orders. And you have -hit on the proper word when you call the venture ‘desperate.’” - -“You are whetting my curiosity to a razor-edge,” I averred, laughing -again. “By the time you reach the details I shall be ripe for anything.” - -He sat staring at the blazing logs for a long minute before he began -again; not hesitating, as I made sure, but merely arranging the matter -in orderly sequence in his mind. - -“First, let me ask you this, Captain Page,” he began at the end of -the forecasting minute. “You come of a long line of gentlemen, and no -one knows better what is due to a keen sense of honor. How far would -that sense of honor let you go on a road which would lead to Sir Henry -Clinton’s discomfiture and possible overthrow?” - -“There need be little question of honor involved in dealing with Sir -Henry Clinton,” I replied promptly. “When he bought Benedict Arnold -for a price, and sent his own adjutant-general into our lines as a -spy, he set the pace for us. I’d keep faith with any honest enemy, to -the last ditch, Colonel Hamilton; but on the other hand, I’d fight the -devil with fire, most heartily, if need were, and take no hurt to my -conscience.” - -“Then I may go on and tell you where we stand. You know very well, -Captain Page, the ill effects of Arnold’s treason and desertion; how -the infection is spreading in the rank and file.” - -I said that I did know. - -“This infection is like the plague; it must be stamped out at any -cost,” he declared, and the deep-welled eyes flashed angrily. “It is -a double evil, sapping the honor of our army on the one hand, and -bringing us into contempt with the enemy on the other. The remedy must -be a sharp lesson, no less to Sir Henry Clinton than to the traitors. -Do you see any way in which it can be administered, Captain Page?” - -“If you could once lay hands on Benedict Arnold,” I suggested. - -Hamilton nodded slowly. - -“You have put your finger most accurately on the binding strand in the -miserable knot. If the chief traitor could be apprehended and brought -to justice, it would not only stay the epidemic of desertion, it might -also convince Sir Henry that we are not to be treated as rebels beyond -the pale of honest warfare.” - -“Truly,” I agreed. “I wonder it hasn’t been done before this.” - -“It has been tried, Captain Page. Let me tell you a thing that is thus -far known only to our general, to Major Lee and myself. You have heard -of the desertion of a certain sergeant from our army?” - -I bowed, saying that I had and knew the man’s name. - -“This sergeant posed as a deserter only for the better concealment of -his purpose; he went upon this very errand we are speaking of. He is in -New York now, and is not only unable to accomplish his object, but is -in hourly danger of apprehension and death as a spy.” - -“Pardon me, Colonel Hamilton,” I broke in, “but you should not have -sent, as they say, a boy to mill. This man would be helpless if only -for the reason that he comes from the ranks. Arnold was always a -stickler for the state and grandeur of his office; a common soldier -could never get near enough to plot against him.” - -“Again you have touched upon the heart of the matter, Captain Page. -The commander-in-chief suffered the sergeant to go in the first -instance (he volunteered for the enterprise, you understand) because he -was only a sergeant, and it was not thought to be an errand upon which -a commissioned officer could honorably go. But now the affair is all in -confusion. The enterprise promises to fail, and our man may easily lose -his life on the gallows.” - -I rose to terminate the interview. - -“Are there any special instructions for me, Colonel Hamilton?” I asked. - -The general’s aide laughed like a pleased child and bade me sit down -again. - -“What a hot-headed firebrand you are, to be sure, Captain!” he said -warmly. “I was certain you would not fail us. Have you no curiosity to -learn how the choice fell upon you?” - -“None whatever,” I replied. “I’m vastly fonder of action than of the -whys and wherefores.” - -“Then I need only say that you have me to thank for the choice. When -it was decided to seek for a stronger head than the sergeant’s seems -to be, the choice of the man was left to me, and it was agreed that no -one else should know. So this is strictly between us two, as it should -be. Colonel Baylor merely knows that you have been detailed for special -duty.” - -“Good,” I commented. It was best so. By this means I should stand or -fall quite alone, as the leader of a forlorn hope should be willing to -do. - -“As for your instructions, there can be none at all. Our information -from the sergeant is most meager; and if it were not, we should not -hamper you. Haste and success are your two watchwords. Have you money?” - -I had. The Page tobacco of the year before had escaped the clumsy -British blockade, and when we Pages sell our tobacco, we lack for -nothing in reason. - -“That is a comfort,” he smiled. “Our sergeant begged for five -guineas in one of his letters, and I promise you we had to scratch -painstakingly before we found them. Now for your plan: have you any?” - -“The first move is simple enough,” I rejoined. “I shall desert, as -the sergeant did, and throw myself into the arms of the enemy. After -that--well, sufficient unto the moment will be the evil thereof. I must -be guided wholly by conditions as I find them.” - -“So you must. And for your communications with me, you may use the same -channel the sergeant is using--a Mr. Baldwin, of Newark, who will carry -your letters. How will you reach New York?” - -I thought a moment upon it. - -“The river is the quicker. I have a boat at Nyack; the one in which I -pulled from Teller’s Point to-day.” - -There was a little pause after this, and I saw that my companion was -staring thoughtfully into the fire. - -“We have been going at too fast a gallop, Captain Page,” he said at -the end of the pause. “We must go back a moment to that point that was -raised in the beginning. If you could go with your troop at your back -and cut the traitor out and bring him home that would be one thing--and -I know of no man fitter to attempt it. But to go as you must go, and -use guile and subterfuge ... truly, Captain Page, you must sort this -out for yourself; to determine how far in such a cause an officer and a -man of honor may go. I lay no commands upon you.” - -I put the scruple aside impatiently. - -“Benedict Arnold has put himself beyond the pale, Colonel Hamilton. -There can be no question of honor in dealing with such as he.” - -“Perhaps not,” was the low-toned reply; “though that word of yours is -most sweeping and far-reaching. I mean only to leave you free, Captain -Page. Our desires, keen as they are, shall not run farther than your -own convictions of an honorable man’s duty.” Then he looked at his -watch. “The tide serves at eleven, and you have the borrowed horse to -return to Nyack. It is best so, since in that way you will seem to be -returning to your troop at Salem.” - -His mention of the borrowed horse first set me to wondering how he came -to know that I had borrowed a horse; but a moment later the wonder went -out in a blaze of sudden recollection. As I am a living man, up to that -instant I had clean forgotten that I was pledged to meet Captain Howard -Seytoun at dawn-breaking in the grass cove at the river’s edge! - -I was on my feet and breathing hard when I broke out hotly: “Good -heavens, Colonel Hamilton! I can not go to-night; it is impossible! A -thing I had forgotten----” - -He rose in his turn and faced me smiling. - -“Tell me where she lives, Captain Page,” he said slyly, “and I’ll -promise to go in person to make your excuses. Nay, no cunningly devised -fables, sir, if you please; it is always a woman who hangs to our -coat-skirts at the plunging moment. But seriously,” and now his face -was grave, “there should not be an hour’s delay. Not to mention our -sergeant’s safety, which seems to be hanging in a most precarious -balance, there is a sharp chance of your missing the target entirely. -Word has come that Arnold is embodying, or has embodied, a regiment -with which he may take the field at any moment. No, you must go -to-night, if you go at all.” - -“But you were not expecting me here from Colonel Baylor’s camp until -midnight,” I protested, trying to gain time for the shaping of some -excuse that would hide the truth and still seem something less than -childish. - -“For the anticipating of which expectation by some hours, we are -discussing this matter here in comfort before my fire, instead of on -horseback and on the southward road, Captain Page. I had planned to -ride with you to our outposts, enlisting you as we went.” - -“Yet--good lord, Mr. Hamilton! if I could tell you--if I only dared -tell you what it will cost me to go to-night....” - -He spread his slender hands in a most gentlemanly way. - -“I have laid no commands upon you for the services, Captain Page; as I -have said, your going rests entirely with yourself. Nor must you think -I am trying to bribe you when I point out that the man who carries -the enterprise through will have earned much at the hands of his -country and of the army. It is for you to decide whether this obstacle -of yours is great enough to weigh against the arguments for instant -despatch--remembering that these arguments may well include the life of -the worthy soldier who has piloted out the way for you.” - -It has always been my failing to omit to count the personal cost of -anything until the day of reckoning rises up to slap me in the face. - -“I’ll go--to-night,” I said grittingly. “But if I could leave an -explanatory word with Pettus----” - -Again he stopped me in mid-career with a hand laid affectionately on my -shoulder. - -“You would cancel my permission with your own sober second thought, my -dear Captain. That second thought will tell you that there must be no -hint, no word or whisper that could remotely point toward your purpose. -Further, you must go back to Pettus, smooth over as best you can your -visit to me here, and lull his curiosity, if he have any. Then, if you -can not tell him point-blank the lie about your returning northward -to-night, wait until he is asleep, and make your escape as you can.” - -We went somewhat beyond this, but not far; Hamilton telling me of his -sergeant’s present besetment, and of how all his plans had come to -naught. When I had it all he went with me to the door and I was out of -the ante-room when he took leave of me and bade me God-speed; out under -the stars and with only the half-mile walk between me and Jack Pettus -for the cooking up of all these raw conditions thus thrust masterfully -upon me. I saw well enough what I must face; how, when I should turn up -missing, Seytoun would lose no time and spare no pains in black-listing -me from one end of the army to the other. Yet if I could go quickly and -return alive, dragging our Judas with me as the result of the endeavor -... well, then Seytoun would still say that I had deliberately provoked -a quarrel which I knew I could not carry out to the gentlemanly -conclusion. - -It was the cursedest dilemma, no matter how I twisted and turned it -about. And to cap the pyramid of misery, there was a lurking fear that -Mistress Beatrix Leigh might come to hear some garbled misversion of -it, even in far-away Virginia, and would not know or guess the truth. -Up to the very present moment, Seytoun owed his immunity solely to -her, or rather to a promise I had made her the year before when I -came out of the home militia to join Colonel Baylor’s new levies. -When she should know the provocation, she might generously forgive -the duel, though she had exacted the promise that I would not fight -him; but would any explanation ever suffice to gloze over the fact -that I had struck the man, and afterward had run away to escape -the consequences?--for this is how the story would shape itself in -Seytoun’s telling of it. - -I saw no loophole of escape, no light on the dark horizon, save at one -uncertain point. Seytoun was brave enough on the battle-field; all men -said that for him. Yet he was a truculent bully, and bullies are often -weak-kneed where the colder kind of courage is required. What if he had -pocketed my affront?--had failed to send his friend to Jack Pettus? - -The slender chance of such a happy outcome sent me on the faster toward -the legion cantonments; and when I saw the scattering of tents and log -shelters looming in the starlight I fell to running. - -Pettus was waiting for me when I kicked open the door of the low-roofed -shelter and entered, and it was my good genius that prompted me to sit -by the fire and ask for a pipe and a crumbling of Jack’s tobacco, and -otherwise to mask the fierce desire I had to put my fate immediately to -the touch. For my Jack was as quick-witted as a woman, and I remembered -in good time that I had to deceive him. So my first word was not of -Seytoun, or of the quarrel, but of Colonel Alexander Hamilton and the -despatches I had been supposed to bring from my colonel. - -“Curious how a rumor breeds out of nothing,” I commented, when we were -comfortably befogged in the tobacco smoke. “Melton seemed to be sure -that I must be the bearer of despatches; and Colonel Hamilton accused -me of having ridden over from Nyack on a borrowed horse.” - -“The which you did, despatches or no despatches,” laughed Pettus. “But -how did you get on with Mr. Hamilton?” - -“As one gentleman should when he meets another for a joint -shin-toasting before a blazing fire of logs. We chatted amicably, after -Mr. Hamilton learned that I brought no word from Colonel Baylor; and -when I could break off decently I came away.” - -After this silence came and dwelt with us for a while, and when the -fierce desire could be no longer suppressed I said, as indifferently as -I could: “You have news for me, Jack?” - -“If you call that news which we were both expecting--yes. Lieutenant -Cardrigg has been here, in Captain Seytoun’s behalf.” - -My gasp of disappointment slipped out--or in--before I could prevent -it, and it did not go unremarked by Pettus. - -“What’s that, Dick? You sigh like the furnace of affliction itself. -Twice, already, you have changed your mind about this little riffle -with Seytoun. It is far too late to change it again. I warn you as a -friend.” - -“Truly, it is indeed far too late,” I echoed, agreeing parrot-wise. -Then: “You arranged the business as we talked?----to-morrow morning, in -the grass cove at the mouth of the creek?” - -“How else would I arrange it?” said Pettus querulously. “You were as -precise in your instructions as any girl prinking herself for a rout.” - -“It is well to be precise,” I offered half absently. The worst had -befallen now, and my brain was busy with the shameful consequences -which must ensue. - -“Cardrigg haggled a little over the trooper’s swords,” Pettus went -on reflectively, after a moment. “He is a chip of the same upstart -block out of which our red-faced captain was hewn. He said you might -have chosen rapiers, if only out of consideration for the captain’s -standing; meaning to imply thereby that the captain, at least, was a -gentleman, and should be allowed to fight with a gentleman’s weapon.” - -“You yielded him the point?” I questioned, trying to show an interest -which I could not feel. - -“Not I, damn him. I gave him to understand flatly that we stood upon -our rights, and that the trooper’s sword was good enough for his -principal--or for him and me, if it came to that.” - -“It is a small matter,” I said, thinking bitterly that Pettus could -not vaguely guess how small a matter this dispute over the weapons -had suddenly become. Then I saw how I might perhaps fend off the last -and worst of the consequences of the morrow’s revealments; but it was -necessary first to pave the way cautiously and carefully. - -“The captain is a good swordsman, whatever else may be said of him,” I -began after another interval of silence. “It may easily happen that the -man who fights with him will cross a wider river than this Hudson of -ours, Jack.” - -“Bah!” Pettus spat the word out contemptuously. Then he added the -friendly smiting, as I expected he would. “Don’t try to make me see you -in any other light than that of a true man, Dick.” - -“I would not willingly do that, Jack, believe me. But there are always -chances, and the wise man, though he were the bravest that ever drew -steel out of leather, will provide against them. If I should not come -off from this night’s--from to-morrow morning’s work with a tongue to -speak for itself, will you carry a word for me?” - -“Surely I will. But to whom?” - -“To Beatrix Leigh. Tell her she must go down to her grave believing -that I was no craven. Tell her----” - -“I’m listening,” said Pettus, when the pause had grown to an impossible -length. - -My lips were dry, and I moistened them and swallowed hard. After all, -what word was there that I could send to the woman I loved without -taking the risk of betraying my trust as an officer and the confidant -of Mr. Hamilton? - -“It isn’t worth the trouble,” I went on, when the hopelessness of it -became plain. “She will understand without my message; or she will -refuse to understand with it.” - -Jack laughed boisterously. “I’m no good at conundrums, Dick. I’ll tell -her the captain challenged you for brushing a fly from his face. Will -that do?” - -I smiled in spite of my misery. There would be nothing to tell Beatrix -Leigh or any one else about the meeting which was already impossible -for one of the combatants. - -“Let it go, Jack, and pinch the candle out. Didn’t you hear the -drum-roll? We’ll have the patrol in upon us presently. Do you turn in, -and catch your few hours of beauty sleep. It’s one of my notions to -sit alone before the fire on my birthday night, casting up the year’s -accounts. You’ll indulge me, won’t you?” - -Jack did it, grumbling a little at what he was pleased to call my -churlishness. It was weary work killing the time till he should be -safely asleep. I was young, vigorous, and for all my youth, somewhat -of a seasoned veteran, but that lonely hour or more spent before Jack -Pettus’s fire went nearer to sapping my determination than any former -trial I could recall. - -I might have made my exit sooner, I suppose. Though he tossed -restlessly in his bunk, Jack was asleep before I had filled my second -pipe. But there was no object in my reaching Nyack before tide-turning, -and I stayed on, dreading the moment which would set the wheels fairly -a-grind on my hazard of new fortunes. - -It was the hour of guard-changing when I rose noiselessly, struggled -into my watchcoat, slung my sword around my neck so that it should not -drag and waken Jack, and cautiously secured the little portmanteau -which held all the impedimenta I had brought with me from the camp at -Salem. - -I was carefully inching the door ajar to let me out when Pettus stirred -afresh and threw his arms about, muttering in his sleep. I waited till -he should be quiet again, and while I stood and held the door, the -mutterings took on something like coherence. - -“I say you shall drink it! Up, man, up! Now, then; here’s to the -loyalty of the Old Dominion, and may the next Virginian who smirches -it----” - -I whipped through the half-closed door and closed it behind me, softly. -It was sobering enough to do what I had to do, without staying to -listen to such a word of leave-taking from the dearest friend I owned. - -I found the borrowed horse where I had left him at the hitching-rope, -and had the saddle on, and the portmanteau strapped to the cantle, when -Middleton came up with the guard relief. - -“Ho, Captain Page!” he chuckled, when the patrol had thrown the lantern -light into my face, “I thought I had caught another deserter in the -very act. Has your leave expired so soon?” - -I forced a laugh and said it had, more was the pity. And then he asked -how I expected to get across the river at that hour; whereupon I told -him a part of the truth, saying that I should ride back to Nyack, and -from there take the small boat in which I had drifted and rowed down -from Teller’s Point. - -At this he had the saddle flung upon his own beast, and mounted and -rode with me to put me past the sentries on the Nyack road; and now I -was enough recovered to grin under cover of the darkness and to picture -his rage and astonishment when, within a day or so, he should learn -that he had been setting another deserter safely on his way to the -British lines. For I made no doubt that the camp, and all the others in -the Highlands, would presently be ringing with the news that a captain -of Baylor’s Horse had been the latest to go over to the enemy--as, -indeed, I hoped they would, since my best guaranty of safety in New -York would be in the hue and cry I might leave behind me. - -Lieutenant Middleton bade me God-speed at a turn in the road about -a mile from his cantonments, and from this on to Nyack I pushed the -borrowed nag smartly. At Van Ditteraick’s stable there was only a -sleepy horse-boy to rouse up and meet me, and when I had paid the -horse’s hire, I made him go with me to the waterside to help me embark, -so there might be a witness of the way I went and the manner of my -going. - -It was the boy himself who pushed me off and saw me lay the boat’s head -up the river. And, sleepy as he was, he had wit enough to mumble in -broken Dutch that the dunderhead captain had taken the wrong turn of -the tide for a pull up the stream. - -I headed upward and currentward only until I had made sure that my -small boat could not be seen from the western shore. Then I turned the -boat’s bow down-stream and pulled lustily for half an hour to warm me, -for the gray and cloudy day had cleared into a night of bitter cold. - -It was near midnight, as I judged, when I made out by the configuration -of the shore lines my passing from the great lake of the Tappan Zee -to the narrower channel of the river proper. Here, where King’s Ferry -crossed from bank to bank, lay my greatest chance of danger; and taking -the mid-channel for it, I unshipped the oars and let the boat drift as -it would in the tideway. So floating, when I was well past the line of -the ferry, past all hazard of being discovered by one of our patrol -boats, as I imagined, I ventured to step the mast and to hoist the -little leg-of-mutton sail with which the boat was provided. The showing -of the small triangle of white cloth was my undoing. The little craft -had scarcely felt the wind-pull, when a dark shape shot swiftly out -from the shadow of the western shore and a voice came bellowing at me -across the water. - -“Ahoy, there! Spill your wind and come to, or we’ll fire upon you!” - -My answer was to ship the oars as silently as possible, and to settle -down to the long lifting stroke old Uncle Quagga, our black boatman, -had taught me on the quiet waters of the James River in the peaceful -days before the war began. It promised to be a hopeless flight, with -only my two arms against a dozen; but what disquieted me most was the -stentorian voice that came booming once again across the gap, cursing -me and commanding me to heave to. For the yell was Seytoun’s; and now -I remembered that Jack had told me something about Seytoun’s being on -boat duty for the middle watch of the night. - - - - -III - -IN WHICH I SHED MY RANK - - -IT IS little less than marvelous how the mind’s eye sweeps all the -horizons instantly at the apexing point of a crisis. Seytoun’s -cursing hail, the sheering cut-water hiss of the well-manned boat as -it drove out to head me off, the panic helplessness of my attempt to -escape--none of these was distracting enough to cloud the picture of -the frightful consequences which would follow my overtaking. - -Mr. Hamilton might save me from a deserter’s death; I supposed he would -find means to do that much, though all the army would be clamoring for -vengeance on me. But every other humiliation the wrath of man could -devise would be mine; and in all the mad hurry of the moment one grim -determination stood apart in my brain and held itself in readiness to -act. I would never be taken alive. If the bullets which would presently -begin to spit from the muskets in the watchboat should not put me out -of misery, I could at least go overboard with the skiff’s anchor stone -to hold me under for the necessary choking time. - -The bullets came quickly enough, a ragged fire of them buzzing high -overhead to emphasize Seytoun’s second warning. If the marksmen in -the watchboat had been my men, I thought I should have a word to say -to them about holding well down on a target when powder and lead were -worth their weight in gold--as they were with us in that winter of -1780. They wasted a dozen shots on me, I think, before a long drum-roll -boomed across the water to tell me that now the camp was aroused and -more boats would be coming. - -That was only an incident, however. My business was to put my heart and -soul into the oars and to keep the narrow gap between me and Seytoun’s -boat from closing any more swiftly than it had to. It was closing -certainly enough, and by leaping boat-lengths, when my straining ears -caught the sound of other oars rolling in muffled row-locks, and a -guarded hail came from somewhere in the darkness just ahead of me. -I dared not turn around to try to descry the fresh peril. Seytoun’s -marksmen were doing better now, and coincident with the low-toned -hail ahead a bullet struck the stern of my shallop and neatly stuck a -splinter in the calf of my leg. - -Another volley from the guardboat would have settled matters, but the -volley was never fired--at me. At the flint-snapping crisis my boat’s -bow crashed in among banked oars, dark shapes loomed suddenly all -around me, and a gruff voice shouted, “Avast there, you lubber! Heave -to, or we’ll sink you!” - -I needed no command to stop me. The collision with the banked oars, -and a dozen hands gripping the gunwales of my shallop, did that for -me. What I most needed was the discretion to throw myself flat in the -bottom of my boat to escape the storm of lead that was promptly hurled -at my pursuers--and that I had, too. - -When it was all over, and Seytoun’s boat had turned tail to claw out -of harm’s way in frantic haste, I learned to what I owed my opportune -deliverance. I had pulled straight into the midst of a British boat -expedition (one of the many since Admiral Sir George Rodney had come -to Sir Henry Clinton’s aid), sent up from New York to take a chance -of surprising some one of our outpost camps. I was rejoicing secretly -that my ill-luck had killed the chance of such a surprise, when I was -brought roughly to book by the officer in command of the expedition. - -“Now, sir, who the devil are you, and what are you doing here?” were -his shot-like questions, when my craft had been passed back to the -long-boat which served as the flag-ship of the flotilla. - -I gave my name and standing briefly, and was adding a hypocritical word -of thanks for my rescue when he cut me off abruptly. - -“A deserter, eh?” he rasped. “It’s a thousand pities we didn’t let them -take you. An officer, too, you say? Then the pities are ten thousand. I -would to God some of your fellows in that boat had shot straighter!” - -His sentiments were so soldierly and worthy that I loved him for them, -and was able to pull the splinter from my leg and laugh. - -“You don’t follow your commander-in-chief’s lines very closely, sir,” -I ventured. “We gentlemen who are sick of our bargain with General -Washington and the Congress get a warmer welcome from Sir Henry Clinton -than you are giving me. But there are deserters and deserters; some who -are traitors in fact, and some who are merely coming to a better sense -of their duty as they see it. My conscience is clear, sir.” - -I hoped he would not suspect the double meaning in my answer; as, -indeed, he did not. As well as I could make him out in the darkness, he -was a bluff, hearty bully of a man; a sea officer, I took it. - -“We’ll take you back with us, since that is what you want,” he rejoined -crustily; adding: “And I’d hang you to a yard-arm when we get there, -Captain Page--as Sir Henry Clinton doubtless will not. To the rear -with you, and consider yourself a prisoner. Pass the captive astern, -Bannock, and take the oars out of his boat,”--this last to the ensign -in command of the long-boat. - -The effect of this order was to turn me adrift without any means of -locomotion, and my shallop dropped away from the flotilla on the slowly -ebbing tide until the British boats became a shadowy blur in the night. -There was some huddling of them for a hasty council of war, I judged, -and if so, an order to retreat was all that came of it. With our forces -on either side of the river aroused and alert, as the firing would -ensure, there was little else to be done. - -My masterless craft had drifted a mile or more when the boat expedition -overtook me. With no more ado my boat was taken in tow, and I chuckled -inwardly. I love a boat and the water as I love a good horse; but it -is worth something to have your enemy drag you where you expected to -drag yourself, and when the shadows of the great western cliffs were -blackening thick upon the waters, I kicked the rowing seat out of the -way, and stretched myself at ease in the shallop’s bottom to get a -soldier’s nap before the sun should rise upon my further adventures. - -The day was dawning coldly when I awoke and found that my rescuers--or -my captors--were debarking at the town landing-place under the guns -of Fort George. It was a raw morning, my leg was stiff and sore from -the splinter wound, and the ensign who ordered me to tumble out had -evidently taken his cue from his gruff commander and cursed me heartily -because I did not move as quickly as he thought I should. - -It is remarkable how the morning after takes the fine edge off the -enthusiasm and daring of the night before. When I set foot upon the -landing-stage and remembered all that I had undertaken to do in -this British stronghold of New York, remembered, also, how at this -very moment, most likely, Jack and Seytoun, and--save Mr. Hamilton -alone--every friend and enemy I had left behind me in the camp at -Tappan was cursing the very day of my birth, my teeth chattered with -the morning’s cold, and I would have given many broad acres of the -Page tobacco lands to be well out of the wretched tangle into which my -desperate mission had led me. - -My first near-hand view of the lower town, obtained after I had been -turned over to one of Sir Henry Clinton’s aides--who was my host or -guard, I could not tell which--brought a decided shock. My memories of -the city, carried over from a visit made with my uncle Nelson when I -was a hobbledehoy of sixteen, were rudely swept away. The great fire -of the night of September 20th, 1776, just after the British General -Robertson had driven our army back upon Harlem Heights, had made a ruin -of what had been the best-built portion of the lower town. Starting -near Whitehall Slip, it had left blackened ruins all the way across -to the Bowling Green and for some distance up on both sides of Broad -Way, and but little in the way of rebuilding had been done during the -four years of British occupation. Instead, some of the ruins had been -converted into makeshift dwelling places by using the chimneys and -parts of the walls that were still standing, eked out with spars from -the ships and old canvas for shelter. - -It was a dreary prospect that was revealed as we, my guard-host and I, -came around the western bastion of the fort and so into the lower end -of Broad Way. The fire had spared some few houses on the left, and in -one of these, so Mr. Hamilton had told me, Arnold had his headquarters -and living-rooms. It was to an inn just beyond these houses, and on the -edge of the ruined district, that my walking companion led me; and by -the time we were inside and were breaking our fast in the blaze-warmed -coffee-room, the hue of things had become less somber, and I could -laugh and crack a joke with my entertainer much as if he had been Jack -Pettus masquerading in a red coat. - -“You do good justice to the commissary, Captain Page,” said my youth in -the red coat, when I had begged his leave to order more of the ham and -eggs that reminded me most gratefully of Virginia and home. - -“If you could know how I have been starved, Mr. Castner,” I retorted. -“All you have to do for us--for the rebels, I mean--is to hold them -still for a few months longer, and hunger will do for them what your -arms have somehow seemed unable to do.” - -“Is it that bad, Mr. Page?” he asked. - -“Worse than I can describe, I do assure you. I doubt not we of the -turncoat legion assign all sorts of reasons for our forsaking of the -cause, but I am telling you the bald truth--as I shall tell Sir Henry. -We are hungry, and an empty stomach knows neither king nor Congress.” - -But my young lieutenant laughed in a most friendly way and shook his -head at this. - -“You are carrying it off as a brave man should, Mr. Page, and making a -jest of it. But you are like a good many of the others; a true Loyalist -at heart, with only the eleventh-hour determination to turn your back -upon whatever influences swung you first in the wrong direction. -Confess, now; are there not many others in the same case, and lacking -only the eleventh-hour courage to come over?” - -I said there were, doubtless--and hoped most fervently that it was the -lie I firmly believed it to be. Then, after I had answered freely all -his questions about our camp at Tappan--with more and more ingenious -lies, you may be sure--I ventured upon the ground of my own perilous -debate. - -“There have been rumors in the Highlands of Mr. Arnold’s raising of a -regiment of his own here in New York. Is that so, Mr. Castner?” I asked -guardedly. - -The lieutenant nodded, and there was a graver look in his eyes when he -asked, in turn, “Do you know Mr. Arnold, Captain Page?” - -“I haven’t that honor, as yet,” I replied. “My short service in the -Continental Line has been in the horse; and he, as you know, has been -lately in garrison at West Point.” - -He bowed thoughtfully. “A strange man, Mr. Page; and growing stranger -to all of us, I think, as the days pass. He has not come over to us for -any overmastering love of the king or the king’s cause, I fear.” - -“No?” said I. - -“It is little likely. If I read him aright, he is burned and seared -through and through with his own ambition.” - -It was no part of my plan to be drawn into open criticism of the man I -was shortly to approach in the character of an outspoken fellow traitor. - -“We must not judge too hastily, Mr. Castner,” I put in placably. -“Arnold was greatly respected by his former subordinates, and, truly, -he did many things to win their regard, I am told. But that is neither -here nor there: this legion he is enrolling--is it horse or foot?” - -“Foot. It is called the ‘Loyal American,’ and is pretty largely -composed of--of men who, like yourself, Mr. Page, have changed flags.” - -“Are the lists full?” was my next query. - -The lieutenant smiled. - -“Would you take service under your country’s bitterest enemy, Captain -Page?” - -I laughed. - -“Beggars mustn’t be choosers. And as for my country’s enemies; my -country is the king’s, or at least, he says it is, though you must -confess, Mr. Castner, that the standing-places where a Loyalist may -hear the whipping of the royal standard above his head have become -sadly few and restricted.” - -Once again the lieutenant was shaking his head in mild deprecation. - -“You must teach your tongue a better trade, Captain Page,” he said -quite good-naturedly. “There are those in this town who would find -fault with that last speech of yours.” - -I saw at once, what I should have seen at the outset; that this -frank-faced lieutenant was not one to be played with in double-meaning -rashnesses. So I went back to Arnold and his “American Loyalists,” or -“Loyal Americans,” or whatever lying phrase it was that headed his -regimental book. - -“You have not told me yet of Mr. Arnold’s conscript lists,” I reminded -him. - -“Nor do I know,” he replied, and was going on to say more when a tall, -harsh-visaged fellow, wearing the insignia of a recruiting sergeant, -looked in at the door, swept the apartment with a shrewd glance, as if -in search of material for his trade of whipper-in, and was turning away -when the lieutenant marked him and said to me: “There is a man who can -tell you more than I can.” And then to the soldier: “Hey, Sergeant, a -word with you!” - -It was not until the man stood at our table-end and was near enough to -shock me heartily that I recognized him as Major Lee’s emissary, John -Champe; the man I had come to drag out of the peril he had blundered -into. - -Lieutenant Castner smiled at my start of surprise, and he was further -edified, I suppose, by Champe’s drawing back with a muttered oath at -his recognition of me. There was humor in the situation, but I was in -no frame of mind to appreciate it just then. - -It was Champe who first broke the awkward little silence. “You called -me, sir?” he asked, saluting Castner, and turning his back on me. - -I shall never forget how the young redcoat lieutenant played the -gentleman at this crisis. Had there been a trace of malice in his heart -he might have flung us two flag-changers at each other’s throats and -stood aside to see the sport. Instead, he replied to Champe, quite -gravely. - -“Yes; your lists for the Loyal Americans--are they filling well, -Sergeant?” - -“They are closed,” said Champe, with his dour face as expressionless as -a slab of wood. - -“Ah,” said Castner; and then, with a hand-wave of dismissal for the -sergeant, which Champe obeyed instantly: “That answers your question, -Captain Page. I hope it does not seriously change your plans.” - -I assured him that it did not; telling him that I had no plan beyond -seeking an audience with Sir Henry Clinton at the earliest possible -hour. - -“Then your inclination matches with the necessities,” laughed my -jailor. “I should be obliged to put you under guard, conveying you to -Sir Henry forcibly, if you were not minded to go of your own accord.” - -My heart beat a little less steadily at this. Was it possible -that Mr. Hamilton’s plot had leaked so swiftly?--that word of my -coming, or of my planned-for coming, had already reached the British -commander-in-chief? It was a soul-destroying thought, but Castner’s -next word relieved me. - -“It is a general order,” he explained. “Sir Henry wishes to see each of -you gentlemen--our friends from the other side, you know--as soon as -may be after your arrival. If you have finished your breakfast we may -as well go at once. I don’t know how your late staff headquarters keeps -its hours, but our Sir Henry is an early riser.” - -There was no reason on my part for delay, and every reason for haste -without the appearance of haste. So I made ready to go with the -lieutenant, and we presently fared forth into the crisp December -morning and took our way to the row of Dutch-fashioned houses with -their sides to the street and facing the Green, the row lying a little -to the right of Fort George as you face the harbor. - -Before one of the houses a sentry stood on guard, and with a stiff -presenting of his duty salute to my officer, the man passed us up the -steps. - -Castner put me into the audience chamber of the man who stood, for -us of the patriotic side, as the embodiment of British duplicity and -tyranny, without a word to me by way of preparation; and in introducing -me I thought there was a twinkle of grim humor in his grave boyish eyes. - -“Sir Henry, I have the honor of presenting to you Mr. Richard Page, -late Captain Richard Page, of Baylor’s Horse, in Mr. Washington’s army, -and the newest of our new friends.” - -His handicapping of me in these few words of introduction was most -embarrassing--as perhaps it was meant to be--and for the moment I could -only stare at the great man sitting calmly behind his writing-table, -which, as I remember, was well littered with papers. - -At first sight the British commander was disappointing. He was short, -fat and stodgy, with the heavy face of a good feeder, and his nose -was aggressively prominent. His eyes, as I saw them, were cold and -calculating, and I could never fancy them lighting with enthusiasm or -mellowing into anything like good-fellowship. And, indeed, it was told -me afterward that he was a man to take his pleasures stolidly, warming -neither to wine nor women. Washington, Greene, Hamilton, Lee--all of -our leaders, were soldiers and they looked it. But this broad-girthed -little man with the great nose and the chilling eyes was a soldier and -he did not look it. - -To my relief, the interview was short, and to my still greater relief -it was not made harder for me by the lieutenant’s presence, that -gentleman having disappeared after presenting me. Naturally, Sir Henry -wanted news of Washington’s army, his dispositions, his plans and -intentions; and having by this time come to my own in my heritage of -the Page impudence, I lied to him as freely and joyously as I had to -Castner, taking care only to make the lies dovetail neatly with what I -had told the lieutenant over the inn breakfast-table. - -But my cross-examiner saved his shrewdest question for the last, as if -he had been a lawyer. - -“Now, for yourself, Mr. Page,” he said finally, fixing me with that -cold stare that seemed to read my inmost thoughts. “What brought you -here?” - -This was a harder thing to lie out of than any of the others. My -family, and my own record, for that matter, were too well known to let -me dish him up some plausible story of how we were all merely waiting -the chance to come over to the king’s side. I must invent some personal -grievance, and with those chilling eyes upon me it was a task to make -the blood thicken in my veins--at a time when it should have been -galloping most freely. - -It was at this point that I had an inspiration. There is no lie -so compelling as the truth, when the truth can be made to serve -the purpose of a lie. I had heard that Sir Henry frowned like a -straight-laced Puritan upon dueling; that he put it under the ban for -his own officers, punishing for it as he would for any other infraction -of orders. - -My resolve was taken on the spur of the moment. - -“Aside from one other cause, which was great enough in itself to make -me wish to change flags, I ran away from a duel,” I told him, returning -the stare as hardily as I dared. - -“How is that, sir?” he demanded, a shade less coldly. - -At that I gave him the story of the quarrel with Seytoun, coloring it -only so much as to make it appear that dueling was the accepted code in -our army, and that the entire ostracising pressure of my late fellow -officers had been put upon me to drive me into a corner from which -there was no escape save in the course I had taken. - -“You have conscientious scruples, Mr. Page?” he asked, after what -seemed an interminable weighing and balancing of my tale. - -“You may call them so, if you wish, Sir Henry,” I replied gravely. “I -have no desire to kill or to be killed in such a cause. And since, if I -had stayed, I should certainly have had to fight this Captain Seytoun, -I put this with the other, and possibly better, reason, and crossed the -lines.” - -“And that other reason?” he questioned shrewdly. “Speak plainly, -Mr. Page. You stand upon the dividing line between some honorable -occupation with us on one hand, and the prison hulks on the other.” - -I saw that my excuse was not big enough, and tremblingly tore another -page out of the book of truth. - -“I am ashamed to tell you of the other reason, Sir Henry,” I demurred, -with as near the proper shade of wounded self-esteem as I could -simulate. “It touches me very nearly, and in a tender spot. You know, -without my telling of it, how we Pages, my father’s family, have given -everything to the cause which is even now tipping in the balance of -defeat?” - -“I do know it,” he replied, somewhat grimly I thought. - -“With that in view, Sir Henry, imagine my feelings as a gentleman and -an officer when proposals were made to me involving a complete and -entire surrender of all that a man of honor may be supposed to hold -most dear. Do you wonder, sir, that I have thrown myself into the arms -of a generous and high-minded enemy?” - -“Ha!” said he, relaxing the hold of the freezing stare for the first -time in the interview. “They wished you to turn spy, did they? Mr. -Page, I thoroughly applaud your courage and resolution, as well as your -frankness in telling me this. Not many men in your situation would -have dared to do it. But I have long suspected Mr. Washington and -his advisers on this score. It is the least honorable part of their -stubborn resistance to their king.” - -I should have laughed outright if I had had liberty. This from the -man, mind you, who had corresponded secretly for months with Benedict -Arnold, bribing, suborning and finally protecting the traitor; the -man who had sent the brave Major André, his own adjutant-general, into -our lines, if not as a spy, at least as a go-between to treat with our -Judas of West Point! - -“As you say, Sir Henry, it is the least honorable part of warfare,” I -agreed mildly, fearful now lest, my case being safely made, I should -say too much. - -But Sir Henry would not let it rest at that. - -“It is greatly to your credit that you were courageous enough to -refuse, Mr. Page,” he went on, taking, as I meant he should, my refusal -for granted. And then, as if upon a premeditated thought: “Are you -acquainted with Mr. Arnold?” - -I said I was not; that my arm of the service, the horse, had never -chanced to be under his command. - -The commander-in-chief found a pen and quickly wrote me a note. - -“Take that to Mr. Arnold,” he said almost graciously. “He lodges -next door, and his hour is nine o’clock.” And, as I was bowing -myself out: “Stay, Mr. Page; shall I give you an introduction to the -pay-master?--for present necessities?” - -I understood this to be an offer to pay, not for my allegiance, but -for the information he had--or thought he had--of me, and I declined -as delicately as I could, saying that a soldier’s wants were few, and -that I had taken the precaution to provide for myself out of my private -funds. This seemed to please him still more, and, on the whole, the Sir -Henry Clinton who bade me an affable “Good morning” was greatly less -alarming and formidable than had been the one who had gripped me so -chillingly in his stony stare while Lieutenant Castner was presenting -me. - -Castner was waiting for me in the ante-room, as I found, but this time -only to pass me beyond the sentry at the door. The fact that I was -allowed to depart unhindered seemed to be a sufficient guaranty that -I had satisfied his chief; but I owe it to the young aide to say that -his manner to me now was neither more nor less cordial than it had been -over the ham and eggs in our breakfast tavern. - -Having thus crossed my Rubicon, and, as one may say, burned my boats -behind me, the next thing was to find Champe and to put that ferocious -patriot on a proper footing with me. But first I had to get rid of my -uniform as a captain of Baylor’s Horse, and here Castner served me -again, quite willingly, going with me to a shop north of the burned -region and knocking the sleepy proprietor out of his morning nap to -wait on me. - -Though I had said that I did not know Arnold personally, I knew enough -of him and of his foppish taste in dress to make me drive a gentleman’s -bargain with the shop-keeper; and when I was arrayed like the lilies of -the field in such ready-made finery as I could purchase, Castner looked -me up and down approvingly, and swore it was a pity I had ever forsaken -my proper garmenting to don the coarse homespun which we officers of -Baylor’s Horse made it a point of honor to wear. - -By the time my bargaining was done, it was too late to go in search of -Champe if I were to take Sir Henry Clinton’s nine o’clock hint pointing -to Arnold. So, rather against my better judgment, I faced southward -with Castner again, giving our Judas the preference over the worthy -sergeant-major--a mistake which was to carry heavier consequences than -I ever dreamed could cluster upon so small a pin-point. - - - - -IV - -HOW MY RANK WAS REGAINED - - -NOTWITHSTANDING Sir Henry Clinton’s voucher for Benedict Arnold’s -receiving hour, we found the man, Castner and I, on his door-step and -apparently just going out, as we came up. - -I expected Castner to introduce me at least, but here I had my first -hint of Arnold’s standing, or rather his lack of standing, with the -British officers, which was pointed by the lieutenant striding on with -his head in the air, and leaving me abruptly to my own devices. - -Since boldness was the only word I knew, or could know, in all this -business, I ran up the steps, struck my hat to the man I hoped to see -well hanged, and gave him General Clinton’s note. While he was reading -the scrawl--the British knight wrote a most fearful and wonderful -hand--I had time to observe how a few short weeks had changed the -traitor. - -Always a handsome man, with a clear transparent skin, intellectual -features, thin nostrils well recurved and sensitive to every changing -mood, and eyes that were almost womanish for size and for a certain -languorous sensuousness, he might still have sat for the portrait of -that Benedict Arnold who had braved the wrath of General Gates to save -the day at the second battle of Stillwater. Yet there was a striking -change, apparent even to one who had seen him as seldom as I had. The -lips were set in thinner lines, the eyes were gloomy, and, when he -turned them upon me, I saw a lurking devil of sullen suspicion in them. -Also the deep furrows in his brow had grown still more marked and they -had taken an upward and outward curve like the suggestion of a pair of -horns. - -None the less, his reception of me was bland and cordial, made with -a half-offering of his hand, which, I am happy to say, I found it -possible to seem to overlook. - -“You are very welcome, Mr. Page,” he said, smiling with his lips and at -the same time probing me with the eyes of gloomy distrust. “Sir Henry -Clinton says kind things of you here”--waving the letter--“and I trust -we shall go on to a better acquaintance.” Then, a little doubtfully: -“Should I be able to place you more nearly?” - -I told him I thought not; that I had probably seen him oftener than -he had me. Then I added the bold word which has slain many a better -man--the word of open flattery. - -“Like many another who knows you even less well than I do, Mr. Arnold, -I owe you a debt of gratitude. But for your courageous example, not -a few men who are now faithfully serving the king would still be in -Mr. Washington’s riff-raff army, fighting for that jack-o’-lantern -thing called liberty. And, but for that same act of yours, I can most -truthfully say that I should not be here this morning, trespassing on -your good nature, sir.” - -It was very gross, and I do think Mr. Dick Sheridan himself could not -have made the _doubl’ entendre_ more dramatic. Yet this gentlemanly -turncoat, whose vanity was even greater than his villainy, gulped it -down as I have seen our good Dominie Attlethorpe, of Williamsburg, -swallow a luscious oyster. - -“You are either the most astute of young scapegraces, or the kindliest, -Mr. Page,” he retorted, with the moral glutton’s satisfaction in every -intonation. And then: “Have you breakfasted, sir?” - -I told him I had; whereupon he asked me to walk with him, saying that -we could come at my business as well in that way as in any other, if I -would so far indulge him. - -I laughed in my sleeve, and gave him the wall, as a poor dependent -on his bounty should; and, reckoning again without my host, wondered -how long it would take poor Champe to get within such easy gripping -distance of his quarry. As we passed northward and eastward, quite to -the other side of the town, and well beyond the burned area Arnold -put me through my deserter’s catechism, which now, since I had danced -through it gaily once for Castner, and again for Sir Henry, came off -the tongue as glibly as a schoolboy’s lesson. - -It was in front of a rather stately house facing an open space that we -paused finally, and I saw a woman come and open the door and close it -again quickly when she saw there were two of us. I had but a glimpse -of the woman’s face, but that was enough. No one who had ever seen -Margaret Shippen would fail to recognize her even though she appeared, -as she did to me in that door-opening glimpse, in the guise of a sweet -young woman prematurely saddened and aged by sorrow unnamable. - -But another thing I saw which disturbed me even more than the sight -of poor Peggy Shippen’s face; disturbed me so greatly that I scarcely -heard the traitor’s question which gave me the opportunity I had been -flattering him for. The distracting thing was a fleeting glimpse of -another fair face at an upper window of the house; a clean-cut profile -appearing for a single instant behind the leaded panes, and then -vanishing so quickly that I began to doubt that it had been there. Now -I could have sworn upon a stack of Bibles that there was only one face -in all the world that could have flung that profile outline upon any -window that was ever glazed, and that face I had left safely behind me -in Virginia. - -Could it be possible--but no, it was only a fancied resemblance, I told -myself; and then I flogged my wits into line again in time to answer -Arnold’s leave-taking query that had been all but lost in the sudden -jangle of emotions. - -“What can you do for me, Mr. Arnold?” I echoed. “That is for you to -determine. From what Sir Henry Clinton said, or rather hinted at, I -hoped you might be able to make use of me in some way. But I shall be -at my best if you keep me near your person, sir. Of that I am very -sure.” - -Again he swallowed the bait like a greedy gudgeon. - -“You shall come to me at my headquarters this afternoon, Mr. Page,” -he said, with the air of one of the great ones of earth dealing out -largesse to a reverent and admiring vassal; and then he ascended the -steps and the door was opened quickly for him by the woman who stood -inside. - -Some things were made plain to me on my chilly walk back to the -southward, with its opportunity for quiet reflection. One was that -I had not overrated Arnold’s appetite for flattery, which was in -truth even grosser than I had imagined. Another developed out of the -side-glimpse given me of the traitor’s domestic affairs. It was not -passing strange that Arnold should not wish to have his family with -him in the house in the lower town where, as Castner had told me, -he ate and slept and had his regimental rendezvous. But I saw more -than disinclination in the town-wide severing. It spoke eloquently of -the traitor’s social isolation that Arnold should be only a daylight -visitor at the house where his wife and child were, without doubt, the -guests of family friends of the Shippens. - -I was wondering upon what footing he stood in this house, and if he -were only tolerated there as he seemed to be elsewhere, when the -recollection of the face I had seen at the upper window came to haunt -and perplex me again. My last letter from Beatrix Leigh had pictured -her hived up in the great house at Sevenoaks, in County Warwick, her -father and brothers gone to the south with General Greene,--in whose -campaign against Cornwallis she was patently more interested than -she was in our humdrum New York fuse-sputterings,--and her mother -and all the other women-folk of the tidewater homeland shuddering in -anticipation of the long-threatened descent of the British upon the -Virginia coast. - -She had given me no hint of any intended desertion of Sevenoaks, and -though she had many friends in Philadelphia, where her schooling had -been, I thought it the height of improbability that she would get even -that far on the way to New York in these troublous times. Weighing all -these things in the mental balance, I saw how absurd it was to let a -momentary sight of a beautiful face at a window run me so far aside -from the beaten path of calm reasoning. In sober fact the fancied -identification proved nothing but this: that Beatrix Leigh’s face was -so constantly present in my mind and heart that I was ready to find and -adore it under any suggestive guise. - -Having now some little time to call my own, I first secured a lodging -at the tavern where the ham had made me homesick for the smoke-houses -of Virginia, and then set out to find Sergeant Champe. That I should -chance upon him readily enough, I had no doubt; but with the town full -of soldiers it proved a more difficult thing than I had foreseen, so -difficult that the noon hour found me still groping for my accomplice. -But one thing I did find, namely, the barracks of the “Loyal American -Legion,” and, with due respect for any true Loyalists there may have -been in this traitor-built corps, I never saw a more hang-dog shuffling -of men than these who were shortly to call our Judas “General.” They -were a curst lot, too, for in all my introductory foregathering with -them, I could not find more than three or four who would join me in a -soldierly pot of wine. - -Castner joined me at the midday meal at my inn, this time as my guest; -and now I began to regret my knowing of this fine young fellow, who was -condoning in me what must have appeared to him as the most deplorable -wickedness a soldier can be guilty of. I foresaw complications, if our -acquaintance should go on ripening into friendship; I must use him, or -any other man coming in my way, to forward the great end in view, and -already the idea of making the young, fine-faced, upright lieutenant an -innocent accessory was growing repugnant to me. So I thought it no more -than right to give him his warning--which I did. - -“You have rooms in the barracks, Mr. Castner?” I asked when we had come -to the long-stemmed pipes after the meal in the inn common-room. - -“No,” he replied. “Being on detached duty as one of Sir Henry’s aides, -I live as I please.” - -“And where does it please you to live, if I may ask?” - -“In this house at the present time. It is not so good as the best, -perhaps; but it is far better than the worst.” - -Here was a promise of more complications. My necessary meetings with -Champe, which I had thought this tavern so near the fort might -shelter, could scarcely come under the same roof with Castner and not -awaken suspicion. Yet I reflected that I was not tied to the tavern -looking down Broad Way to Sir Henry Clinton’s headquarters with any -string; I could break loose whenever I chose. - -“It is very good, indeed,” I allowed, thinking still of the breakfast -ham and eggs. Then quite abruptly: “You have taken a fancy to me, Mr. -Castner, and it does you little credit. You will live longer and have -more money and a better digestion, if you give me the cold shoulder.” - -The young Briton’s smile was altogether good-natured. - -“If I were inclined to be suspicious, which I trust I am not, I might -wonder why you particularly wish to be quit of me, Mr. Page,” he said -mildly. - -“I don’t, on my own account,” I denied bluntly. “But I am telling you -the truth--for your own good. Have you ever fought a duel, Lieutenant?” - -He admitted that he had, and had come off second best. But it was a -mere point of honor with a brother officer, and no life-and-death -affair. - -“Then you are committed to the code? You think a challenged man should -fight?” - -“I think a challenged gentleman will always fight,” he corrected. - -I hooked an arm over the back of my chair and looked him full in the -face. - -“Let me tell you something, Mr. Castner--always for your own good, you -will remember. Yesterday, about this time or a little later, I slapped -a man’s face. He sent his friend to my friend, and this morning at -daybreak, as I have reason to suppose, a party of three which should -have been a party of four, met in a grassy cove on the riverside -just below the town of Nyack. At that hour, or possibly a short time -afterward, I was breakfasting very pleasantly here with you, as you -will recall.” - -He was evidently shocked, as I meant him to be, and for a little while -he was unable to find the fitting word. When he did find it, it was a -most gentlemanly word, I had to admit. - -“You have your reasons for telling me this, Mr. Page, and you will -pardon me if I say that they do not appear upon the surface. I will ask -you one question--which you may answer or not, as it pleases you: Does -Sir Henry Clinton know of this?” - -“I told him, as nearly as I can remember, in much the same words.” - -“Yet he condoned this--this----” - -“The poltroonery?” I cut in, helping him out. “Yes, in a way. But his -way made a just and even-handed discrimination between a brave man -and a coward. You will observe that he did not billet me with his own -people; he turned me over to Mr. Benedict Arnold. Now will you give me -the cold shoulder, Mr. Castner?” - -He took time to think about it, regarding me now a bit wistfully, I -thought, and again, angrily. It was a test that a tried friend might -have balked at, and he was only an acquaintance of a few hours. - -“You have neither the face nor the carriage of a coward,” he said at -length, speaking slowly. “Moreover, you are from the South, where your -kinsmen would brand you for a deed such as you have described. No, Mr. -Page, I shall not cold-shoulder you, because I know very well that you -have carefully kept back the key to your riddle. Some day you will -think well enough of me to let me have it.” - -What could I do with this generous, noble-minded fellow who would not -believe ill of me on my own word? There seemed to be nothing for it but -to take him as he stood; to make the best of his abounding nobility -of character and friendly loyalty. Yet it was now all the harder to -deceive him and to play upon this very friendship, as I feared I might -be obliged to. I have heard of those who are said to pray, sometimes, -to be delivered from their friends, and I have always had a hot corner -of despising saved for these cold-blooded ones. But now I found myself -on the brink of saying the same unthankful prayer in my own behalf. - -When we rose from the table, Castner asked me very kindly if I would -walk abroad with him, saying that we might visit the fortification, -if I wished. But here I laid down a rule which I meant to adhere to: -a spy I might be; a spy I surely should be in every way that might in -the future prove helpful to our side. But I did not need to make this -friendly lieutenant a blind accomplice, and I would not. - -So I pleaded my afternoon engagement with the arch traitor, and was -glad I had it to plead; and I went to keep it, a little later, leaving -Castner to smoke another pipe by himself before the fire in the tavern -bar. - -Arnold was writing at his table in the front room of the upper suite -when his man, who, as I noted, wore the uniform of the new legion, -marshaled me in. Though the event proved that I was expected, Arnold -went on with his writing without so much as a look for me, and again I -had a chance to mark the deepening furrows in his brow and the brooding -look in the moody eyes. - -When he was quite through he dropped the quill with a sigh and turned -to me. - -“Well, Mr. Page, you find me serving myself as I can,” he said. “None -the less, I will serve you, too, as I may. Will you take a commission -in the new legion?” - -I wondered a little at his reckless haste. Had I been in his shoes, I -think I should have considered well before confiding in a man whose -very presence was a proof of his perfidy to others. But at that time -I had yet to learn that the enlisting of the “Loyal American” Legion -had proved a stupendous task for our traitor, and one which tried -him to the last reserve of his ambitious will. There were privates -in the ranks who scorned to serve under him; and when it came to the -officering, the difficulties were almost insurmountable. No British -regular would go with him willingly, and the few he had were under -peremptory orders from Sir Henry Clinton. So now, when he had a chance -to secure a subaltern whose fame as a troop leader was not, if I do say -it, altogether of the worst, he caught at it. - -I made no bones of accepting the commission, meaning that there should -be no occasion for my holding it longer than the kidnapping purpose -should require; and so I told him, with more flattery, that myself and -my sword were at his disposal, or, if he desired, I would place myself -in the ranks, as possibly many a better man had done. - -“No, no, Mr. Page,” he made haste to say. “We don’t value you so -lightly as that. You shall have a captain’s commission when we are -ready to sail, and in the meantime, if you please, you may serve as my -aide.” - -It was here that my wonder burst into speech. Was the man gone totally -blind on the side of caution? - -“If I speak freely, Mr. Arnold, it is only a subordinate’s duty,” I -began. “As your aide I shall be responsible in some sense for your -personal safety. That I can not be, if you take in every piece of -flotsam and jetsam that drifts across the lines, as you have me.” - -He smiled soberly. - -“As I said this morning, Mr. Page, you are either a very shrewd young -man, or a very mirror of frankness. Don’t you see that your raising -of such a question is the best possible proof of your own purity of -motives? But I am not so careless as I may seem. Since we walked -together this morning, you have been vouched for by an unimpeachable -authority.” - -“Now angels and ministers of grace defend us!” said I, to the inward -Richard Page: “who in the devil’s name has been thrusting a finger into -my pie?” But aloud, I said: “It is a good thing to have friends, Mr. -Arnold, even if one can not always thank them for specific favors.” - -“Nevertheless, you may soon have an opportunity of thanking this one,” -he amended; but after this he left me still bewildered as to the how -and when and where, passing at once into detail matters concerning -the new legion, telling me of the trouble he had been at to find -drillmasters and to get the raw levies whipped into some semblance of -an effective fighting force. - -After some talk of this nature he began sounding me delicately in the -Virginian part of me, and instantly I divined that the new legion was -to take the field in that quarter, and that my knowledge of the coast -and people was an asset that he was counting on in bribing me with the -captain’s commission. Whereupon I had a chance to exercise my inventive -faculty again; and what he did not know about Virginia and the temper -of her people when I was through--well, it would not have filled -Governor Thomas Jefferson’s library at Monticello, perhaps, but it -would certainly have furnished matter for a goodish-sized volume in the -same, I dare swear. - -Yet Arnold took it, or seemed to take it, all as Gospel truth, the more -readily, I think, because I taxed him with the purpose of invading -my native province; and when he would neither deny nor affirm, fell -to pleadings for exemptions for my kinsfolk and others, when he, and -our triumphant legion, should be carrying fire and sword into the -rebellious colony. And afterward, I prayed most heartily, with my head -in the dust, that God would forgive me for this excess of daredeviling, -for, as He is my witness, I had no more thought that this consummate -villain would live to lead an army into Virginia than I had that he -would come back from the gallows-grave in which I hoped to see him -comfortably planted. - -It was while we were talking that one of Sir Henry Clinton’s aides, not -Castner but another, came in with a bulky packet addressed to Arnold. -I sat quietly by while he opened it, and when I saw the blue ribbon -and the great seal appended to the parchment as he unfolded it, I was -at no loss to account for the sudden lighting up of his eyes and the -smile--it was almost a smirk--of gratification that went with it. - -The parchment was his brevet as brigadier-general in His Majesty’s -Army, and I hastened to improve the shining hour for another gentle -stuffing of his vanity. Rising quickly from my chair, I stood at -attention before him, gave him the graceful British salute in my best -style, and said, with a true Virginia bow to go with the words: “Let me -be the first to congratulate you, General Arnold.” - -He tried to laugh it off, tossing the document carelessly upon the -writing-table, and calling it a bauble which wise men valued at its -true worth. But the gratified smile was still playing fitfully across -his face even as he spoke; and in a little while he left me, going to -the alcove at the farther end of the long room, where a new uniform was -laid out carefully upon the bed. - -His viewing of his finery set me to thinking of my own needs in that -direction. As Arnold’s aide, I must have a captain’s uniform, and I was -the more anxious to hasten it because it would give me an excuse to -carry serviceable weapons, which my civilian’s clothes did not. So I -broached this subject to my lord Lucifer Judas when he came back to my -end of the room, and said I should be ashamed to serve a general in my -citizen’s garmentings, and that I hoped my service was to begin at once. - -There was no dispute upon this point, Arnold seeming to be as eager -to have a bedecked-out captain to tag him around the town, as I was -eager to be the tag. And now it appeared that he had overshot the mark -in his quartermaster’s stores, having, as he assured me, several more -outfittings than he had officers, and among these possibly a captain’s. -Hence, I was shortly afterward sent to the legion barracks with an -order for my bedizenry, and a second order upon the regimental tailor -to cut and alter and fit the same for me that I might report to General -Arnold in full panoply by six o’clock at the latest. - -I went willingly enough, being glad to escape from the company of a man -who stirred up all the evil I ever owned and made my fingers itch to -lay hold of him. And because the afternoon was half spent when I began, -and because the fussy little Dutch tailorman had to measure and fit and -try and measure again, I lost another chance of finding John Champe, -and thereby sealed his fate as well as my own, as will appear a little -farther on. - -Since I was ordered to report to Arnold at six o’clock, I had an early -supper at my tavern, and expected to miss Castner. But he came in and -sat down at my table before I was through, and I was sure I saw scorn -in his honest blue eyes for my new plumage. - -“I like you better otherwise,” he said, when I had laughingly given him -leave to open his mind. “I hate to see you in that--gentleman’s livery.” - -“What!” I retorted; “after I have told you how emphatically it fits me?” - -“Yes; even after that.” - -“Well,” said I; “I hope you may never have to wear it, Mr. Castner, -since you dislike it so warmly.” - -“Zounds, man!” he cried, leaping from his chair as if I had pricked him -with a sword’s point, “do you know everything?” - -Of course, I modestly disclaimed the charge, and begged him to sit down -and be at his ease again; but he began to walk the floor of the small -snuggery where I had my supper served, biting his lip and giving a very -fair imitation of a man too deeply enraged to be able to swear it off -easily. - -Naturally, I was curious to know how I had unwittingly stirred the mud -in the depths of his soul-pool, but I would not question him. Apart -from having no special claim upon his confidence, I knew he would tell -me of his own accord when the rage-pot became hot enough to boil over. - -But the way in which he began to tell me was with a sober question. - -“Mr. Page,--Captain Page, I should say,--for the honor of the king’s -service you must advise me how you came to know a thing which, I -am solemnly assured, has never been mentioned outside of Sir Henry -Clinton’s cabinet. If we have traitors that near to us, we must know -it.” - -Now I was able to laugh at him and once more to beg him to sit down and -to compose himself. - -“I know nothing; less than nothing, Lieutenant Castner,” I protested. -“What did I say to stir you so?” - -“You do know!” he insisted. “I saw it in your eyes when you wished that -I might not have to wear the uniform of Mr. Arnold’s Loyal Americans. I -must know how you found out!” - -I laughed again. “So you are to wear it?” I asked. “I’m sure I could -not desire a better fellow officer. Yet I think you need not borrow -trouble in advance, if it be Mr. Arnold you object to.” - -He sat down and rested his elbows on the table, and tried to look me -through and through with eyes that were only meant to see out of, and -to be read by others. - -“More mysteries,” he fumed. And then he added: “They are dangerous, -Captain, most peculiarly dangerous for a man in your situation.” - -“This is no mystery,” I replied boldly, never letting him loose the -eyehold for an instant. “Have you never heard that Mr. Arnold’s health -is most precarious? It is, I promise you; every one on the other side -of the Neutral Ground knows it well. He will drop off very suddenly -some day, Mr. Castner. I may go so far as to say, in strictest -confidence to you, that I marked some of the symptoms while I was with -him to-day.” - -“You surprise me,” he said; but I saw that the nail was holding. Then -he asked in a tone that was almost sympathetic, what the malady was. - -“It has never been written out in any doctor’s book, I believe,” I -rejoined gravely. “It is an obscure thing, coming suddenly and tying a -man in knots, so that at the last he can move neither hand nor foot.” - -I had him fairly mesmerized by this time, and his voice was hushed when -he said: “And you say Mr. Arnold has this--this disease?” - -“There is little doubt of it. Indeed, I overheard two men, officers -they were in our--in the rebel army, speaking of it only last night, -and, naturally, they were lamenting that it had not carried him off -before he carried himself off. One of those men had known Mr. Arnold -from the beginning, I believe.” - -For a long minute Castner was silent, and he seemed to have forgotten -the supper that the pretty serving maid had brought him. When he spoke -he was plumbing me again with the honest eyes--or he thought he was. - -“It is a hard thing to say, Captain Page,” he said, speaking like a -man who has been digging in the very bottom layer of his convictions, -“but sometimes I think that an outcome like this which you say is -threatening would be the best for all concerned.” - -“I am sure it would,” I agreed brazenly. But I immediately took the -edge off by adding: “For the king’s cause, of course. Mr. Arnold -has his abilities; no one will deny that. But however honest he may -be in his--ah--convictions, let us say, the obloquy that attaches to -eleventh-hour repentances in the popular mind will hamper him, and -through him the cause for which he fights.” - -Castner smiled leniently. - -“You are a strange young man, Mr. Page. You discuss such matters as -if they were as remote from you as the stars. Yet you come under Mr. -Arnold’s ban--if it be a ban--yourself.” - -“Not quite,” I countered hardly. “I have convictions, you see, and I -was never living up to them more faithfully than I am at this moment. -But now I must beg your leave to go. I am due at Mr. Arnold’s quarters -at six o’clock.” - -It was but a short walk in the starlit evening to the house next door -to Sir Henry Clinton’s. There was a soldier on guard at Arnold’s door -now, a tall man standing stiffly in the way to stop me until he saw my -Loyal American uniform and the captain’s shoulder-knot. Then he let me -pass without a word, and also, as I observed, without the salute. - -Arnold was writing again when I ascended to the working room, and with -a nod to me and a wave of the shapely hand toward a chair, he went -on for a full hour, I should think, filling sheet after sheet with -industrious application and singleness of purpose. It was certainly -no lightening of my responsibility that made me sleepy when the -quill-scratching grew by and by into a soothing lullaby. But there had -been a strenuous night and a none too restful day to follow it, and -before I realized that I had been asleep, I awoke to find Sir Judas -standing over me, with the gloomy scowl of half-aroused suspicion -wrinkling his brow, his hands behind him, and his attitude that of a -spy at the windows of the unsuspecting. - -It is none so easy to come out of a sound sleep in full possession of -all the faculties. My first half-waking impression was that something, -a word muttered in my sleep, perhaps, had betrayed me, and the impulse -that went with it prompted me to spring up and throttle the traitor -before he could give the alarm. In good fact, I was starting from -my chair with this same insane purpose tugging at me, when his word -reassured me. - -“You sleep soundly, Captain Page, and I am old enough and burdened -enough to envy you the gift of it,” he said moodily. And then, with -a touch of sympathy that made me wish he would always show me only -the hateful side of him: “I was about to command your attendance for -the evening, but you will be needing rest to fit you for to-morrow’s -duties, which will be arduous enough.” - -Having a good grip upon my senses by this time, I protested at once -that I was fit and much refreshed by my sleep, which I found, to -my astonishment, had stretched above an hour. Also, I expressed a -willingness, which was entirely unfeigned, to accompany him wherever he -was going, and I thought his somber eyes lighted a little at that. - -“Have you ever heard me spoken of as a timid man, Captain Page?” he -asked, with a lifting of the brow that was meant for a smile. - -I had not, and I said so. His worst enemy never denied him courage and -intrepidity, I think; and when I remembered the stories they told of -the rash boy who had fired a pistol at his sister’s French admirer, and -had once stripped his coat and offered to fight a stout constable who -was interfering with some of his lawless pranks, I could well believe -that the daredevil boy of a dozen years was the legitimate father of -the man of forty. - -“A timid man would scarcely have led the winter march to Quebec,” I -said in confirmation of the tribute to his courage. - -At this the brow-wrinkling grew into a wintry laugh. - -“That was five long years ago, and the times and manners have changed -much since then. In Mr. Washington’s camp, now, they would be quoting -Shakespeare at me, saying that ‘Conscience doth make cowards of us -all.’ Do you read Shakespeare, Captain Page?” - -“Not that part of him,” I laughed; adding: “Nor do you, General Arnold.” - -“Perhaps not. Yet I find myself growing thoughtful now, where I once -took no thought,” he said reflectively; “as in the present instance. -You are fresh from Washington’s camp, Captain. Have you ever heard it -said that he would give the half of his Virginia estates to lay his -hands upon me?” - -I could truthfully say “No,” to this. - -“It has been told me,” he went on moodily again. “Also that he has his -hired desperadoes here in these streets waiting their chance to kidnap -me. I am no coward, Captain Page; so much I think I may say without -boasting. Yet there is something in that Scripture that speaks of the -terror of the arrow that flieth by day and the pestilence walking -in the darkness. It will go hard with any or all of these assassin -emissaries of Mr. Washington’s if I can ferret them out.” - -“It should, if you can catch them,” I agreed. “But in the meantime, you -should take no risks, General; your safety means too much to the king’s -cause. You may call it a flattery if you will, but it is the simple -truth that the King’s Army on this side of the water does not hold -another commander who could fill your place, sir,” I said, meaning, of -course, that there was no other base enough. - -“Oh, as to that,” he said, slipping on his air of grandeur as if -it had been a coat. “It would hardly become me to agree with you, -Captain Page. Still, what I have done for the Congress and Mr. -Washington, I can do for Parliament and King George, I suppose. But -we are wandering from the point. I was about to say that one of our -friends gives a farewell rout and supper to the officers of the Loyal -Americans to-night, and I thought that perhaps, partly because of Mr. -Washington’s hired Mohawks, and partly from a desire to show your -maiden uniform, you would walk with me, Captain Page.” - -I said I would be blithe to go; which was both false and true. I -thought it hard that I should have to show myself as a Virginia Page in -public places wearing the feathers of a carrion bird. But on the other -hand, I was ready to bind myself to Sir Iscariot by every tie that -offered itself. - -So, when he had buttoned himself into a great watchcoat, thrusting, as -I observed, a pair of short, thick-barreled dueling pistols into the -outer pockets, we took the stair for it, and so came down to the steps -where the crusty soldier stood at attention and saluted as we passed -him. - -Before we had gone many steps in the street I thought I heard this -soldier’s footfalls, or another’s, close behind. Thinking it was a good -time to show my bodyguard watchfulness with little hurt to anybody, I -said, “One moment, General,” clapped hand to sword-hilt, and made as if -I would face about and charge the man who was following us. But Arnold -restrained me. - -“No, not this time, Captain,” he said lightly. “It is only our -door-keeping sentry, and he has orders to keep in touch with us. The -streets are dark, and if there should be an attack, three of us might -be none too many.” - -Having the information that I wanted, I caught the step again, and when -we had gone a little farther on our way, I made bold to ask who our -soldier-follower was. - -“You should know him, as I take it, Captain Page,” was the calm reply. -“It is Sergeant Champe, late of the rebel Henry Lee’s Light Dragoons.” - - - - -V - -A KISS AND A MAN’S LIFE - - -OUR walking route, Arnold’s and mine, lay over the ground we had -covered together in the forenoon, and was of an equal length. But -with my brain afire with the possibilities suddenly opened up by -the knowledge that Champe was only a step or two behind us--that we -two, bent upon the same object, had the traitor practically in our -hands--the distance we traversed was all too short to let me invent a -way to take advantage of the Heaven-sent opportunity. - -Now came the time when I bitterly regretted the headlong rashness that -had led me to put the cart before the horse in all the day’s work. It -was clear now that Champe was the only building basis for any rational -plot to take the traitor; he it was who was in communication with Major -Lee, without whose timely cooperation in providing means of escape for -us from the town our mere seizing of Arnold would be but a flash in the -pan. My first and biggest care should have been to make myself known -in my true character to Champe; and a sharp attack of self-abasement -followed the reflection that it might easily have been done at our -breakfast-table meeting. A nod, a hint, a wink--any signal that might -have given him a clue, would have sufficed. And I had tossed the -chance aside like a spendthrift, telling myself that the day was yet -young! - -Now, however, as we strode along through the ill-lighted streets, the -laggard afterwit spared me no stab. Somewhere in the darkness behind -us--never near enough for me to signal to--tramped the sullen-faced -sergeant-major, ready enough to get into action, no doubt, but firmly -convinced that he was following two traitors instead of one. For all -I knew, the time might be fully ripe for the striking of the blow. -The difficulties hitherto, as Mr. Hamilton had explained them, had -turned upon successive failures in fitting together simultaneously the -two halves of the plot, Champe’s and Major Lee’s. What if the tangle -had been straightened out and got into working order in the one-day -interval, and I was merely obstructing instead of helping? - -The thought was maddening, and yet I dared not risk all by collaring my -man and shouting to Champe for help, and so, perhaps, making another -blunder; one which would cost Champe’s life as well as mine. The better -hope, it seemed, lay in retrieving the prime error of the day at the -earliest possible instant; and I was still racking my brain to devise -some way of communicating quickly with Champe when we came to the end -of our walk. - -The house of entertainment, as it appeared, was on the opposite side of -the open space from the one which Arnold had visited in the forenoon. -It was a mansion, as mansions go in the North, with a narrow lawn, -clipped hedges and box-borderings, and it was well illuminated in our -honor. I thought we should be early; at that hour our Virginia dames -and damsels would be just waking from their beauty naps. But there -was music within, and the dancing had begun, though guests were still -arriving in pairs and groups. - -Some half-dozen or more reached the door of welcome just as we did, and -here I hoped to get the chance of speaking the necessary word to John -Champe. But though I was sure he had followed us through the gate, he -was nowhere to be seen; and when Arnold’s name was called out by the -footman in waiting, my own was coupled with it, and again the chance -vanished. - -Our entry was into a large and brilliantly lighted hall, which was -well filled at the moment with the arriving guests; bewigged civilians -carrying the solid Dutch pomp bequeathed to their successors by the New -Netherlanders; high-bred dames with powdered hair and patches, which, -however much they pique the charms of the younger women are, to my -mind, a blemish on the face of maturity; officers and their ladies, not -so many of the gentlemen wearing the uniform of the Loyal Americans as -I had expected to see, yet still a fair sprinkling of them. - -I missed the name of my hostess, though I afterward learned that it -was the roof of Chief Justice Smith, brother of the Joshua Pett Smith -who had been the aider and abetter of the Arnold treason from the -beginning, that sheltered us. But this and kindred trivialities were -but the first few drops before the storm which was presently to make me -forget them. - -I was still saying empty nothings to an elderly lady to whom I had been -passed on, with my brain busy, as it had been for a good half-hour, -upon the Champe blunder, when I began to have a growing sense of -impending disaster. It was as if I had groped my way into a dark room, -believing it to be empty, and had suddenly been warned, by that sixth -sense which is yet unnamed in the books, of the presence of another and -vaguely threatening occupant. - -It is curious how the instinct of self-preservation bobs first to the -surface, like a submerged bottle-cork, in an emergency. The impulse was -to duck and run, without waiting to see what menaced me, and following -it, I bowed and made way for a snuffy old gentleman who was ready to -take my entertainer off my hands. But being no better than a blind man -in a strange house, I went straight into the thick of the peril. The -ballroom lay beyond the broad stair running by easy stages from the -upper story, and my thought was to go into the great room and so to -lose myself in the throng. - -At the turning of the newel-post, when the way seemed altogether clear, -a bevy of young women came down the stair, and I stepped back and hung -my head and gave them precedence. They fluttered past, with only a -glance for the spick-and-span new uniform--all save one. And when I -looked up to find the reason it was flashing down upon me in scorching -contempt from the eyes of Mistress Beatrix Leigh. - -She was standing on the next to the lowest step, leaning with one hand -lightly on the stair-rail, and though she was at the instant the very -spirit and image of the goddess of scorn and indignation, I never saw -her when she was more distractingly beautiful or more to be desired. -But she gave me little time to admire her. - -“They told me,” she said most cuttingly, “that there would be a Captain -Page here to-night; one of our Virginia Pages come at this late day to -his proper sense of loyalty. I could not tell them they lied, because -I was their guest; and now--oh, Dick! how could you do it!” she ended, -with a pitiful quivering of the sweet lip and a sudden upspringing of -tears to the beautiful eyes. - -The human mind shuffles its cards quickly at such a crisis. Had my -secret been my own, she should have had it there and then, and all -would have been well. I knew I could trust her, notwithstanding the -fact that she was Margaret Arnold’s friend--and her fellow-guest in the -house across the square, I feared. - -But the secret was not mine, and with the second thought came the -enlightening glimpse of how horribly it would distress and embarrass -her if she should have even a hint of my true reason for this miserable -masquerade. So I hung my head and refused to say the word which would -have cleared me, though it broke my heart to keep silence, in the face -of the lip-quivering and the tears and the reproachful exclamation. - -I could feel that the tears had been driven back and that the glorious -eyes were flashing again when she went on. - -“You knew I should be here to-night, Mr. Page?” she asked, giving me -the courtesy prefix for the first time in all our life-long knowing of -each other. - -“No,” I replied dumbly. “How could I know it? Your letters told me -nothing of this--of your coming to New York.” - -“Yet you saw me this morning,” she said accusingly. - -“I know now that I did; yet I could not believe it then--nor later, -when I tried to think it out. You saw me?” - -“I did; and I have been telling myself all day long that I did not. I -said it could not be. By so much, Mr. Page, your friends think better -things of you than you think of yourself.” - -“That may always be true of the worst as well as the best of us,” I -said, not knowing what else to say. - -She drew herself up proudly. - -“I never thought to have it to say for Mr. Richard Page. Will you be -good enough to let me pass, sir?” - -I stepped back, and she came down the two steps with her face averted. -I thought I could let her go; it was my plain soldier duty. But when -the fragrance of her was in my nostrils I lost my hold on duty and all -else. - -“One word, Beatrix, for God’s sake!” I muttered, praying that the words -might go to her ears alone. “I must see you before you quit this house, -if only for five little minutes! You can’t deny me this!” - -She left me without the promise, without a word, without the slightest -inclination of the proud head, and I sank fathoms deep into the pit of -wretchedness. And, as if to make my punishment the sharper, in another -minute I saw her chatting gaily with a little whipper-snapper British -coxcomb of an ensign whom I could most joyously have broken in two -across my knee. - -As may readily be imagined, there was a miserable hour or two for me -after this; it might have been a longer or a shorter time, I do not -know. The clocks were all stopped for me, and I know that I lived -ages head-under in the slime-pit of despair, coming to the surface at -intervals, when I had a glimpse of her dancing, as she always danced, -the very poetry of motion, with one or another of the house guests, -each new man transforming himself, or being transformed, into my -bitterest foe because he had my place. - -Arnold I saw only once or twice, and scarcely gave him a second -thought; and as for Champe, whom I might easily have hunted out now -since he was probably hanging about the door, I had forgotten the -worthy sergeant-major’s existence. So selfish and single-eyed is a -great love aroused and well convinced that it has lost its all. - -During these ages of wretchedness, in which my own dismal misery was -only made the blacker by the lights and the gay company filling the -rooms to overflowing, she never gave me a look or made me a sign to -show that she remembered my presence in the house of merrymaking. But -when I could endure it no longer--it was while she was sitting out a -dance with that same popinjay ensign that I had desired to break in -two--I made my opportunity, passing in plainest view of her on my way -to a hothouse garden pavilion connected by a covered entryway with the -drawing-room where she was sitting. - -The air of the hothouse place was dense and heavy with the perfume of -blooming plants, and there was little light save that which filtered -through the glass roof and came from a sort of cresset-lamp bracketed -to the housewall outside and overhead. But with all its pent-up -fragrance, or perhaps, because of it, the glass house was empty, and I -flung myself down upon a settle to wait, hoping against hope that she -would relent and come and give me a word with her, though what that -word should be, I had no more idea than a simpleton. - -She did come, after what seemed like another full age of suspense; -and when I saw her dear face above the intervening hothouse roses, -I thought it was fairer than any flower that ever bloomed, and so I -should have told her if she had not frozen me so that I could only -stand before her and try to stammer some word of thanks for her coming. - -“Well?” she said, chilling me with a look of quiet scorn. - -I tried to face her as I had faced my enemies in the field, but it was -no manner of use; she had me beaten at my own game, and that before the -game was begun. - -“How can I say what I’d like to say when you look at me that way?” I -protested. “Is it fair to condemn me unheard?” - -“I have come to let you say that word you spoke of,” she announced, and -her tone was most discouraging. - -“You put me a thousand miles off!” I raged. “I can’t shout across the -world at you!” - -“There is no need to shout or to lose your temper, Mr. Page. You can -tell me in ten words, perhaps, why you have thought it proper to change -your coat and your flag, when--” she broke down at this and put her -face in her hands, and I could hear her saying over and over again -softly, “Oh, the disgrace of it!--the miserable, wretched disgrace of -it!” - -“It is no disgrace, Beatrix,” I burst out hotly. “If I could tell -you--if I dared tell you--” - -There was no scorn in her eyes when she uncovered them for me. But -there were tears. - -“Yes; if you could tell me, Dick,” she repeated after me, eagerly. - -If I had looked at her another second she would have had it all out of -me, in spite of my pledge to Mr. Hamilton, or my life or John Champe’s -or any other thing that might be jeopardized. So I had to star-gaze -at the flaring lamp beyond the glass roof when I said: “There may be -reasons--good reasons, Beatrix. Can’t you trust me to tell you them -when we have a better time and--and place than this?” - -“There can be no reason at all that will stand in the breach for you, -Dick. You know it, and that is why you try to put me off. But there -must have been a cause, a most bitter cause, to bring you here in that -coat, and as the friend of that unspeakable man whose mere presence -makes me lock myself in my room when he comes to see poor Margaret.” -She was pleading now; I knew it, and must still be obdurate and hard. - -“There was a cause, as you say,” I retorted. “There must have been, -since I have fought and spilt blood on the other side. But I can tell -you nothing to-night without forswearing myself more than I had to, to -wear this coat you dislike so heartily. But I had a cause,” I repeated, -going back to the beginning like a clock wound up to strike all its -hours over again. - -“You are bitter, Dick,” she said, and now she made no secret of her -anxious sympathy. “You were always a hot-head, ready to quarrel and -fight and take offense where none was meant. But I’ll do you the -justice to say that heretofore you’ve always made reparation like a -gentleman when your mad fit had passed. But now this dreadful thing is -beyond repair--or is it?” - -I could lie joyously enough to forward the enterprise which Mr. -Hamilton had sent me on, but I could not lie to her who was the heart -of my heart, even by implication. - -“No,” I said; “it is not beyond repair.” - -She caught eagerly at my reply. - -“Then you have already repented of this rashest, most wretched -passion-flight you ever made, Dick?--you have thought of--of going back -to your--to Colonel--” - -I laid a finger on my lips and slipped past her to see that the door in -the passageway to the drawing-room was fully closed. - -“What you are asking me to say would find me a rope very quickly if -it came to other ears,” I cautioned, lowering my voice. Then in the -same hurried half-whisper, and fearing every moment lest we should be -interrupted: “What I have admitted thus far has been the truth in every -word. But you must trust me, Beatrix; trust me in spite of everything. -And you must not ask me to tell you more.” - -“But you’ll promise me, Dick,--” she began. - -There was the sound of a gently-closing door and steps in the -passage--warnings she did not hear. Again there came that quick -shuttling of the mind that covers all the moves of a desperate game -in an eye-sweep that can not be measured for its lightning-like -swiftness. She was a daughter of the Virginia Leighs, with a father and -three brothers in the patriot army. I was a deserter and always to be -suspected until I had actually drawn blood in the king’s service. For -any of the Tory revelers to find us here together in cool converse.... -I saw the shadow of the gibbet hanging plainly over me when I took her -suddenly in my arms and stopped what might have been my death-warrant -with a kiss on the sweet lips of pleading. - -There was a little tableau among the roses in the glass house, with an -audience of only one to see it. While a clock might have ticked twice -she lay in my arms like some frightened wild thing. For all we had -grown up together, I had never let her see the masterful side of me -lover-wise, and I do think she was shocked beyond speech or struggling. - -But shamed resistance and the strength to make it came quickly enough -when a man’s voice said, “Ah, Captain Page, they told me you were here, -but they did not add that you had taken a fair prisoner, sir.” And -then, as we stood before him, Mistress Beatrix blushing as she had a -good right to, and I playing the part of a fond lover taken in the very -act, Arnold spread his hands and made his lowest bow and said: “Your -humble and most devoted admirer, Mistress Leigh. I have come to tell -you that Margaret is asking for you. And you, Captain, to your duty, -sir. We have much overstayed our time in this pleasant house.” - -Beatrix had fled before he finished, and afterward he straightened -up and looked me over with searchings that seemed to read my inmost -thoughts. But his words belied his apparent insight. - -“I was troubled when they told me you were here with Mistress Leigh,” -he said slowly. “But pshaw! I might have known how it was. You are a -warm-hearted lover, Captain, and it does you credit. And love knows no -politics, I’ll warrant you. Come, let us be going. There is much to be -done before to-morrow, and time and tide wait for no man.” - -And so we took our departure from the house of revels, and though I -looked passionately everywhere for her in the crowded assembly room, I -had no other sight of Beatrix, and had to go at last without knowing -whether she forgave me for saving my life with that ravished kiss. - - - - -VI - -DARK NIGHT - - -IT WAS not much beyond ten o’clock when we stepped out under the cold -December stars and bade farewell to Mr. Justice Smith’s hospitable -house of entertainment. - -I wondered a little at Arnold’s leaving so early, but the wonder was -appeased when he took another way back to the seaward end of the town; -a way which led to the Loyal American barracks. - -Here, though I stood aside and took no part in Arnold’s talk with a -group of his officers, I overheard a thing to shock the plotting part -of me swiftly into action. In a breath it was made plain that the -time for trapping our Judas had shrunk to a few short hours. Early in -the morning the legion was to begin embarking for some destination as -yet kept secret, and once on shipboard, all chance of our seizing the -traitor would be at an end. - -This explained most clearly Arnold’s allusions of the afternoon, and -his early quitting of the house of merrymaking. Also his saying to me -that there was much to be done before the morrow. Truly, there was much -to be done. If our business, Sergeant Champe’s and mine, were not to -burst like a pricked bubble it must have its beginning, its middle -part, and its ending crammed into the few hours that remained to us. - -So now I was set mad again upon that elusive chase of Champe, and I -had no more idea than a babe unborn what had become of him. Now that -I remembered, it struck me like a blow that I had not seen him at all -since Arnold and I had passed him on our coming out of the headquarters -house in the lower town. After that moment he had been a mere echoing -of footsteps in the rearward dark. - -Worse than this, he had not been our rearguard on the retreat from Mr. -Justice Smith’s to the barracks, or if he had, I had not heard him. -Being footloose while Arnold was conferring with his officers about -the morning’s move to the ships, I used my liberty and my eyes in a -painstaking search, scrutinizing every man in sight who wore a legion -uniform. But the sergeant was nowhere to be seen. - -This left me to climb desperately into the breach alone--with no -scaling ladder in sight; but lord! what would this life be without its -little excitements and its apparently unsolvable problems? I was still -alive, unhanged, fit and vigorous; with my sweet lady’s kiss--I could -swear she kissed me back again, whether she meant to or no--warm upon -my lips, and with two good hours of the night available before the tide -would turn to oppose an up-river flight.... The biggest battles of the -world had been fought and won in less time, I reflected; and when we -left the barracks, I was planning just how I would clinch my man so -he should not have a chance to get at those flapped coat pockets with -their short-barreled pistols. - -The onward faring was made in silence, with one of us, at least, -listening anxiously for footfalls in the rear--footfalls, which, -however, stubbornly refused to become audible. While his moody silence -held, I was afraid Arnold would dismiss me at the house door; on which -chance I should lose him altogether for the night. But at the very -moment of key-fitting he asked me in, saying that there were certain -maps of the southern coast which he would like to have me verify for -him in the figures of the soundings. - -This gave me a little extension of the precious time, at all events, -and when we were above-stairs, and he had lighted the candles, the -maps were spread on the table and I had to quibble afresh, giving him -anchorage depths in the Virginia roadways where a fishing-smack would -go aground, and otherwise discrediting the makers of the finest set of -navigation charts I had ever seen. - -It encouraged me not a little that he was restless while this -map-undoing was going on, walking up and down the room and coming now -and then to bend over the table to keep the question and answer alive. -I say it encouraged me, for the thing I feared was that he would settle -down for the night’s work and tell me to leave him. But so long as he -stayed afoot and restive there seemed room for the hope that he might -be going out again. - -The hope was not unfounded, as the event proved. Right in the midst -of the map talk he broke off to ask me if I were leg-weary, and if I -would favor him by accompanying him to the garden in the rear of the -house, where, as he said, it was his nightly custom to walk off the -perplexities and brain fatigues of the day. - -Anything was better than being hived up in the house with him, I -decided, and while the garden promised little, it had the advantage of -being out-of-doors and a few paces nearer to the river which must be my -highway to success and freedom, if any highway were to be found. - -So we tramped down the stair again, and I had my first unsatisfactory -sight of the garden at the back. As well as I could make out in the -starlight, it was a long and rather narrow area, enclosed within a high -wooden fence, with a graveled walk running down the middle of it, and -with a few shrubs and stunted trees growing in the neglected flower- -and vegetable-beds; as safe a place against any desperate kidnapping -purpose as any that could be found outside of the garrison prison yard. - -Arnold was still harping upon the Virginia coast and its anchorages -when we began to pace a weary sentry-beat side by side up and down the -graveled walk, and he kept it up with a great persistence, inquiring -minutely into the navigating particulars, and keeping me so busy -misleading him that I could not get a moment for the consideration of -any plotting plan at all. - -But as for that, the whole heavens and earth and all the universe were -blankly void of suggestion. I could think of nothing that offered the -slightest chance of success. To drop a step behind, to give him a -sudden wrestler’s back-throw and afterward to bind and gag him were -all simple enough. My six feet of good, sound, country-bred Virginia -bone and muscle would answer for these primitive beginnings. But having -trussed my fowl, I should be like the man who stole a hobbled horse, -which he could neither carry nor ride. I could never hope to escape -out of the high-fenced garden with my captive, or to reach the river -unhalted, or, reaching it, to have the fairy luck of finding a boat -with oars shipped and waiting for me to pull away in. - -One of these difficulties--the least of them--overcame itself as we -were wheeling to make one of our face-abouts at the lower end of the -walk. A board in the high fence paling had been displaced, and when I -touched it with my foot it fell outward with a dry clatter and left a -gap in the enclosure. - -“Your boundaries are tumbling down, General Arnold,” I remarked -carelessly; and he replied that it mattered little, since they would -be another’s boundaries very shortly. After which he paid no more -attention to the gap opened by the falling board; but I did, and every -time we made the turn at the walk’s end it tempted me. If I only knew -what lay beyond: how far it was to the river’s edge, and what one of a -thousand chances I might have of finding a boat unlocked and with oars -in it! - -But I did not know, could not know; and thus the irresolute “I dare -not,” waited upon the “I would,” and I was alternately fever-hot with -excitement and shivering in depression, the thing to be desired being -so near and yet so inimitably far. - -It was some time after the incident of the gap-opening, and while we -were passing a point midway between the house and the garden end, that -Arnold stopped short in his questioning about the Portsmouth harbor to -hold up a finger for silence. - -“What was that?” he asked, and I saw his other hand disappear into one -of the pistol-hiding pockets. - -“I heard nothing,” I made answer, which was the truth. - -“It was a sneeze or a cough,” he commented; “I am certain of it.” - -The pause gave me time to look around more precisely than I had -been able to while he was holding me in talk. The scrubby trees and -evergreens might possibly have sheltered an eavesdropper, but not -safely. Besides these there was nothing in the garden that would have -concealed a cat. - -“It was the sentry in front of Sir Henry Clinton’s quarters,” I -suggested. - -“No,” he objected; “it was nearer at hand. Make a circuit of that -shrubbery, Captain Page, while I cover this side.” And I heard the -click of a pistol-lock as he pulled the weapon from his pocket. - -I ran around the larger clump of evergreens, sword in hand, and found -nothing--the more readily since I was not expecting to find anything. -When I came up with him again, he appeared to be satisfied, and we went -on walking and talking as before, though now I observed that he kept -his right hand in the pocket of the greatcoat, and I could feel rather -than see that his eyes were roving watchfully from side to side as we -paced up and down. - -It must have been nearly midnight when the long forced march back -and forth in the garden walk ended, and with its ending all hope of -carrying off the traitor by main strength and awkwardness bade me -farewell, for that night at least. I took it hard, not knowing if there -would ever be another night more promising; and when Arnold had put me -through the house and out at the front door, telling me to go to my inn -quarters and to be prepared for an early reveille, I hung about in the -street and made friends with the sentry at Sir Henry Clinton’s door as -if I were still on duty, killing time for another full hour until I saw -the lights go out in the traitor’s upper room; all this on the barest -chance that he might come down again and so re-open the book of fate. - -When all was over I went to my tavern, railing at Sir Judas, at John -Champe, and most of all at myself for the futile fizzling out of a -thing that looked so simple on the face of it. Also, I had a hard word -or two for Mr. Hamilton for waiting until the clock had fairly struck -before he turned the failing failure over to me. - -This is how it looked to me, sober and chilled. But after I had got -warm before the blazing fire of logs in the tavern bar, and was the -better for a hearty swig of fresh-mulled wine, things took on a -cheerfuller hue; and when I lighted my tallow dip and went above-stairs -to the great barn-like room which had been assigned me, I was turning -over in my mind a wild plan of how I might smuggle in a dozen of my -fellows from Baylor’s Horse, snatch the traitor out of his bed, and -mount and ride and cut the way out to freedom. By which it would appear -that the hot wine, poured into an empty stomach, had straightway -climbed to the upper story--a thing quite possible, even when one is -twenty-two past, a Virginian, and a well-seasoned soldier, to boot. - -I had no more than struggled out of my watchcoat, and was making ready -to tumble into bed, when there came a trampling of heavy feet up the -stair and along the corridor. Somewhere about opposite my door the -footsteps paused, and I paused, too, with my waistcoat half off and the -wine fumes clearing from my brain as swiftly as if a cold north wind -were blowing them aside. - -And, in good truth, I needed to be sobered suddenly, for the next -instant the door sprang open as from a lusty kick, and Sergeant-Major -John Champe, his saturnine face a devil-mask of furious and frenzied -rage, charged in upon me. - - - - -VII - -AND AN UNBLEST DAWN - - -THERE was murder in Champe’s bloodshot eyes, and for the moment I was -helpless, having the waistcoat bridged across my arms like a hangman’s -shackles. Luckily for me, he had no weapon, else it is to be feared I -should have quit this troubled scene there and then. - -As it was, he flung himself upon me like a wild beast, all claws to -grip and teeth to tear, and I went down as if I had been a ten-pin, and -he a bowl twirled by the hand of the Giant Grim. Also his clutching -fingers were at my throat before I could rip and rend that cursed -manacling waistcoat into rags; so, by the time my arms were free, the -cold dead air of the big room was no longer mine to breathe, and this -fickle world, or what little I could see of it, was turning red and -green and black and back to red again before my eyes which seemed to be -sticking out of my head on a pair of horns like a snail’s. - -But Baylor’s Horse, or any fraction of it, does not die without a -struggle. With my hands free, I got a grip of the black-faced maniac’s -wrists, held it, tightened it until I could feel the joints crack -and his big fingers relax because there was no longer any living -connection between them and the pounding heart and maddened brain. - -After that it was simpler, though he was the heavier man. With a quick -bending of the strangled wrists, I rolled him off of me, holding him -so until the red lights stopped their dancing and I could get up with -some assurance that I should not be entirely helpless on my feet. Then -I loosed him, and staggered upright, reeled across to the door and shut -and barred it. - -“That’s for you, as well as for myself, you addle-headed idiot!” I -panted; and then I swore at him heartily as he sat on the floor nursing -his helpless hands. - -He was not much behind me in the cursing, his tongue being still -uncrippled. What he called me is not in any gentleman’s word-book, -but I did not lay it up against him. “You have reason, my friend,” I -allowed him, and sat down on the bed’s edge to rest my throat while he -eased the burden of his soul. - -“Well, have you said it all?” I asked, after he had sworn himself out -of breath and doubled up every epithet in the vocabulary of abuse. - -“Damn you for a--” he began again, taking a fresh start; and I laughed -till my strained eyes ran over with the tears and my throat ached -again. The figure of the man, with his darkly ferocious face, sitting -hunched upon the floor, his benumbed hands crossed upon his knees and -his loose-hung jaw wagging like a panting dog’s in a vain effort to -keep pace with the outpouring flood of vituperation, was inexpressibly -mirth-provoking to me, though another might not have found it so. - -But there finally came an end, alike to his ravings and to my laughter, -and we arrived at some better understanding; though not all at once, -you may be sure. - -“Curse you for a deserting traitor, Captain Richard Page! I’ll kill you -for this night’s work, if it’s the last thing I ever live to do!” was -his closing volley. - -“Just as much of a ‘deserting traitor’ as you are, Sergeant Champe; no -more and no less,” I retorted, curbing a mighty desire to laugh at him -again. - -“What’s that?” he growled suspiciously. “I tell you I am a deserter; -Middleton saw me come off.” - -“No one saw me, as it happened,” I rejoined, “though Captain Seytoun’s -watchboat chased and fired upon me. Yet I say it again, John Champe: I -am just as good a deserter as you are, and neither better nor worse. -Moreover, I deserted for the same identical cause that you did.” - -“You lie, Captain Page,” he said quite brutally; but I forgave him. - -“I wouldn’t be above it, Champe--to an enemy, and if there were any -good end to be subserved. But in this instance I am talking to a -friend--you see I can be generous, in spite of your having just tried -to choke the life out of me. You’ll understand when I tell you that I -know your business in New York, and that I am here solely to help you -forward it.” - -That was the moment when I thought he would go chittering crazy with -rage and despair. Disappointment, mad wrath, sharp remorse, bitter -curses directed now at everything he could lay tongue to, boiled out -of him as if he had been a pot hung above the hottest fire that ever -crackled on a housewife’s hearth. - -“Hell and zounds!” he foamed, when he became a little coherent again. -“All the devils in the pit fight for that man! Listen, Captain Page: -this night was our final chance, and on this night of all others -everything was at last in readiness. Major Lee, with a picked troop -from the legion, was in hiding in the wood across the river, and a -boat from the schooner Nancy Jane was to be hanging off and on to come -ashore and take us to the Jersey side.” - -“Go on,” I commanded sharply, though the sharpness was not for poor -Champe; it was for what I foresaw was coming. - -“It was trimmed to the last shaving of a toothpick,” he continued -fiercely. “I knew his custom--to walk late o’ night in the garden. I -had loosened a board in the fence, and we--the one who was to help, and -I--were to seize and bind and gag him, whip him out through the hole in -the fence, and so to the river and the boat.” - -“I see,” I said; and certainly I did see--far more than was pleasant to -contemplate. - -“When it was told me he was going to a rout, I thought our cursed luck -had tripped us again,” Champe went on. “Then I got the order to follow -him, as a guard of honor, I suppose, and here you thrust yourself in, -Captain Page.” - -“No,” I denied; “I was thrust in; but, like yourself, I take it, I was -not sorry to have the chance of keeping him in view. Go on with your -tale.” - -“It is soon told,” he rejoined. “At the mansion house up yonder, having -no orders to wait for his coming out, I ran back to set the trap. Two -freezing hours we lay under the cedars in that hell-fired garden, and -then we saw the lights, and a little farther on we heard the old fox -walking into the trap. But he was not alone, as you know, Captain Page.” - -“How many of you were there?” I asked. - -“Two: one other and myself. The third was on the river bank, signaling -the boat.” - -“You should have killed me out of your way, Sergeant Champe. It was -your plain duty to your country. If we ever get out of this and back to -our own horse-ropes, I shall see you court-martialed for that slip, my -good man.” - -“There were but the two of us, Captain Dick,” he said, giving me the -name my own troop used. - -“Well? How many would you ask for, to put the quietus on one man, and -he armed only with a sword that you did not need to let him lug out of -its sheath?” - -His scowl, which was the natural fashion of his forbidding face, -broadened into a sardonic grin. - -“My fellow under the cedars might have chanced it, since he didn’t know -you. But not I, my bully captain. I know you too well, sir. Before we -could have said ‘Jack Robinson’ you would have had one or both of us -wondering how we came there with so many skin rents to be sewed up.” - -“Not at all,” said I. “I should have been fighting on your side. But, -of course, you couldn’t know that.” - -“No; we couldn’t and didn’t. You know what happened afterward; how -we hid and watched you two going back and forth so near to us that -any time you passed I could have touched you. Once my fellow sneezed, -though he well-nigh burst a blood-vessel trying to stop it. You didn’t -hear it, but Arnold did. Then I thought we should have to run the risk -of your frog-sticker, Captain Dick, whether we liked it or no.” - -“Were you under the evergreens?” - -“Sure enough. You made the circle completely around us. But for my -taking in a leg, you would have stumbled over me.” - -I held up a hand for silence. - -“You are fluenter than I am with the soldier-curses, Champe. Will you -say over a few of the choicest of them for me? All through those two -hours while you were freezing under the evergreens, I was hammering my -brain to invent some way by which I could take Sir Judas with my two -unaided hands. I knew nothing of Major Lee’s dispositions, or of the -boat, or of what you had done; which is pointedly my own fault, since -I should have left everything else to wait and hunted you out before -I ventured to stick my oar in. Certainly you missed the fool-killing -chance of a lifetime, Sergeant, when you failed to run me through with -your bayonet this night!” - -But at this the humaner side of the dark-faced sergeant-major came to -the fore. - -“No, Captain Dick,” he said quite civilly. “It was our crooked luck -again, and some of it was my fault. I took you for what you seemed to -be--this morning, and more than ever, this afternoon and evening when -you had the colors on. But it’s done and over, and there are two of us -to pay the piper instead of one. It’s the devil’s own pickle we are in, -sir, with these coats of ours to tell what we’ll have to do and where -we’ll have to go to-morrow.” - -I thought so, too, and for a little time could do nothing better than -to prop my face in my hands and grill it over back and forth in all its -bitterness. But finally out of the grilling came that fuddle-headed -thought of mine builded on the fumes of the warmed wine and concerning -itself with an assault on Arnold’s house, with men enough to make it -somewhat less than madness. - -Now my own men were far enough away, but, by Champe’s tale, Major Lee -was in hiding somewhere on the Jersey shore; and I knew the mettle of -the major and of the men he commanded. - -“There is hope yet, Sergeant!” I cried, when the idea had fully taken -shape. “Are you hot-blooded enough to go with me where I shall lead?” - -Champe wagged his hands back and forth and stretched the fingers. - -“The feeling is coming back to them,” he said, and then he got up and -signified his readiness. - -I explained my plan to him in low tones, remembering, at this late -dealing of the cards, that Castner had rooms somewhere on this same -floor with us. - -“You say Major Lee has a force in hiding across the river. Good; we’ll -slip out of this, one at a time, scud for the river, and steal a boat. -When we find the major, I shall beg him to lend me a dozen of his -men. If he will do it--and you know him better than I do--we’ll steal -another boat and come back.” - -Champe’s dark eyes were blazing. - -“And we’ll sack the house and take the traitor in his bed!” he -exclaimed. “Captain Dick, if you can put that through, I’ll lie down -and let you walk on me for that neck-wringing I gave you a few minutes -back.” - -“Never mind the choking-match, Jack Champe; get you out of here, and -wait for me in the street. I’ll join you when I’ve pieced my clothes -together on me,” I said; and so it was settled. - -I found Champe waiting when I had sneaked out of the tavern so quietly, -I hoped, as to make my going pass unnoticed. Together we sought the -river bank, and craftily dodging a sleepy sentinel, crept down to the -water’s edge. Luck was with us this time, for before we had gone a -dozen paces along the shore we came upon a small boat riding by a long -chain, and, searching in likely hiding-places under the overhanging -bank, we found the oars. Pieces of my torn waistcoat answered for the -muffling; and in the next passing of the sleepy sentry on the bank -above, we pushed off and rowed lustily for the opposite shore. - -But that one piece of good luck in finding the boat and getting -off unseen exhausted our allotment for the night. Champe’s two -confederates, the one who had been with him in the garden, and the -other who had been standing guard at the river’s edge, had both -disappeared and we knew not where to look for them. In due time we made -a landing on the Jersey side; whereupon we became as helpless as a pair -of babes in the wood. We had no more idea where to look for Major Lee -and his troopers than we should have had if we had been born blind, the -third man in Champe’s plot, the river-edge watcher who was to signal to -the _Nancy Jane’s_ dinghy, and who was afterward to guide the captors, -being the only one who knew. - -None the less, we sought and searched, as those who have lost their -all, using the time recklessly in exploring every stretch of woodland -we could locate in the darkness, and even going so far as to inquire -when we found any one stirring at any of the isolated farm houses. - -It was just before day that we got our clue. A countryman, looking -first askance at our uniforms as his lantern showed us to him, told us -that a troop of dragoons had been all day in the wood above his house, -but that an hour or more ahead of us they had galloped furiously away -on the northward road. - -Champe and I exchanged discouraged glances. That settled it for us, -and when we were out of sight and hearing of the farmer we made some -hurried discussion of what came next on our bill of fare. - -“You must take to the road, worn out as you are, and make your way back -to your regiment, Sergeant,” I said, settling Champe’s course for him -as if I had been his own captain. - -But now his dogged courage seemed to have oozed away. “I can never make -it, Captain Dick. I’d be overhauled as soon as daylight comes, and that -would mean dancing upon nothing for me. They wouldn’t even give me a -soldier’s death.” - -“Pshaw, man!” said I, half angrily. “Being safely out of the town and -this far on the road, you have little to fear.” - -But he only shook his head gloomily, and would not be persuaded, -breaking in upon me, while I was trying to urge him, with a question as -to my own designs. - -I laughed. “I came out to snare Sir Judas,” I told him. “That, and -nothing less, is what I shall do, John Champe, if I follow him to the -ends of the earth.” - -“You’ll be taken and hanged,” said Champe. - -“Not if I can help it, you may be sure. But come; you must decide. -I’m going back, and there is little enough time to do it in, the Lord -knows.” - -He hesitated yet another minute or two and then rose up stiffly from -the log on which he had been sitting. “I’ll go back with you and see it -through,” he declared moodily. - -I tried once again to dissuade him, showing him how he was likely to -have miseries enough as a common soldier in any regiment commanded by -Arnold; showed him further how he would certainly be required to choose -between death at the last and fighting against his country in very deed -and fact. - -But it was all to no purpose. Say what I would, his only reply was a -stubborn repetition: “I’ll go back with you and see it through.” And -when I could get nothing more out of him, we made our way as swiftly -as possible back to our stolen boat, taking to the water a short -half-hour, I should say, before dawn-breaking. - -Our luck, which had left us so promptly after the boat-stealing, -gave us a little glimpse of itself again when we approached the New -York shore. By the merest chance, we took ground within a few feet of -the dangling boat chain, and by chance again, our sleepy sentinel, or -another in his place, was at the other end of his beat when we climbed -cautiously up the bank. - -Once more safely in the town, we separated; Champe to go to his -barracks, and I to steal unobserved into my tavern and up the stair and -so to my room with the unrumpled bed. - -I rumpled the bed duly, in less than two minutes after I had dropped -the door-bar, being fully nine-tenths dead for the want of sleep and -rest. But I had scarcely pulled the covers up before there came a -mighty thundering at the door; and when I went to answer it, I was told -that my general commanded my attendance on the moment--and he had sent -a soldier to do the summoning. - - - - -VIII - -A WALK UP GALLOWS HILL - - -IT nettles me to think that one carrying the name of Page should be -a prey to senseless terror, but the sight of that sour-faced soldier -standing, with his musket at parade, before my door, made me ill. - -Weighing it evenly in a calmer moment, it was not so greatly to be -wondered at. A spy’s life always hangs by the slenderest thread, with -all the world that touches him a den of wild beasts ready to tear him -limb from limb. Besides, I was in the last ditch of weariness and -fatigue and a tired body is next to an empty belly for sapping the -courage. - -But, after all, my soldier caller did not put me under arrest when I -was dressed and ready to go with him. On the contrary, he preceded me -to Arnold’s house, and when I went in, took up his sentry stand before -the entrance, pacing in step with Sir Henry Clinton’s man next door. - -When I climbed the stair and met the man whose escapes of the night -past might have been measured in thicknesses of a hair, the unreasoning -terror gripped me again. Arnold was standing with his back to the door -when I entered, and when he turned to face me he was scowling darkly -and his first question made my heart turn a somersault within me. - -“Where did you go last night, after you left me, Captain Page?” - -“Nowhere,--at once,” I asserted, meaning to stay in the boat of truth -as long as any two planks of it would hold together. “Your thought that -you heard some one in the garden set me to thinking; so I hung off and -on here before the house until I saw your lights go out.” - -“You saw nothing?--heard nothing?” - -“No. The town was as quiet as I dare say it used to be when the -Mynheers snored their nights away in it.” - -“And afterward?” - -“Afterward I went to my quarters in the tavern where Lieutenant Castner -took me,” I continued, making sure that his next question would knock -my boat of truth into splinters, leaving me floundering in a sea of -lies. And, truly, I did not feel equal to such a swimming match with -him, now, with every drop of blood in me nudging its neighbor to keep -awake. - -“You found all quiet at the tavern?” he demanded, fixing me with his -gaze as I have seen a cruel boy pin a fly to the wall. - -“As quiet as a graveyard. The barman was only half awake, and the -waking half of him went to sleep after he had mulled me a cup of wine.” - -“Strange!” he said; and then he fell to walking the floor, and I had -time to catch my breath and to get a fresh grip on myself before he -began again. - -“After your cup of wine, Captain Page? What happened then?” - -“I went up-stairs to the room they had given me. But my sleep was bad.” - -“Ha!” said he; “now we are coming to it. What disturbed you?” - -It was worse than groping in the dark; it was like groping without the -sense of touch to guide me. But I had to go on, though I saw that my -road might easily end on Gallows Hill. - -“First I heard, or dreamed I heard, a noise as of men fighting. A -little later I’m sure I heard a great deal of loud talk and some oaths, -and tramplings in my corridor and on the stair. After that, I was awake -most of the time, I think, but I heard no more of the inn noises.” - -He sat down behind his writing-table and waved me to a chair. - -“Sit down, Captain Page, and you shall have the explanation of all -this,” he said, and the sudden change in his tone relaxed my strain -so violently that I fairly reeled into a chair. “I sent for you thus -early to question you before you had the news from other sources,” he -went on. “Make a note of it, Captain, and when you wish to examine a -witness, get hold of him before his impressions have been distorted out -of shape by his confusing of them with the impressions of others. You -recall what I was saying last night about the Washington plot against -my person?” - -I bowed. - -“I think I owe my liberty, and perhaps my life, to you, Captain Page; -or at least to your presence here up to midnight. There are suspicious -circumstances enough to warrant the belief that a plot was laid -against me, to be sprung last night. I was in hopes that you might -be able to add further information; but your items only confirm the -story of the inn people. They thought, however, that the sounds of the -scuffle came from your room.” - -“If I had been as sound asleep as I needed to be, a battle royal -might have been fought in my room without my knowing it,” I replied, -regaining something of my self-possession. - -“This squabble in the inn seems to have been an aftermath,” he -continued; “possibly”--and here I thought he looked sharply at me -again--“a meeting of the plotters to jangle over their failure. Which -points to a traitor among us, Captain, since there are no suspicious -characters quartering at the tavern whose room could have been used -for a rendezvous. But one thing is certain: one of the janglers was a -soldier of the Loyal American Legion in uniform. A horse-boy saw him -slip into the tavern and go up-stairs.” - -My heart came into my mouth, and, by the bones of all the Pages, I had -to swallow twice to get it down again. Champe was surely skating upon -the thinnest ice that ever held the weight of a man, and if he broke -through, I should be quite as far from the shore as he. - -“But--but the other circumstances, sir,” I prompted, hoping to turn him -back from this aftermath business, as he called it, in the tavern. - -“They are quite conclusive. All day yesterday a troop of rebel -horse was in hiding on the Jersey shore, evidently waiting for some -prearranged event to come off. Late in the evening the schooner _Nancy -Jane_ dropped a boat, manned by a single pair of oars, and then stood -up and down the river for several hours. The dropped boat was seen more -than once by our sentries, and it was always hanging in the tideway at -the same place.” - -“Surely, all this was most suspicious!” I exclaimed, as heartily as I -could. - -“It was; but this was only the groundwork of the plot. You remember the -loose board in the fence at the back of my garden? That board had been -removed for a purpose. Captain. At the very moment when you remarked -it, there were men in the garden waiting their chance to attack me. -They were hidden under the cedars, and it was one of them who coughed -or sneezed loud enough for me to hear him.” - -“Heavens!” I ejaculated. “What a desperately narrow escape you have -had, General Arnold!” - -“I think so myself,” he observed quite coolly. And then, without a sign -or a word of warning, he struck my slowly recovering self-possession -the most treacherous back-blow it ever had. “Captain Page, I owe you -something, as I have admitted. But you must be frank with me. The -soldier who climbed the stair in the tavern last night was Sergeant -Champe, and the door he entered was yours.” - -If I ever have a son, I shall pray God to endow him with an alert -brain, the choicest gift a man can have. If I had hesitated a single -instant as to the course I should pursue, if I had winked a wink too -many or drawn a breath a thousandth part of a second too long--well, -there would have been a midnight walk for me to the top of Gallows Hill -to keep a tryst with some Tory Jack Ketch, with Mistress Beatrix left -to cry her pretty eyes out, if she cared anything for poor Dickie Page. - -But I did none of these fatal things. Instead, I flushed, sought for -the exact face of innocent guilt, and said, “General Arnold, I do most -humbly beg your pardon for deceiving you, though I beg you to believe -that, as far as I went, I told you the precise truth.” Here I let -him see my eyes for long enough to drive that nail well home. “But -beyond the time of my going to bed, I hoped you would not press me too -closely. Champe did come to my room. He had been making a night of it -with some of the other men--their last night ashore--and his temper -even when he is fully sober, is none of the best, as you may have -already observed.” - -He gave me a slow nod, and I went on, gaining a little now in the race -with the hangman, I hoped. - -“He was most quarrelsome and abusive. He had sought me out, it seems, -because he had a drunken notion that I was responsible for your leaving -him outside of Mr. Justice Smith’s house last night, and so exposing -him to the gibes of those horse-boys and others of the regular line -who hate our legion uniform wherever they see it. There was more than -a squabble; it was a pitched battle, and I had to beat a little sober -sense into him before I could quiet him, and even then he went on -babbling foolishness and curses until I was afraid he would have the -house about our ears.” - -“Go on, Captain Page,” said my inquisitor, most grimly non-committal. - -“There is little else to tell you, General Arnold. When I had him -sobered a little, I saw him past the tavern bar and farther in safety; -and when I quitted him I had his promise that he would go to his -barracks and behave himself. I confess I would have kept all this from -you, if I could. John Champe, sober, is as good a soldier as ever -picked a flint, and since I had given him his beating, I thought to -spare him a worse thing. So long as your questions did not touch the -man’s loyalty--or mine--I felt warranted in holding back this tale of -his stumble into the ale-pot. Soldiers will be soldiers, General, and -that officer can get the most out of them who first beats them and then -overlooks their little peccadilloes.” - -I was in cruel doubt for five age-long minutes as to whether I had made -my case or signed my death-warrant. No man was ever better able to hide -his mind behind his face save in his sudden upblazes of passion, than -was this same Benedict Arnold; and when he rose to walk the floor in -gloomy meditation, with his head hanging and his fingers tightly locked -behind him, I lived a dozen lifetimes and could well-nigh feel the hemp -drawing tight around my neck. - -But at the end he let me off with a caution and a veiled threat. - -“You should have two lessons out of this, Captain Page,” he said -at length, stopping abruptly to stand over me. “One is that it is -never worth your while to play fast and loose with me in matters of -information. Make your mind a looking-glass for me, or better still, a -window-pane, for, sooner or later, I shall always be at the bottom of -your profoundest secret. The other lesson is this: your adhesion to the -king’s cause is but a day old. Until it gains a little age and dignity, -it will be well for you to avoid even the appearance of evil.” - -I rose, feeling as any man would who had been given his reprieve after -the black cap had been fairly drawn down over his eyes. - -“I should have known better, General,” I said, feigning the meekest -humility and self-reproach. “And now, sir, if you have orders for me--” - -He broke into my tender of services with the welcomest word I had heard -in many a day. - -“Go to your quarters, Captain Page, and finish the sleep I interrupted. -Your rest has been sufficiently broken of late to justify some -rebellion in nerve and muscle. The embarkation begins to-day, but we -shall do well enough without you.” - -It was not more than ten minutes from this early-morning tight-rope -dance that I once more tumbled into bed in the barn-like upper room at -the tavern, and I was sinking sweetly into the lap of the goddess whose -charms we never appreciate until a wakeful night or two makes them -precious, when I started up with a cold sweat breaking out in a frost -rime all over me. In all the tight-rope business, I had never once -thought of Arnold’s questioning Champe, or of how little any story of -his would be likely to fit in with mine! - -If my stripping for bed had been swift, the reversal of the process -left the disrobing as far behind as if it were a tortoise racing the -fleetest hound that ever gave tongue on fox’s scent. In frantic haste -I dressed and left the inn and made my way to the legion barracks. -The embarkation had already begun, they told me, and when I mentioned -Champe’s company, it was added that it had gone aboard among the first. - -On the face of it, this seemed as if it might be a danger past, but I -thought it best to make assurance doubly sure and to that end dragged -my weary legs down to the boat-landing where the lighters were putting -off to the ships. - -It was well indeed that I took this final precaution. Not a stone’s -throw from the landing I met Champe, that minute come ashore in one of -the returning boats on a peremptory summons from Arnold. Beckoning him -aside, I told him hurriedly what was before him, and drilled him upon -the story I had invented till he begged for mercy and swore he could -say it backward. - -That was all very well, but I have learned that a cat killed is a cat -safely dead only after it is well buried, with the earth tramped down -solidly upon it. So, when I had kept sight of Champe until Arnold’s -door opened to swallow him, I found a spying place and watched--and had -no trouble in keeping awake, either, I promise you--until I saw him -come out again. - -He gave me the countersign in passing, as he was on his way back to his -ship. It was only a single word, “Hoodwinked,” but it lifted a load -from my shoulders that was all but crushing me; lifted the load and -let me, for the third time that morning, seek the bed that seemed to -have a spiteful grudge against a weary soldier of fortune. - -This time there were no cold-sweat alarms to snatch me from the brink, -and when next I opened my eyes, the room was dark, and I knew not what -day or night of the week it was. - - - - -IX - -IN WHICH I PAY A DUTY CALL - - -CASTNER was at the supper-table in the tavern common-room when I went -up-stairs, and I found that I had slept the clock only once around. -To my surprise, the lieutenant was wearing a uniform to match my own, -and I saw now why he had been so sore at my pointless joke. He was -to accompany the Arnold expedition; and I was not long in divining -the reason when he told me sourly that he had been detailed to act as -aide to General Arnold. For all he had paid good king’s gold and a -commission in the king’s army for his prize traitor, Sir Henry Clinton -was afraid to trust him, and my friend Castner was going along as a -sort of amiable spy in Arnold’s military household. - -“You don’t seem to take your promotion very joyfully,” I laughed, -drawing a chair opposite and sitting down to help him with the cold -roast. - -“It’s a dirty business,” he blurted out; and then he shut his mouth on -his meat and I was left to guess whether he meant his own sending, or -the proposed descent of an armed force upon a defenseless coast. - -A little later three or four other officers came in for their suppers, -among them Major Simcoe, who had commanded the Queen’s Rangers at -Germantown. Their talk, which comfortably ignored me either as a -deserter and as beneath their notice, or as an untried recruit, turned -upon the ship expedition and the secret of its destination, which -latter seemed to have been well guarded, inasmuch as none of those -present appeared to know where the fleet would cast anchor. - -I surmised that Major Simcoe’s ignorance was assumed, however. He was -deep in the counsels of Sir Henry Clinton, and was a well-trusted -officer. I noticed that he kept his face pretty well in his plate and -joined in the conversation only as he had to, letting the younger men -keep the ball rolling. - -From this table talk I learned that the work of putting the troops and -stores aboard the ships had been going on all day, and was likely to -dig deep into the night, though when the actual sailing order was to be -given, did not appear. I was concerned about this on only one point, -namely, the hope that there might be time for a visit, hurried or -otherwise, to the house where I had seen Margaret Shippen’s face at the -door and Beatrix Leigh’s at the upper window. - -What excuse I should have for intruding into a house whose owner’s -name, even, was still unknown to me, I could not imagine. But that the -thing must be compassed admitted of no question. After what I had done -in Mr. Justice Smith’s glass-roofed rose-house, I should be either a -knave or a coward to run away in silence. Moreover, I had not learned -why Mistress Beatrix was in New York, or how long she meant to stay, -or any of the hundred things her presence at the Smith mansion had put -question-marks after. - -From what I heard at the supper-table, I judged my time was short. It -was Major Simcoe who said that when the troops were all embarked, the -officers would have shore leave only until the ebb tide would serve to -let the ships drop down the bay. It was here that I ventured to ask -about the wind, and if it were favorable; and the major said it was -not, but that the fleet would come to anchor in the lower bay to wait -for it. - -It was while we were still at table that an orderly came with a summons -for me. I was to report to Arnold at my earliest convenience,--I marked -the word and took courage from it,--and I might delay so long as would -be necessary to make all my preparations for going aboard beforehand, -to the end that I should not be obliged to return to the tavern later -on if time pressed. - -I showed Arnold’s note to Castner, and the lieutenant very kindly -offered to expedite my affair by looking after my impedimenta; which -was light enough, since I had only the clothes I stood in, the -civilian’s suit I had bought of the Dutch Jew, and my patriot homespun. -I was the more willing to turn Castner loose in my room for the packing -up, because there were no papers, plans of fortifications or any other -spy’s death-sentences for him to stumble on, and it lent a fine air of -sincerity to my new pledge to give him my keys and to tell him to take -or leave what he chose. - -This left me free to accompany the orderly who had brought Arnold’s -note, and the young man, a fine young gentleman who was a son of that -Colonel Hetheridge who was killed at the battle of Monmouth, walked -with me to the door of Arnold’s quarters. - -I found the traitor busily writing, as he seemed always to be at my -entrances. And, as on a former occasion, he waved me to a chair and -went on pushing the quill like a regimental clerk who had got behind in -his records. When he had folded, sealed and superscribed his letter, -he turned to me, and I saw that Sergeant-Major Champe had not failed -either himself or me in the cross-questioning of the early morning. - -“You are quite refreshed, Captain Page?” he began most kindly; and -again I caught myself wishing that he would not so persistently show me -the likeable side of him. “You are fortunate in having no family ties -to break when we turn our backs upon New York. Will you take it as an -older man’s weakness if I say that I shall leave my heart behind me -when we sail, Captain Page?” - -I said that his sentiment did him honor; adding that I had once had the -pleasure of meeting Mistress Arnold while she was yet Mistress Margaret -Shippen in Philadelphia. - -“A dear lady, with a heart of pure gold,” he said half musingly. And -then more pointedly to me: “She remembers you, Captain--which is the -chief reason why I am going to let you be the bearer of this farewell -note of mine. You can find the house again?” - -“Surely,” I replied; and for the instant I forgot my sworn purpose in -sudden gratitude to him for putting me so easily and naturally on the -way to a fulfilment of my own desires. - -“She will see you--as she might not wish to see another,” he continued. -“Tell her only cheerful things, Captain Page. Though she does not -know our destination or our purposes, she is weighed down with a -presentiment of evil to come. That is why I am writing and sending you. -There are limits to the sternest fortitude, and I--” - -He broke off abruptly, and I could have sworn there were honest tears -in his eyes. But by this time I was clinging blindly to the kidnapping -purpose that was my only reason for the present hazards, telling myself -if that should fail I should see another side of him soon enough, when -he should be leading his ravages against my home land. At twenty-two -I had yet to learn that no man, however despicable he may be, is all -villain; that there will be some meliorating drop of blood in the worst -criminal that was ever righteously hanged for his sins. - -Notwithstanding, some inkling of this was beginning to dawn on me, and -like a voice out of the air Colonel Hamilton’s words came back to me -“--But to go as you must go, and use guile and subterfuge ... truly, -Captain Page, you must sort this out for yourself; to determine how far -in such a cause an officer and a man of honor may go. I lay no commands -upon you.” I was thinking hard, trying to do as Mr. Hamilton had given -me leave to do: to determine how far a decent sense of honor would let -me go, when Arnold’s voice broke into my reverie. - -“You will go with the letter, and take your own time--so much time as -she shall require of you,” he directed, giving me the sealed packet. -“If you should not find me on your return, Lieutenant Castner will meet -you at the shipping wharf and assign you to your vessel.” - -This was my dismissal, and I took it gladly for more than one reason. -I hoped I should never see this man again until I could more honestly -hate him as he deserved--another wish for which I was to pray God’s -forgiveness in the time to come. - -The streets were quiet as I took my solitary way through them, and -over the fort the sky was reddened as if a bonfire were burning -on the parade ground. Passing the green I saw the pedestal upon -which the lead-gilt equestrian statue of King George had stood, the -statue that the men of ’76 had pulled down in their jubilation over -the promulgation of the Declaration of Independence, and which had -afterward been melted into bullets to be fired at this same Third -George’s soldiery. - -My way also led past the gloomy sugar-house prison where, in the -frightful summer of ’77, so many patriots were confined that not a -third of them could get breathing space at the deep port-hole windows; -where our brave fellows stayed and rotted and died a dozen in the day -rather than purchase their freedom by enrolling themselves in the -king’s army, as they were given leave to do. - -The sight of the grim, fortress-like stone building, and the thought -of the torments for which it stood as a reminder, put me in a sterner -frame of mind toward our enemies and went far toward excusing the -double-faced part I found myself compelled to play. Yet I tried to -hold myself sufficiently aloof so that I should not visit the sins of -the husband, and of those men who had suborned him, upon the sorrowful -woman I was going to see. - -Having been twice over the route in daytime, and twice at night, I had -no difficulty in finding the house which sheltered Arnold’s wife and -child. A negro house-servant opened to my knock, and upon my asking for -Mistress Arnold, admitted me, though not too willingly I fancied. Once -indoors, I was shown to a richly furnished room opening off the hall, -and was told to warm myself at the fire while the lady was making ready -to see me. - -I meant to have my duty over with first, and then to see Beatrix -afterward, if anything short of force would secure me a sight of -her. But as to that, it seemed only fair to borrow a little of the -probabilities. If I could make my standing good with Mistress Margaret -Shippen, I might be able to persuade her to act as my intercessor. - -The lady, whose name was on the letter I carried, did not keep me -waiting long: and coming, she entered the room so quietly that she -surprised me sprawling like a mannerless trooper before the fire; for -which I quickly begged her pardon when I found my feet and made my -best bow. Whereupon she was good enough to give me her hand like an -old acquaintance, and to say that we poor soldiers had little enough -comfort to be denied the ease a cheerful fire afforded. - -At this I handed her the letter and she sat down to read it. I gave -her all the privacy there was, staring so hard into the heart of the -blazing logs, and thinking so pointedly of my own love-affair that I -did not know when she finished. - -“This is your night for sailing, Captain Page?” she asked gently, and -her low voice called me back suddenly from the love-dream backgrounded -by the mellowing fire. - -I said it was; and after that she sat for a long time gazing with me -into the glowing embers. When she began to speak again, I knew why she -had hesitated. - -“Your place is to be near General Arnold, isn’t it, Mr. Page?” she -asked, saying it as one who feels the way carefully. - -“I hope so,” I replied, hating myself for saying the double-meaning -words for her ears. Then I added: “I am still detached; I have no -command; and Mr.---the general--is having me serve as his aide while we -are here in New York.” - -“Yes,” she said quietly. “He promised me you should be near him.” And -then I knew who was the “unimpeachable authority” and that she had -vouched for me, and was straightway humbled and made horribly ashamed -and remorseful. - -“You spoke for me? You should not have done that, dear lady,” I said -quickly. So much, at least, I owed to common manhood, I thought. - -“And why not, pray? If you could know, Mr. Page, how it comforts me -to have the assurance that General Arnold has at least one honorable -gentleman near him--” - -“Good heavens, madam!” I ejaculated, forgetting all prudence in the -smarting of her unconscious stab; “you take a frightful risk in -recommending any one in these uncertain times, and especially one who -is himself a forsworn--” I stopped in mid-career, remembering that I -was treading upon doubly dangerous ground in thus pointing out my own -unfitness to the woman who was the wife of the chief forswearer of his -age. - -“Ah, you are modest, Mr. Page,” she said, being so good and gentle -herself as to be unable to see guile in others. And then she added: -“You must not try to draw me into the King-and-Congress of it. I used -to think I could know and take sides; but now I leave those things to -others, and try to rise above them. When this bitter war is over and -become a thing of the past, we shall see more clearly than we do now.” - -“I would to God it were over at this moment,” I rejoined gloomily. - -“I can credit you in that wish: though you are young and eager and a -soldier, Mr. Page. War is a very terrible thing, full of peril and -danger to those we love; full of weary heart-strainings for us poor -women who can only stand and wait. You will serve the general well, -will you not, Captain Page?”--this most wistfully. - -This time I could have cried out with the pain it gave me to deceive -this dear lady. Here was a thing I had never bargained for, even in my -wildest imaginings of the crookings and turnings of the way into which -I had set my feet. And now, again, Mr. Hamilton’s qualifying words came -back to me. How much farther could I go and have any semblance of -honor left? But Mistress Margaret was waiting for her answer, and I am -glad she can never know what it cost me to give it. - -“I shall not serve the general any the less faithfully for any word you -have spoken, be assured, dear madam,” I said, descending once more, and -still more reluctantly, to the despicable double meanings. - -“I shall sleep the easier for that assurance,” she said warmly, flaying -me afresh; and then continuing with the sweet archness of the Margaret -Shippen I had met in her father’s home: “I know you, Captain, better -than you know me--having Beatrix Leigh for a fellow guest under this -same roof.” - -“Mistress Beatrix would never say a word for me,” I blurted out. - -“Oh, no; certainly not for you in person,” was the half-quizzical -retort. “But for your family. One would think, to hear her talk, that -the Pages,--always excepting yourself, of course, Mr. Richard,--were -the lords of the manor and the first gentlemen of Virginia. I promise -you, she has given you a name to live up to.” - -Now was my time, and I did not let the opportunity slip. - -“I wish she might be prevailed upon to give me a little sight of -herself--for my leave-taking--Mistress Arnold. Could you--would you--” - -She was shaking her head in despair--mock or real, I could not tell -which. - -“You are a most blundering lover, Captain,” she protested. “After I had -plotted and planned to persuade her to show herself at Mr. Justice -Smith’s last night--she didn’t want to, I assure you; she is such a -spiteful little patriot--after all that, and my telling the general he -must bring you; then you go and say or do something that sends her to -me in a perfect passion, telling me one moment that she hates you, and -the next that she will die of shame and misery. What did you do, Mr. -Page? I am curious to know.” - -“What did I do? Why, Mistress Margaret, I--that is, I--I asked her how -she did, and--” I was as tongue-tied as a schoolboy trying to say his -first piece. - -“I think you must have,” she said, demurely. “Beatrix is just the -person to fly into a rage because you asked her how she did.” - -I went dumb at this, but my desire was just as clamorous none the -less. So, after we had looked the fire out of countenance for another -minute or two, I essayed again. “Think of it, Mistress Margaret; it is -desperate hard for me to be this near to her--and on the verge of going -to I know not what fate--and not to have a chance to--to--” - -“Oh, you young lovers!” she smiled. “Here you are writhing and -prickling to have me go, Mr. Richard Page--to be quit of me--and yet -you are in a terrible fright lest I should go without promising to -send Beatrix to you. Well, I’ll go; but I shan’t promise you she will -come--even for a farewell sight of your handsome face and soldierly -figure. Stay where you are for ten minutes by the clock. If she does -not come by that time, you will have to think on your sins, whatever -they may be, and go without your leave-taking.” - -I said I would wait, and thanked her, and felt, when she gave me -her hand again for her own leave-taking, as if I were twice the -hypocritical villain her husband had ever dared to be. - -When she was gone, and I had walked the floor of that pretty room a -full half-hour, as it seemed to me, I fell to wondering how her mere -mention of the time could make the tall clock in the corner go on -wagging its pendulum in sly malice while its hands made hours of the -minutes. We speak of killing time: I could have wrecked that lying -time-piece more than once, and was, I think, standing before it and -shaking my fist in its brazen face, when I first heard the hesitant -opening of the door. - -No, it was not Mistress Margaret, coming back to tell me she had -failed. It was Beatrix, and she had waited thus long so that she might -curve her lip and train her eyes to flash and look me down, as I had -seen her go and hide herself to do many a time when we were children -together and had quarreled, as children will. - -“Well?” she said, much as she had said it the night before, when she -had come into the glass rose-house to make me think she despised me. - -“I have come to bid you good-by,” I told her, picking out the most -inane word that came to hand. And she would not let even that poor word -stand. - -“No,” she contradicted; “you came to bring a letter for Margaret. You -came to fetch and carry for that dreadful man--as his lackey!”--and -here the beautiful eyes burnt me, they were so indignant hot. - -“I should have come anyhow,” I asserted. “But I was glad to bring -Mistress Margaret her letter: that was a service to her rather than to -Mr. Arnold.” - -“Call him ‘General,’ Mr. Page; he is your general, isn’t he?” she -scoffed. - -“So he says, and so he thinks, and so I call him, when I have to. -But you must not think, because I am wearing this coat, that I am -over-proud of it, or of my service in what we have lately been calling -the ‘Traitors’ Legion,’ on the other side of the Neutral Ground.” - -“Then, why are you in it?” she demanded. “Why, why, _why_?” - -“It is a long story,” I stammered, “and there is less time for telling -it now than there was last night. But tell me; how is it that you are -here in New York, when I thought you were safe in Virginia?” - -“It is a long story,” she mimicked, “and there is less time for telling -it now than there was last night, Mr. Richard Page.” - -“But I shall stay until I have heard it,” I retorted hardily. - -“Oh, if I must ask Mistress Vandeventer to give you the guest-room -otherwise, you may know; there is no such mighty mystery about _my_ -goings and comings,” she said, with a toss of the pretty head. “There -was a ship-load of the Leigh tobacco snapped up by one of the British -ships and brought here as a prize. But word came to us at Sevenoaks -through good Mr.--no, on second thought, I won’t tell you our friend’s -name--through a gentleman of Philadelphia, that it could be ransomed -if any Leigh were bold enough to venture for it. There was no one else -to venture, so I came. And I have got my prize redeemed, and I am going -home again in a few days, or as soon as Cousin Julianna Pettus comes -from Philadelphia to sail with me. There now--make the most of it, Mr. -Turncoat British-officer Page! Or will you turn traitor to me, too, and -have my father’s tobacco seized again?” - -It was all very hard; doubly hard now, because my mission, which only a -day earlier had held out hopes of a speedy despatching, now stretched -out into an indefinite future, and was by so much the more unspeakable -to her or to any living soul. But I set her mind at rest about the -retrieved tobacco; if, indeed, she thought so small of me as to suspect -for a moment that, even as a turncoat, I would turn informer. - -“I am no exciseman, whatever else you have written against me in your -black books,” I said, and if half the gloom I felt was in the words, -she should have pitied me. - -Perhaps she did, for from standing, she took the chair lately occupied -by Margaret Shippen, and nodded me airily to my own. - -“I must not forget my manners, even if Mr. Page does sometimes forget -his,” was her wording of the permission to sit beside her. - -Now that ravished kiss of the night before sat lightly on my heart, -but not so easily on my conscience. God knows, my love for her was big -enough to excuse the loving violence ten times over; but it stuck in -my throat that, but for my imminent peril, I might not have had the -courage to do it. Confession was the thing; but how could I confess -enough without confessing too much? - -“I came here to-night to beg your forgiveness, Beatrix,” I began, -plunging into the middle of the thing because there was no guide-post -to show me any beaten highway leading up to it. - -She did not pretend to misunderstand. - -“Oh; so you are properly ashamed, are you? I think you should be, -Richard Page!” - -“No, not ashamed: but I shall be sore-hearted if I have to go away and -leave you angry at me. But are you angry, Beatrix?” - -“Desperately.” - -“Would anything I could say--” - -“Nothing, sir.” - -“Not if I tell you that--” I paused on the brink of the horridest -chasm that ever opened before a halting lover in this world of lovers’ -pitfalls. If I confessed that the kiss saved my life--as well it -may have--how could I make her understand--but I could never make -her understand. She would hold me as the paltriest coward that ever -breathed if I should so much as hint at the thing which had given me -the kissing courage at that perilous moment. - -“What could you tell me, if you were so disposed, Mr. Page?” she asked, -and now I thought the sarcasm was only half-hearted. - -“I could tell you what I have told you a hundred times before, Beatrix; -that I love you: that I am never near you without having to fight most -desperately for even decent self-control.” - -“But I do not love you, Dick Page.” - -I jerked my chair around to face her. - -“Is it because you do love Seytoun?” I demanded, full of jealous wrath -in an instant. - -“Foolish boy! Do you say that because I won’t let you quarrel with -Captain Seytoun? There may be better reasons why I wish you to keep the -peace in that quarter, sir.” - -“Yet you say you do not love me?” - -“I don’t, Mr. Richard Page--not in the coat you are wearing.” - -My arms went out to her, and she moved her chair well out of my reach -before she went on. - -“No; don’t assume that the coat is a little thing, lightly to be -ignored. It is not, for a Leigh. I shall gladly die a spinster before -I’ll ever wed it, I do assure you, Dick.” - -All this time she was looking steadily into the fire, and I was -wondering where her heart-broken sorrow of the night before had gone. -But it came, even while I was seeking for words in which to hint that -my present Judas-coat might not always stand between us; the trembling -of the sweet lips, the welling up of the tears. - -“Oh, what madness possessed you, Dick?” she wailed; “you, who were the -bravest, the most devoted, the most cheerful when all was darkest!” - -I rose and settled my sword-belt. There was more love-violence ahead -if I should stay; that, and the certain breaking of my promise to Mr. -Hamilton. - -“I have greatly overstayed my time; I must go, Beatrix, dear,” I said, -and I scarcely knew the sound of my own voice. And when she rose, I -caught her in my arms before she could escape. “Kiss me, sweetheart, -and bid me God-speed,” I begged. - -“For a boon, I will, Captain Page,” she said quickly, holding herself -at arm’s length; and now, though her eyes were still wet, she was not -weeping. “Tell me where this expedition of yours will land!” - -Now that was something I could and would tell her gladly. But when -my mouth was open to let the words out, she came close and put her -hand over my lips, and hid her face against that cursed coat of -double-dealing, saying with a half sob: “Oh, no, no! I would have made -you turn traitor again! Kiss me, Dick, and go--go quickly. I--” - -She was faint and dizzy--my strong one!--when I led her gently to a -cushioned settee and made her lie down with a pillow at her head. Then -I sent the negro hallman up for Margaret Shippen; and when Mistress -Arnold came hurriedly, I went away, softly, and with a heart that was -strangely light and tender. For now I knew that I need not kill Captain -Seytoun for any chance he stood to take my darling from me. - - - - -X - -IN WHICH A WALL HAS EARS - - -THE red bonfire glow tinting the sky over the parade ground of Fort -George had faded into the night when I won back to the lower town. -Passing the sentries on the outer scarp of the fort I made my way -down to the water-front to look for Castner, and to get my embarking -directions. - -At the landing-stage, which was lighted by a pair of cresset torches -flaring gustily on stakes thrust into the ground, I found the -lieutenant. He was forwarding the last few boat-loads of stragglers, -and while he busied himself with orders to the ensigns in command of -the ships’ boats, I had speech with the quartermaster of the fort -garrison, who told me that the greater part of the expeditionary fleet -was already standing down the bay. - -But Castner had other news for me when he was free to impart it; news -which set me aflame with fresh invention fires. - -“Good evening to you again, Captain Page,” he said, when he lounged up -from the despatching of the last of the boats. “Did you come by the -headquarters on your way?” - -“No,” said I. “I went on a mission for General Arnold in the town and -was told to come directly here.” - -“We are delayed,” he announced, not very regretfully I thought. “At the -last moment orders came from Sir Henry Clinton detaching our convoy -frigate and two of the sloops of war for temporary service elsewhere. -The troop fleet is to wait in the lower bay for the return of the three -men-of-war, and all officers not on service duty have shore leave -during the interval. How does that set with you?” - -It was the part of prudence to let the news appear to be a matter of -indifference to me, and I answered accordingly. - -“A soldier should be prepared for anything; and I’ll dare say -the tavern is a fairly good inn--far better than the cabin of an -ill-smelling fishing schooner. I thank heaven I have no active command -to send me down the bay with the musket men.” - -Castner grinned. “I’ve been picking some comfort out of that in my -own case,” he admitted. “Do you go back to Mr. Ar--to the general’s -quarters?” - -I told him I should not, if he would be good enough to report me: that -I should go across to the tavern to retake my room, where I might be -found if there were any further orders for me. And so we parted at the -northwestern angle of the fort, and I was glad to be alone. For now -the book of the kidnapping possibilities was suddenly reopened, and my -brain was busy with a thousand desperate plots all weaving themselves -upon this most opportune delaying of the expedition. - -Wanting nothing so much as a chance to let my mind shuttle connectedly -among the plot threads, I shunned the tavern and kept on around the -northern and eastern escarpment of the fort until I found myself once -more approaching the waterside and the landing-place with its two smoky -torches still flaring in the wind. The spot was deserted, though it -was so close under the guns of the fort that I could hear the tread of -the sentinel as he paced back and forth behind the screen of the outer -ravelin. - -Hearing my footsteps, the sentry stopped and would have challenged me, -I suppose, if his attention had not been drawn at the same minute to -a ship’s small boat which was approaching the landing. His challenge -went for that, instead, and when I heard the answer I stood quickly -aside and waited for what should follow. For, by all the good luck that -ever fell upon a perplexed and half-desperate plotter, the man who -stepped from the stern-sheets of the small boat and made answer to the -challenging sentry was none other than my fellow conspirator, Sergeant -Champe. - -“A courier from the fleet, with letters for General Arnold,” was his -reply to the fort’s watch-dog; and when he had taken the few strides -necessary to carry him out of earshot from the ravelin and from the -two sailors in his boat, I waylaid him, telling him in twenty words -how fortune--and Sir Henry Clinton--had given us one more chance to -retrieve ourselves. - -“Plot for it, then,” was his gloomy response. “I see nothing beyond my -going back to the ships presently with the answer to the letter I’m -carrying.” - -“That you shall not do,” I replied hastily. “We must think up some -excuse to keep you ashore. Leave that to me and go on your errand. I’ll -wait for you here and have my plan ready against your return.” - -The plan, decided on in a half-hour’s chilly marching back and forth -across the green while I waited for Champe to come back, was not -very complicated. When the sergeant made his appearance I took the -despatches and sent him over to the tavern to reengage my room for me, -telling him to pose as my soldier-servant therein. Meanwhile, I told -him, I would take his place as Arnold’s courier, and it would go hard -with me if I should not account for his detention on shore when I could -have speech with those on shipboard who had sent him. - -Passing on to the landing-place in my new character of despatch -carrier, I found the sailors willing enough to exchange the sergeant -they had brought ashore for a captain; and at my order to give way, -they pulled off to one of the rear-guard vessels of the fleet, where, -to my dismay, I found I had to deal with Major Simcoe, whose letters to -Arnold had been the despatches carried ashore by Champe. - -Quite naturally, the major’s first question was for his messenger, and -I was glad that the light of the ship’s lantern was so poor that he -could not see my involuntary recoil when I saw who it was with whom I -had to fence. - -“I am General Arnold’s aide,” I replied guardedly. “Were you expecting -some one else, Major Simcoe?” - -“I sent a man from the Loyal American detail on board, a sergeant -named Champe,” he explained. “Did he return with you, Captain?” - -“No. Possibly the general made other use of him,” I suggested. - -“Possibly,” said the major, eying me shrewdly from beneath his bushy -brows. “But in that case he must have changed his mind after this -letter was sent. You will see that it is superscribed to me ‘By the -hands of Sergeant Champe,’” and he held the letter so that I might read -the writing on the back. - -There was no help save in a stout lie quickly told; and even this might -have disastrous after-consequences if the major should come ashore -later on and follow it up. - -“General Arnold is my superior officer, and I do not presume to -question his reasons for writing another man’s name on the letter which -he gives me to deliver, Major Simcoe,” I said boldly, adding, with -even greater impudence: “If you do not wish to receive the general’s -despatches at my hands, let me have them again and I’ll so report to -General Arnold.” - -“Oh, there is no need for any heat about it, Captain Page,” was his -even-toned retort. “Only, when you go ashore, I shall be glad if you -will look up my sergeant and send him off to me. You shall have the -boat’s crew as long as may be necessary.” - -Now this was not satisfactory, either, since it made me responsible for -the boat’s crew, and, indirectly, for Champe’s return. So I took the -high-and-mighty stand again. - -“Egad, Major Simcoe,” I protested, “I’m afraid you will have to hold -me excused. General Arnold would not be greatly pleased to have one of -his aides detailed by you to bring in your stragglers.” - -At this the doughty major came close and looked me in the eyes as the -poor light would let him. - -“Hark you, Captain Page,” he said, speaking so those who stood about -should not hear; “you seem bent on quarreling with me when there -is no need for it. That is your privilege, sir, and if you were a -king’s officer I should be the last man in the army to deny you. As -it is--well, a polite word or two may go far with a gentleman in your -situation, and I wonder you are so slow in perceiving it. Now, sir, -will you report to the general in command that I am short a sergeant, -and that I shall be greatly pleased to have the proper steps taken to -find and send him off to me?” - -If there is one good quality above another in the Page make-up it is -the instant knowledge of the precise moment when the trumpet should -sound the retreat. I saw now that I had taken the wrong tack with the -tart major, and that I must butter him well if I wished to come off -without loss. - -“Saying nothing of your allusions, Major Simcoe,--which we may well -take up at some other time and place,--I beg your pardon on the -sergeant’s account,” I said, with no more than the proper touch of -offended dignity. “You put me upon my mettle, seeming to question my -right to bring you a letter--which you may take as the reason why I did -not tell you plainly in the beginning that Champe was sent upon another -errand after your letter had been written and superscribed. I am sure -you do not question the commanding general’s right to use a warrant -officer of his own legion as he sees fit.” - -“I beg your pardon, Captain Page,” said the major crisply. “I am -a soldier, sir, and I was thinking only of the man’s possible -disobedience. Of course, if Mr. Ar--if the general required him, I have -nothing more to say,” and he drew aside and read his letter. - -Now I had another twinge or two to suffer while I waited, for fear -Arnold might possibly have made some mention of Champe in the letter. -But in a minute or two the major turned and gave me my dismissal quite -courteously, telling me that there was no answer other than to convey -his duty to the commanding officer, and to say, if it came in my way, -that he, Major Simcoe, would report at the headquarters sometime during -the following day--a thing I prayed my good angel to prevent, if it -could be done without setting the entire cosmic plan of the universe -ajee. - -Having thus been given leave to vanish, I made good use of it before -any other untoward thing should happen; and with a coin apiece for my -two sailor oarsmen at the landing, I answered the sentry challenge from -the fort and made my way swiftly to the tavern. - -Here I learned that my portmanteau had not been taken away, and that -a soldier, calling himself my servant, was waiting for me in the room -above. Meaning to give the Royalist barman no chance to think that I -cared a rap about any common soldier who might be sitting up for me, I -ordered a cup of wine and a pipe of tobacco, and sat quietly before the -fire in the supper-room, sipping the one and smoking the other for a -full half-hour before paying my score and going above-stairs. - -In the barn-like room Champe was improving the interval soldier-wise; -which is to say that he had taken the covers from my bed, rolled -himself in them, and was sound asleep on the floor. He roused at my -incoming, however, and was broad awake by the time I had thrown a log -on the smoldering fire he had made. - -“Well, and how did you carry it off with the major?” he asked when he -had rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. - -“Not so handsomely as I should have, had you told me it was Major -Simcoe I should have to hoodwink,” I retorted. “But you are safe for -the time being--which means until Major Simcoe and Arnold meet each -other and fall to comparing notes.” - -“And then?” queried my sergeant. - -“Then Simcoe will learn that I have lied to him, and Arnold may not -be able to remember that he sent you on an errand that prevented your -return to the ship with his letter to the major,” I rejoined shortly. - -“Which means that we have purchased--how many hours, Captain Dick?” - -“God knows; and I do not. But we must make the most of what time we -have. No one seems to know where our convoy ships of war have gone, or -when they are to return. But with the fleet waiting in the lower bay, -the interval can not be long. What we do, we must do quickly.” - -“Aye,” said Champe; “and what will that be?” - -I had been culling the plots out patiently ever since Castner’s -announcement of the delay had set them weaving, and now there was but -one that offered any promise of success--and that a desperate one. With -the uncertain time-factor we had to count on, it was useless to think -of trying to get word to Major Lee in the camp at Tappan. What we did -must be done without help from the outside; and upon this hard-and-fast -pivot the temerarious enterprise must be made to turn. - -“What we thought we might accomplish with a corporal’s guard of Major -Lee’s men to help us, we must still do, and do it with our hands, John -Champe,” I said. - -“Take him forcibly in his house, you mean?” - -I nodded. - -“I’m with you, Captain Dick,” was the stout sergeant’s rejoinder. “But -afterward?” - -“That is what it may take us all the time we have, and maybe more, to -provide for. The river is our only way out, and we must have a boat, -the lightest and swiftest we can find. Do you pull an oar, Sergeant?” - -“No so comfortably as I do a bridle rein. But I shall make out when it -comes to that. What is your plan?--or have you drawn any picture of it -in your mind?” - -“It is as simple as knocking a beef yearling in the head with a stone,” -I admitted, nettled that I could contrive nothing subtler. “We find -our boat, beg, buy or steal it, and place it as near at hand as may be -convenient. That done, we lay hands on Sir Judas, sleeping or waking, -and then for the river and a long pull with the tide or against it, as -fortune chances to smile or frown upon us in fixing the hour.” - -“Aye,” said Champe, quite without enthusiasm, “it’s surely simple -enough, Captain Dick.” - -“Think of a better, then,” I snapped curtly. - -The sergeant let me have another sight of his ferocious grin. - -“I’ve had my turn of thinking, and it’s you for it now,” he retorted. -“I might say that you put your foot squarely into my think-trap and -stopped it from going off, but I shan’t. You’ll give the order, Captain -Dick, and I’ll obey it, if it tells me to cut Mr. Benedict Iscariot’s -throat while he is asleep.” - -After that we were silent for a time, both of us weighing and measuring -the hazards of the desperate game, I think. Champe still kept his place -on the floor, sitting jack-knifed with his hands locked over his knees -and his wide-opened eyes staring at nothing. Suddenly, as I was opening -my mouth to ask where we were likely to find our boat, he laid a hand -on my knee and shook his head. - -“What is it?” I asked, but only with my eyes. - -“There is some one stirring in the room beyond,” he said in a -half-whisper. “Who is your neighbor, Captain Dick?” - -Matching his tone, I said that I knew none of my fellow lodgers -save Lieutenant Castner, and that I did not know the placing of the -lieutenant’s room. - -“We were full careless,” said my companion. And then he got upon -his feet with no more noise than a cat would have made and suddenly -extinguished the candle. The firelight still flung long shadows about -the room, and in the shelter of the broadest of them Champe glided away -to the wall of suspicion and examined it foot by foot with scrutinizing -eyes and gently gliding finger-tips. When he crept back to me he was -holding out a forefinger the end of which was whitened with powdered -lime. - -“That tells the tale,” he whispered. “There’s a whiff of this dust on -the floor, and above it, at the height of a man’s head, a peep-hole the -size of a goose-quill. We must know who is in that room, Captain Dick.” - -Here was a crude peril at the very outset of things; but what the -sergeant said was very true. We must know who our spy was at all costs. -Taking off our shoes we passed silently into the corridor and found -the neighboring door by feeling cautiously for it in the dark. It was -on the latch, and after listening breathlessly for a full minute we -opened the door by slow inchings and listened again. Still there was no -sound, and now we entered the room, groping blindly, first for impeding -obstacles and then for the bed where our spy might be feigning sleep. - -In this noiseless circuiting Champe went to the right and I to the -left, and we met in the far corner where the high, four-posted bed -filled a sort of alcove built to contain it. Then I think we both drew -breath of relief, for the bed was empty. - -“Wait for me,” whispered my companion; and when he returned a little -later he had relighted our candle and was carrying it high above his -head. - -But the candle told us nothing more than our gropings had. The room was -unoccupied; was bare of any lodger’s belongings; had evidently been -undisturbed since its daytime redding by the chamber-maid. But in the -partition wall between it and my room we found the peep-hole which, -on the principle of locking the stable after the horse had been most -successfully stolen, we carefully plugged. - -When we were before my fire again we were little wiser than when we had -left it. Our danger turned upon a question of time. When was the hole -bored through the partition wall? There was no way of determining this: -but Champe was sure he had heard footsteps in the adjoining room at the -moment when he had called my attention. - -“Take it whatever way you please,” he said; “there’s somebody in this -house who suspects you. What we have talked here to-night would hang a -whole regiment, and it’s my notion that our spy has heard all he needs -to hear and has gone for help to take us.” - -“In that case,” said I, “since we can die but once, I for my part -choose to die fighting rather than at the rope’s end.” So I got up and -barred the door. - -“Right you are, my Captain,” Champe agreed most heartily; and then we -took stock of our weapons. - -Fortunately we were provided with the tools we both knew best how to -use. My trooper sword, which I had brought off in the boat escape from -Nyack, was with my portmanteau; and this I gave to Champe. For myself -there was the captain’s rapier that went with my rank as Arnold’s aide; -a good serviceable Scottish blade which I had carefully selected from -a dozen or more in the barracks armory for its hang and balance. I -thought we should be able to give a pretty good account of ourselves -when the time came, and so much I said to Champe. - -“Aye,” he replied. “They’ll take the muskets to us before they get us, -and then I’ll pray only that they’ll shoot straight. Also, I’ll pray -that they do not keep us waiting over-long; I’m fair dead for sleep.” - -At this I remembered that the sergeant had lost the whole of the -preceding night, as I had, and that he had not had my chance of -sleeping out the day in recompense. So, when a full half-hour had -passed with no signs or sounds of the expected arresting party, I told -Champe to roll himself once more in the bed-covers, leaving me to keep -watch. The lack of a boat put any action out of the question for the -night; and, deplore it as we might, another day must elapse before we -could flog our simple garroting plot into shape. - -It was a fruitful vigil that I kept, sitting through the quiet hours -before the smoldering fire on the hearth; fruitful because it gave -me time to pass in orderly review the exciting events which had been -crowded into the short space of two days and nights. I could scarcely -realize that the day before the quickly changing scenes of the -yesterday, I had been pulling a small boat idly down the river from -Teller’s Point, intent upon nothing more pressing than the spending of -my few hours’ furlough in Dirck van Ditteraick’s tap-room with Jack -Pettus for a boon companion. - -This side of that, I had quarreled with Seytoun, taken a huge slice of -responsibility in the talk with Mr. Hamilton, made my stirring escape -from the patriot camp, changed flags, made my standing good with Sir -Henry Clinton and with Arnold, and had lived a fairly busy lifetime -in a strenuous day and a still more strenuous night. Moreover, I had -discovered Mistress Beatrix Leigh in a place where I had least expected -to find her, had stirred her anger and contempt, and--I hoped--in some -small measure, at least, her love for me; and had involved myself in a -tangle of deceit and double-dealing that might well lead me shortly to -a British prison and the gallows. - -And, last of all, three days away from our quiet camp in the Hudson -hills, I was sitting here in an upper room in the tavern, waiting -minute by minute for the summons to a struggle which, if it should -come, would, for Champe’s sake and mine, much better end in the -swiftest snuffing-out for both of us. - -I yawned sleepily. Our spy-takers were a long time making up their -minds, I concluded, and I had a hearty wish that they would hurry. No -man fights the better for having to sit for hours on end with his bared -sword across his knees, straining his ears for the first sounds of the -battle signal. - -Hence, it was with some dull prickings of disappointment that I roused -Champe an hour before dawn, and flung myself upon the bed for a little -wooing of forgetfulness to precede the forthbringings of another day. -For if there had come a thundering at the door and a shouted command to -open in the king’s name, we should at least have confronted a peril -known and measurable. But now the darkness was full of mysterious -eyes, as the silence told of whispering voices; and no step we should -henceforth take would be lacking its hidden snare or pitfall. - - - - -XI - -OUT OF THE NETTLE, DANGER - - -CHAMPE let me sleep until day-dawn was fully come and the inn was -stirring, calling me then, as he explained, only because he was fearful -that some orderly from Arnold’s quarters would be up and asking for me, -and so raise a wonder at my holding him, Champe, in my room over night. - -Being confronted by the perils of the new day, we were first concerned -with the problem of keeping the sergeant out of the way, and out of -sight of any curious eyes. It was asking too much of the hazards to -make the tavern a rendezvous for him, and while he might possibly -venture to show himself in the town, trusting to a nimble lie to -account for his absence from his regiment and the fleet, it said itself -that he must keep well out of sight of Arnold, Major Simcoe, or any -shore-keeping officer of the Loyal Americans. - -Breakfast was the earliest consideration, however, and I made shift -to answer for that, going down to the common-room when the meal was -called, and later bribing the cook to give me a tray of dainties for a -brother officer, who, as I said, had been forced to share my room with -me for the want of sober sense to find his quarters. - -How much this tale imposed upon the cook, a fat Dutchman big enough -to make three common men in any fair division of flesh, I do not know. -But he gave my “brother officer” the credit of a well man’s appetite, -and was discreet enough to discard the tray, making the provisions into -a paper-wrapped bundle which I might take to my room without exciting -remark. - -His breakfast despatched, Champe next wished to know how he was to get -out of the tavern unhalted to go upon the boat-seeking quest; and here -the contents of my portmanteau came into play. In a little time we -had him out of his Loyal American regimentals and into the civilian’s -clothes I had purchased to replace my patriot homespun. He made a -better-looking gentleman of elegance than I had hoped he would, and -when he was well-muffled in the cloak that went with the outfitting, I -thought he might pass without curious question. - -He was eager to make the attempt, as I was to have him. Any minute -a messenger might come from Arnold requiring my attendance, and the -wonder we had been trying all the morning to avert would be raised with -a vengeance. So, after agreeing upon a low sailors’ groggery beyond the -burned district on the eastern water-front as our meeting point for the -evening, where either of us who chanced to be the first comer would -await the arrival of the other, we parted, Champe going boldly down -the inn stair in his new toggery and carrying himself as little like a -soldier as any young man of fashion in New York. - -Now I took it afterward as a piece of sheer good fortune that the -idea came into my head to follow the sergeant down, two steps behind -him; and assuredly the event proved the timeliness of the prompting. -For in the tap-room, at a little table drawn up before the fire, sat -Lieutenant Castner as large as life, breakfasting at his leisure; and -if I had not steered Champe aside with a muttered exclamation, the -sergeant would have brushed Castner’s elbow in passing. As it was, I -had time to thrust myself between; and when the door clanged behind the -outgoing Champe, I was making my greetings to the lieutenant and asking -him if I might share his table for a dish of tea. - -He gave me the invitation cordially enough, but there was a look in his -mild eyes that I could not fathom. And I was scarcely facing him across -the table before he had me skating on the thinnest ice. - -“Who was your double, Captain Page?” he asked, with a jerk of his head -toward the door which had let Champe out to freedom. - -I saw it all instantly. Castner had been with me two days before and -had helped me to select the very clothes Champe was now wearing. It -was a thrust that called for the deftest parrying, and I was not at my -best--I never am in the mornings. - -“The man who went out as I came down?” I said, sparring to gain time. -“Do you think he favored me?” - -“As to his face I could not say,” was the cool reply. “I think he must -have the toothache, to judge from his mufflings. But I spoke of his -clothes. Hadn’t you noticed that he was wearing a copy of the suit I -helped you buy of the little Dutch Jew day before yesterday, Captain?” - -I said I had not noticed it, having other things to think of, but the -nonchalant reply did not banish the queer look from Castner’s eyes. And -when I sought to drag him away from the dangerous subject by asking -if he had learned anything new about the movements of the fleet, he -answered my question briefly and went back in a word to my perilous -skating pond. - -“I wonder that you didn’t remark the gentleman’s clothes,” he said -musingly. “I don’t think there is another cloak like that in all New -York. You say you don’t know him?” - -“How should I know him?” I demanded with a good show of impatience. “I -merely saw that some one walked ahead of me down the stair and out of -the door.” - -“Strange,” he said, in the same half-musing tone. “Do you know, Captain -Page, I could have sworn that you spoke to him less than a second -before you--rather rudely, I fancied--pushed him aside to shake hands -with me?” - -I thought it was all up with me now, but I set my teeth on a grim -resolve to die fighting. - -“Perhaps you could even tell me what I said to this gentleman who, at -the moment, was nothing more to me than a stumbling-block in my way,” I -said, laughing ironically. - -“I can,” he rejoined quite evenly. “You gave him the soldier’s word of -command: ‘File right!’ you said, and I almost looked to see you follow -it up with an oath.” - -He had me fairly at a standstill. He had quoted my word of warning -to Champe precisely, and I doubt not the tone in which it was given -suggested the oath which might have capped it. Having nothing more to -say, I held my peace, and when the lieutenant had given his rejoinder -time to sink in, he came at me again, this time very gravely. - -“You are not altogether transparent, Captain Page, nor have you been -since the hour you landed in New York. I don’t want to think ill of -you, because ill-thinking of a man in your situation could have but one -meaning. Now I shall ask you a fair question, and you shall answer it -as you choose. Do you--” - -I held up my hand. - -“First tell me frankly what you know, Mr. Castner, and then I shall be -equally frank with you,” I interposed; adding: “at least, as frank as -I can be without involving a gentleman who, I am sure, wishes to be -charitably unknown in this little controversy of ours.” - -His smile was shrewdly triumphant, but it comforted me beyond measure. -Whatever he knew, it was not enough to hang me--yet. - -“You had a fellow guest in your room last night, Captain; so much any -one who passed through the corridor and heard you talking might know. -That you kept this guest all night is quite apparent from the fact that -he wore your clothes when he went out just now. It may be a very simple -little mystery and easily explained; but, as I said before, mysteries -are dangerous things, Captain--for you.” - -Now I knew who had bored the hole in the wall of the unoccupied room -next to mine and why it had been bored. Castner had wished to see the -face of the man whom I was keeping over night. Remembering how hard it -would be to see anything definite through a quill-sized hole in a thick -partition wall, I took a chance that Castner was still in doubt as to -my roommate’s identity. And so long as I could keep this in the dark, -there was hope. - -“There is no great mystery about it, Mr. Castner, and nothing to -conceal save the gentleman’s name and standing. Before I attempt to -explain, may I ask if you know anything of General Arnold’s domestic -affairs?” - -He shook his head. - -“As little as may be, and I might say that I don’t care to know more.” - -“Then my task is the easier,” I said. “I had the honor of knowing the -general’s wife when she was Mistress Margaret Shippen, of Philadelphia. -I may tell you, without breaching her confidence, or the general’s, -that I was entrusted with a message for her last night. She gave me -no answer at the time; but later, learning, possibly, of the change -in the sailing orders, it is not beyond belief that she would wish to -communicate again with her husband, is it?” - -“I suppose not,” he agreed. “But are you trying to tell me that -Mistress Arnold’s messenger came naked, and had to borrow your clothes -to return in?” - -I laughed heartily at this. - -“Were you ever drunk and disorderly, Lieutenant Castner?” I asked. “If -so, you may have had to borrow a suit of clothes yourself before now. -And possibly the loan of a friend’s room to sober up in. And after such -an experience, I dare say you would not care to be recognized by your -friend’s friend in the morning when you were making your escape.” - -“Then they were your clothes?” persisted Castner, laughing now with me. - -“You asked me if he came naked: he did not, but he might have gone that -way, but for my generosity. Are you quite satisfied, Mr. Castner?” - -“I am obliged to be,” he said musingly. - -“Oh, no,” I said. “You may go up to my room and see the gentleman’s -castoff clothes, if you wish--though they are not over-pretty to look -at. In fact you may have everything but his name, which I feel in duty -bound not to disclose. If I hint that he is a near relative of--” - -“I beg your pardon,” said the lieutenant, almost shamefacedly, I -thought; and then I took my turn at him. It is always well, when you -have your enemy on the run, to press him closely lest he turn on you -like the Parthians of old. - -“How close were you behind us last night, when we came in, -Lieutenant?--and how long did you have to listen at my door to have -your suspicions aroused?” - -He pushed his chair back, and tried to laugh it off, but I would not -let him go. - -“No, you must not laugh,” I said soberly. “I am not over-quarrelsome, I -think, nor do I make too little of your many kindnesses to me. But you -can add greatly to my obligations, Mr. Castner, if you will remember -that there are gentlemen in Virginia as well as in the king’s army.” - -By this time he was apologizing in good earnest, and when he had gone -far enough to be quite out of sight and hearing of the danger point, -I forgave him most magnanimously, and drew my first real breath of -assurance. - -His breakfast finished, Castner would not stay to smoke a pipe with me -before the fire. His reason for haste added nothing to my comfort. He -told me that Major Simcoe was expected from the fleet, and that he must -go to the landing-place to meet him on Sir Henry Clinton’s behalf. - -This set me to thinking of how I might best throw up a hasty shelter -against the storm the major’s coming would doubtless raise in my -quarter of the heavens. By all the military canons I should presently -have to go and present my duty to Arnold, and I thought it would be -well to do this before Major Simcoe could precede me. Though as for -this, I was like a hound in leash, with only so far to run before the -cord should choke me, anyway. - -Hitherto, I had always gone willingly enough into the den of the wild -beast we were seeking to entrap, but now I had a curious chilling of -reluctance. What if Major Simcoe had already come ashore? What if he -had sent another boat, after I had left him, with a second message to -the expedition commander? What if--but there was no end to the list of -things that might have happened, and the only way to die was to do it -quickly and have it over with. - -So, packing my qualms into the smallest corner of my soul, I crossed -swiftly to the house of threatenings, only to learn that Arnold had -gone to an early conference with Sir Henry Clinton. Following him to -the house next door, I was told by an orderly that he was closeted -with the commander-in-chief, and was asked if I were the bearer of -despatches. - -I said I was not, and lingered upon the door-step to wait for my -interview. When it was over-long in coming, I left word with Arnold’s -orderly that I would return later, and went to make a brisk circuit -around the fort by way of walking off the cold chill of apprehension -that seemed to be freezing the very blood in my veins. - -This walk brought me, in due time, to the water’s edge, and turning -eastward I was led into that search for a boat which must precede all -else in the plot we had devised. Some little distance up the shore, and -well within range of the fort’s heavier ordnance, I placed the sailors’ -groggery where Champe and I were to meet at the day’s end. It was a -mere hovel on the hillside; a den where I thought a man would do well -to go armed after nightfall. It was kept by a shock-headed Irishman, -with foxy eyes and a fist like a rail-splitter’s. He served me with a -can of grog, and when I asked him if he knew of any one who had a boat -to sell, he gave me a cunning leer, and said the “other gentleman” was -ahead of me. This told me that Champe had been before me; and thinking -I might only direct suspicion toward him or myself, I paid for my drink -and went back to see if Arnold had returned. - -This time I did not have to wait. Arnold was in his office-room -above-stairs, and when I reported to him, he told me briefly that I was -at liberty for the forenoon. Whereupon I was going away with a lighter -heart, and should have carried the same out at the street door if I had -not just been in time to meet Major Simcoe entering. - -There was clearly nothing to be done. The major was going up-stairs, -and I did not see how I could stop him. If by any chance my shifty -exploit of the night before should come in for mention, my race was run. - -“One moment, Major,” I said hurriedly, halting him when his foot was on -the first step of the stair; “have you seen Lieutenant Castner?” - -He turned and said he had not, by which I inferred that he had not yet -been to Sir Henry Clinton’s quarters. - -“He left me a little while ago, saying that he was going to the -landing-place to meet you, or failing that, to send a boat off for -you,” I went on calmly. - -I was almost without the hope that it would turn him back, but it -did--from the very threshold of my peril. He took it precisely as -I had hoped he might; as a notice that Sir Henry wished to see him -without delay. No sooner was he gone into the house next door than I -ran up-stairs to present myself again to Arnold. As before, he was -preoccupied with his work, but gave me his attention when I stood -deferentially aside and waited. - -“There was a little matter which I meant to mention and forgot, -General,” I began, trying my best to be routine-like. “It has come in -my way once to stand sponsor for a rascally fellow-colonist of mine, -named Champe, and I’m sorry to have to do it again, or rather to report -him. Last night you entrusted him with despatches for Major Simcoe, and -I regret to say that I found him some time afterward in a condition -totally unfit to be responsible for his duty. You will understand when -I say that he had gone so far as to show his despatches and to boast -of his errand. I promptly put him under guard, took your letter and -delivered it myself to the major.” - -“That was right,” he said approvingly; and then he asked the question I -had hoped he would ask. “What did Major Simcoe say, when he saw you in -Champe’s place?” - -Here was my opportunity, and I seized it immediately. - -“Major Simcoe was not over-courteous to me. For some reason or other -he, and many of his fellow officers in the king’s service, seems very -ready to put a slight upon us of the Loyal Americans, General, and when -he began to question me dictatorially about Champe, I--well, for the -honor of the legion I felt constrained to put him off, asking him in -effect, if it were any of his business if you chose to send a sergeant -of your own regiment on another errand.” - -I saw before I was through that I was touching the proper chord. It was -the gossip of the town that Arnold was practically ostracized by the -officers of the regular army, and it was equally common talk that this -was our traitor’s sorest point. So I was quite prepared to have him -approve my course, as he did with his eyes glooming, and the furrows -deepening in his brow. - -“You did quite right, Captain Page,” he said, “though I doubt not you -were too easy with the drunken sergeant. Have you Champe still under -lock and key?” - -“No,” I admitted; “he was so penitent this morning, and so anxious -to get away before the story of his misbehavior should come to your -ears, that I let him go to seek a boat in which he could return to his -company. He can be disciplined later, if you so direct; though, as a -fellow Virginian, I hope you will see how good a soldier he can be on -the battle-field before you do it.” - -He was looking past me before I had finished, with that absent gaze I -was coming to associate with his milder moods, and when I had made an -end he waved his hand and said: “You are a merciful man, Captain Page; -which is rather to your credit if you do not carry it too far. If Major -Simcoe complains to me, I shall know what to say to him.” - -Now was my time to vanish, but as I was turning away, he broke in -again: “I gave you leave for the forenoon, Captain, but I am tempted to -ask you to do me a small personal favor, if you will. Mistress Arnold -does not yet know of the delay in our departure, and if you can make it -convenient to see her and to say to her that I shall be engaged until -after midday--” - -I bowed and said I should be only too glad to carry his message, which, -for once in a way, was the truth in fact as well as in intention. - -Being free to go, I went hastily, and before Major Simcoe could return -to catch me in this business of pipe-laying. Not to have Arnold’s -errand on my mind, I made it my first care to discharge it quickly. It -was Mistress Margaret herself who met me at the door of the Vandeventer -house, and it hurt me to see how glad she was at the news I brought; -hurt me because if our plans should succeed, the delay would mean -nothing but agony and life-long sorrow for her. - -I did not go in, though she asked me very kindly if I would, but when -I hung upon my leave-taking, she divined the cause and said: “Mistress -Beatrix is quite well this morning, thank you, Captain Page, and I know -she will be overjoyed to hear that you asked for her.” - -It was surely a needed pin-prick, and I responded to it. - -“It is truly wonderful, Mistress Margaret, how you are able to read -a man’s inmost thoughts, and to set them in the words he is trying -to find. Later in the day I trust the general may make me his letter -carrier again, and if he does, may I hope--” - -“Your privilege is always to hope, Captain Page, and I think I should -be the last person in the world to rob you of it,” she said; then she -gave me a loving message to her husband, and truly I felt more and more -the despicable villain the deeper I was drawn into this playing of the -go-between for husband and wife. - -On my return to the lower end of the town, I made a détour to the -western waterside with a view to familiarizing myself with the -situation which would confront us when we should not have daylight -to show us what we needed to see. The riverside was well guarded to a -point far beyond the town, and the river itself was patrolled by small -craft. I saw no rowing boats at all on that bank. It came to me now, -that our greatest difficulty would lie in this finding of a suitable -boat. Unless I could use my authority as an officer in seizing one, I -fancied that we should look long before obtaining one in any other way. -This would be an extra hazard, to be sure, but we were already so deep -in hazards, that the addition of another could make little difference. - -I had turned inland, and was passing the sugar-house prison in the -corner of the churchyard, when I met Major Simcoe again; and this time -it was he who halted me. - -“Your fellow-countryman, the sergeant, seems to have got himself into -trouble, Captain Page. Had you heard of it?” - -My heart turned to lead at his words, but I was careful to keep the -weight of it out of my face and voice. - -“Our sergeant seems to trouble you much more than he does me, Major,” I -said, trying to say it as lightly as I could. “What has he been doing -now?” - -The major laughed. - -“That remains to be determined. He was found prowling about the -waterside in citizen’s clothes a little while ago, and since he could -give no reasonable account of himself to the officer of the guard, he -was clapped into a cell.” - -I was burning to ask if the news of this climaxing disaster had been -carried to Arnold, but I dared not. So I escaped from the major as I -could, and hurried down to Fort George, passing the door of Arnold’s -house on the way, as one might take a morning’s saunter in front of a -cannon loaded, and with the slow-match burning. - -At the fort the commandant, a British officer of the bulldog type, was -exceedingly brusk with me, paying his backhanded compliment to the -uniform I wore, and at first would give me no satisfaction whatever. - -“The man was first a deserter from the rebels, and now he has shed his -regimentals, and was trying to desert from us,” he said sharply. “Of -course, Mr. Arnold will do what he pleases with him, but if the matter -lay with me, he would stretch a cord very promptly, Captain.” - -“Fortunately, the matter does not lie with you,” I retorted, matching -his sharpness. “You have blundered, as some of you gentlemen in the -king’s service seem quite prone to do. Sergeant Champe was on duty when -you arrested him, and that duty required that he should not appear in -his regimentals, as it also required secrecy on his part, even under -the questioning of so great a man as you are, Mr. Commandant. I’ll -trouble you to set the sergeant at liberty, sir.” - -“Upon order, certainly, Captain,” said my bulldog stubbornly. - -“You have your order, sir,” I retorted, bristling back at him. - -“I have not seen it,” he remarked. - -“By heaven, sir, you are hearing it!” I cried. “Do you require me to go -back to Sir Henry Clinton and General Arnold, with the information that -you decline to take the word of the general’s aide?” - -Now there are bullies who can not be bullied, but happily the -commandant was not one of them. When I was turning upon my heel, as if -in a passion, he called me back. - -“I know you are Mr. Arnold’s aide, Captain,” he said, rather less -truculently, “but duty is duty, and--” - -“Oh, very well,” I said, “it is but a matter of walking up to Sir -Henry’s house and telling him that your meddlesome interference has -doubtless spoiled the service upon which the sergeant was engaged.” - -That shot brought him down, and now he seemed as eager to give me -my sergeant, and to be quit of us both, as, a moment before, he -was reluctant. Champe was fetched from some dungeon underneath the -battlements, and he was shrewd enough not to make much of seeing me -with the commandant, who now followed me to the sally-port, with -protestations of his guiltlessness in Champe’s arrest, and begging me -not to make too much of it with Sir Henry Clinton. I set his mind at -rest on this point, telling him that if he did not report the _faux -pas_, I should not; a statement which was well within the bounds of -truth. - -Once free of the fort with my derelict, I hurried him around to the -tavern and up to my room. - -“Out of that masquerade and into your uniform quickly!” I commanded; -and I would not let him tell his morning adventures until he had made -the change. - -When he was once more, in outward appearance, a soldier of the Loyal -American Legion, he set his back against the wall and said: - -“Well, Captain Dick, I’ve found the boat for us, though I don’t know -but what I’ve had to kill a man to quiet our title to it.” - - - - -XII - -HOW THE HOOK WAS BAITED - - -CHAMPE’S calm announcement that he had purchased a boat at the price -of a man’s life was startling enough; but before I could ask for the -particulars he had pushed the dreadful deed and all thought of it into -the background with an ominous hint and a still more ominous query. - -“The boat business isn’t the worst of it, by the value, much or little, -of another man’s life,” he affirmed soberly. Then the query: “Is your -standing still good over yonder, Captain Dick?” with a jerk of his -thumb toward Sir Henry Clinton’s and Arnold’s headquarters. - -“My standing was as sound as ever, up to an hour or two ago; though -it had a pretty narrow margin when Major Simcoe came ashore and went -within an ace of spilling all our fat into the fire. But why? Has -anything happened that promises to make a breach in it?” - -Champe took his back from the wall and sat down, locking his hands over -one knee. - -“Let me ask you first: did they tell you what I was doing when they put -me under arrest?--but of course they didn’t; they couldn’t have guessed -it.” - -“They told me nothing save that you were a soldier out of uniform, -that you were a skulker from the fleet, and that you were making for a -boat with a pair of oars on your shoulder--preparing to run away, they -supposed.” - -“They got it all straight, as far as they went,” he responded, nodding -his head sagely. “Only they didn’t go half far enough. I was doing my -prettiest to make a chance to put the quietus on a second man; and I -would have compassed it within the next quarter-hour, if the guard -officer hadn’t clapped his good eye on me.” - -“Heavens!” I exclaimed. “You surely missed your calling, Sergeant -Champe. You should be the public hangman in some county where the court -sits once a month.” - -Champe’s grin was appreciative rather than reproachful. - -“They do say some callings run in the blood, Captain Dick,” he allowed. -“My father was the High Sheriff of Loudoun County before the war took -him off--as his gaffer was before him. But that’s neither here nor -there: wait and you shall say for yourself whether this man I speak of -does not need a little wholesome killing.” - -“Go on,” said I. “The present moment is ours, and that is all the -luckiest soul alive can lay claim to. None the less, if any special -danger is threatening--” - -“It is either past the threatening point, or else it will not reach it -while I’m telling you,” said the sergeant, with a return of his stolid -indifference. “If that cursed guard officer had given me but the -thinnest shaving of time: five minutes more was all I asked.” - -“Oh, get on with your story!” I cut in impatiently. - -“I’m coming to it, Captain Dick; rein your nag down and go easy on the -spur: then you’ll get all the speed with all the bottom. But, as I -was saying: after I had found the only boat that was to be had on all -this waste of river front, and had put the owner of it well choked and -gagged and bound into the cellar of his own house, with half the bricks -of his Dutch oven piled on the trap-door to keep him safe--” - -“You said nothing of all this,” I interrupted, “but no matter--let’s -have the nib of it.” - -“There you go again, Captain, tripping me up just as I’m taking the -gallop. Where was I?--oh, yes; piling the good half of the Dutch oven -on the trap-door to make all safe. Well, that done, I must needs go -back a ways to buy the silence of the carrot-headed Irish grog-ladler -who had put me in the way of finding the hidden boat. After I had let -him rob me to the tune of three guineas where he had offered for two, I -thought it might be well to take a round along the shore to that Dutch -schnapps house where I had been meeting Mr. Baldwin, Major Lee’s letter -carrier from the camp at Tappan.” - -“A good thought,” I broke in. “I had forgotten that we may still have a -line of communication open in that direction.” - -“It was a lucky thought,” Champe went on. “When I found the Mynheer, -I was told that Mr. Baldwin had been seeking me since daybreak, and -while I was talking to the Dutchman, in Mr. Baldwin pops again, to give -me a letter fresh from Major Lee.” - -“Let me see it,” said I, holding out my hand; but the sergeant only -laughed at me. - -“Do you think I should have got through that fort guard-room yonder -with the letter in my pocket, Captain Dick? No, no; I took no such -risks, I promise you. The paper was well chewed and swallowed before -it ever saw outdoor daylight. But I can tell you well enough what it -said. We’re outflanked, foot, horse, and dragoons. There was a spy in -the camp at Tappan the night you got your marching orders from Mr. -Hamilton. You’ll know what that spells out for us?” - -“I can guess; let’s have the worst of it.” - -“I’m coming to that, too. This spy was caught, _fragranty delictum_, a -few hours after you left the camp. Handily invited, with the turn of -a cord around his two thumbs, he told what he could pick out of Mr. -Hamilton’s talk to you heard from his hiding-place under Mr. Hamilton’s -bed in the next room. He had it all down pat; your name and rank and -mine, and the whole story of my plot and your cutting in to help me. -But he protested to the last gasp that his knowledge was all of the -ear; that he saw nothing--being under the bed--and wouldn’t know either -of us by sight.” - -“To the last gasp, you say--then they hanged him?” I said, feeling a -great burden lifted. - -“Unluckily, they didn’t. He had his drumhead trial, and was to stretch -a cord at daybreak. Two hours before dawn they changed guard at the -hut where he was in keeping, and the relief found the hut empty. The -man was gone.” - -“Oh, good lord!” I exclaimed. “We are not the only ones to tangle our -feet and fall down over them, it seems. He’ll be here on top of us, -next, I take it.” - -“He is here,” said Champe impressively. “But to take things as they -come: Major Lee’s first care, of course, was to send a warning to us. -By good fortune, Mr. Baldwin chanced to be in Tappan, so the major -had his letter carrier at hand. So down comes our warning, with a -peremptory order at the tail of it. If the letter finds us still alive -and at large, we are to throw down the tools and quit the job, evacuate -the works, burn the baggage wagons--in other words, we are to save our -necks if we can.” - -“Humph!” said I. “If I’m guessing straight at the hinder end of your -tale, Major Lee’s very excellent advice comes a good few hours too -late, doesn’t it?” - -“Right you are, Captain Dick,” asserted my news-bringer. “The spy is -here in New York, and he has enough powder in his noddle to blow us -both safely to Heaven if we had as many lives as the cat. Mr. Baldwin, -who knows him, saw the man at his trial, and happily Mr. Baldwin is a -good enough friend of ours to want to save our bacon. So, from the time -when he crossed the river last night, he kept a sharp eye out for this -Mr. James Askew, which is the name our man goes by.” - -“Good! And he found him?” - -“Found him early this morning, and followed him to his dodging-hole, -which was the tavern of the Three Larks on the east shore road. His -next care was to deliver the major’s letter to me, and, having done -that, he put himself at our disposal in any helpful way that offered.” - -I nodded. “Mr. Baldwin is trying fair to earn his fee of two hundred -guineas, five hundred acres of land and three negroes, which, as Mr. -Hamilton told me, was to be his reward for the letter carrying,” I -said. “Did you retain him?” - -“On the spot,” said Champe. “First I had him tell me all he knew -about Askew. The man is not a Britisher; he is a free-lance, picking -up information where he can and selling it in the best market. This -gave me my lead. Such a man would be carrying his life in his hands in -either camp, and he could never go boldly to either headquarters with -his wares. With half a chance, I thought I might scare him off for a -day or two, at any rate; and here Mr. Baldwin helped me again. We went -to the Three Larks together, found our man, and Mr. Baldwin introduced -me as a gentleman in the same line of business.” - -“Excellent! You are a man in a thousand, Sergeant Champe.” - -“We got on well enough after Mr. Baldwin left us. With my knowledge of -things on our side of the Neutral Ground, I soon convinced Askew that -I was an honest spy, like himself, and then, with a pot of ale or so -to moisten the ropes, I began to pull gently on the dragnet. Askew’s a -shy fish, and no gudgeon, but he finally let out that he had a piece -of news he hoped would bring a good price. The sticking point was the -risk he ran in delivering it, he said, by which I knew that he had been -playing two games at the same time.” - -“And you helped his fears to grow?” I put in. - -“To the queen’s taste,” laughed the sergeant. “And at the -trigger-pulling moment I made him a proposal. ‘How if we should go -together to Sir Henry Clinton, and stand by each other?’ says I; and -when I added that I had a bit of influence in that quarter, he took the -bait at a gulp.” - -“It is very clear that I am not the only daredevil in this company,” I -remarked. “But you did not mean to do any such mad thing as that, did -you?” - -“Not to-day, Captain Dick; it is not my day for visiting Sir Henry -Clinton; nor did I mean that it should be Mr. James Askew’s, either. -But by this time I saw that I could not frighten him entirely off; -he was too shrewd and too eager for the gold. So the only thing was -to carry out Major Lee’s court-martial sentence on the body of the -prisoner. He was as good as dead, anyway.” - -“Surely, Sergeant Champe, if you escape the gallows here it will be -only so that you may live to carry out your hereditary destiny of -hanging other people,” I commented. “But go on: he consented to your -plan?” - -“Something cautiously, though he was now in the middle of his third -cup of strong waters. Sifting him carefully again, I found that he was -afraid to pass through the town in daylight, and here he played into my -hands. I told him we might take a boat and pull around the water-front -to the fort landing-place and so dodge all the curious eyes in the -town.” - -“But how would that help us?” I queried. I confess I was a little dull -that morning. - -Champe’s face lightened with his diabolical grin when he explained his -purpose. When they were safely in the boat--a cockle-shell belonging to -the Three Larks--he meant to upset it and drown the spy. - -“It was all but done,” he went on regretfully. “I had bargained for the -hiring of the boat, and we were on our way to the waterside with the -oars when the guard relief came along. The one chance in a thousand -rose up and kicked me. The guard officer was a line corporal I had -quarreled with over a game of cards while the Loyal Americans were in -barracks.” - -“And he knew you--recognized you?” - -“In two quacks of a duck. I had barely time to tip Askew the wink to -sheer off, before the redcoat was calling me by my right name, and -demanding to know why I was out of the fleet and masquerading ashore -in citizen’s clothes. I had no answer ready for all this, so Askew and -I were like the two women grinding at the mill--one was taken and the -other left. The rest of the tale you know as well or better than I, -Captain Dick.” - -“I know that we are both no better than dead men if we can not lay -hands on this spy of yours before he has screwed up courage to name his -price to Sir Henry Clinton or Arnold,” I said gravely. “But doubtless -he has already done so.” - -Champe shook his head. - -“I’m hoping not. He was well frightened by the fierceness with which -the guard corporal bullied me; and when I had my last glimpse of him he -was making off up the shore and evidently wishing with all his heart he -dared break into a run.” - -“Yet he will come to it,” I asserted. “The gold-greed will drive him, -and his news is too big to keep. I’d give the best field of the Page -tobacco lands to know if we are still in time to stop him.” - -The sergeant rose and stretched his long arms over his head. Then he -felt of his neck tenderly, saying with a touch of grim humor: “The cord -isn’t knotted around it yet. Pass your orders, Captain Dick. What do we -do?” - -“Nay,” said I; “you’ve proved that your head is as good or better than -mine. What do you say?” - -“Being footloose, and having my regimentals on, I might go and have -another look for Mr. James Askew. Then, if I could get him and my bully -guard-relief corporal in the same crazy wherry--” - -“You’d drown them both, I suppose,” I laughed. “Never mind the -corporal; he’s harmless enough, while this man Askew holds your life in -one hand and mine in the other. What will you do with him if you find -him?--or when you find him?” - -“I’ll keep him from spreading his sails to Sir Henry Clinton’s golden -breeze, at all events,” said the sergeant meaningly. Then: “You don’t -happen to have a bit of poison of any kind in your kit, do you?” - -“Bah!” said I. “Do it soldierly, at least, Sergeant Champe.” - -“So I will, then,” he agreed. After which he asked me if I would stay -where I was and pray for his success. - -“I’ll do better than that--being somewhat out of practice on my knees,” -I told him. “It lies in my mind that I’ll go yonder to Sir Henry’s door -and be at hand to stop our man if he should slip through your fingers -and decide to ask an audience of Sir Henry Clinton without your help. -Can you describe him so I would know him?” - -“Why, yes,” said the sergeant, scratching his head with a meditative -finger. “You’ll place him in the hollow half of a minute. He’s much -like other men, neither very big nor very little; less tall than the -tallest, and by no means as short as the shortest. You can’t well miss -him.” - -Sharp as our peril was, I had to laugh at Champe’s notion of a -description. But time was pressing. - -“Try it again, Sergeant,” I encouraged. “This time I’ll help you. Just -answer my questions one at a time and we’ll have him. First, how old -would you take him to be?” - -Champe knitted his brows thoughtfully. “By grabs, Captain Dick, I never -thought to ask him!” - -“No, no; of course you couldn’t ask him. But fire a guess at it. Is he -a young man?” - -“No; I wouldn’t call him young; say thirty, or forty, or maybe fifty, -or so.” - -“Great Marlborough!” I raged. “Can’t you come any nearer to it than -that? How about his eyes--what color are they?” - -“Hum--his eyes; well, now, there you have me again, Captain. They are -devilish sharp little eyes; I can tell you that. But lord! I couldn’t -name you their color in a month of Sundays.” - -“By all the blind pipers that ever twiddled a horn-pipe--I don’t -believe you looked at him at all!” I broke out, annoyed beyond measure -at this unexpected development of the sergeant’s weak point. “Is it any -use to ask you how he was dressed?” - -Champe’s face lightened now, and the frown of perplexity smoothed -itself out. - -“Surely; I can tell you that to the dotting of an ‘i.’ I remember -noticing particularly that he was dressed quite like other -folk--buckle-shoes, breeches, waistcoat, coat and hat. There you have -him from head to foot.” - -“Heavens and earth, man!” I exclaimed. “How in the devil’s name am I to -help in this if you can’t give me the first living idea of the fellow -I’m to look for? Think, Sergeant--think hard. Surely there must have -been some noticeable thing about him that would serve to place him for -me.” - -Champe put his head in his hands and appeared to be making the mental -effort of a lifetime. After a long minute he looked up to say: “I’ve -got it, Captain Dick, I’ve got it. Come to think of it, I’m almost sure -he wore a scratch-wig like a farmer’s.” - -I shook my head in despair. Half the men in America wore scratch-wigs. -Yet the edge of the necessity was in no wise dulled by Champe’s -inability to visualize the spy for me. - -“Try it again, Sergeant,” I entreated; and now he got up and began to -walk the floor, cracking the joints of his big fingers and scowling -ferociously in the throes of recollection. I venture to say he walked a -full quarter-mile up and down the long room before he stopped to make -his final dash at the impregnable barrier. - -“I have it now,” he said, pleased as a child over the finding of a -long-sought-for plaything. “His waistcoat was gray, Captain Dick; and -he wore a black stock--aye, it was black, sure enough. But”--smiting -fist into palm with a mighty thwack to make the climax--“the thing I -noticed hardest was his watch-fob; a bunch of seals hanging at the end -of a leather thong, and he twiddles them, so”--suiting the action to -the word--“all the time as he talks or walks. Never tell me, Captain, -that I haven’t got him down to the very parting of the hair for you.” - -“Oh, you have,” I said ironically; “indeed you have. I could doubtless -recognize Mr. James Askew in the dark, and with my eyes shut; or that -way as well as any other. But the twiddling of the watch-fob seals -may do. Now to the work. When you’ve succeeded--or failed--come back -here and put a corner of your neckerchief in the window for a signal; -right-hand if you’ve hit the mark, left-hand if you’ve missed.” - -“You’ll be within call?” he asked, as I was unbarring the door. - -“I shall be patrolling before Sir Henry Clinton’s door, ready to nip -Mr. James Askew if he turns up on my beat--always providing that he -twiddles his watch-seals at the proper instant.” - -“One more word,” said the sergeant, when my hand was on the latch. -“Major Lee’s order is to drop the hitch-rope and run for it. You’ve -said nothing as to that, yet, Captain Dick.” - -“And I say nothing now, save that Major Lee is not my commanding -officer. He is yours, however--which may make a difference in your -case. Does it?” - -“No,” he said shrewdly; and we went out through the tap-room one at a -time, and each to his own separate pool to fish for James Askew. - - - - -XIII - -HOW A FISH WAS HOOKED AND LOST - - -THE talk in my tavern room with Champe had used up so much time that -it was midday and beyond when I joined the group of orderlies and -unattached officers lounging before Sir Henry’s door, and had a welcome -in strict accordance with the freezing December weather and the uniform -I was wearing--cool and contemptuous. - -Now this was grateful to me, in a way, and in another way it made me -spitefully savage. It was comforting to know that our nobler enemies -detested Arnold’s treachery, carrying their aversion to the extent of -despising any one who wore his regimental colors. But, on the other -hand, the slight had to pass through me on its way to hit the mark, and -I was never good at paying penalties for another’s sins. - -So, when there were covert sneers and back-turnings enough to make -a man sick, I began to strut and sneer in self-defense, twitting -a lieutenant of Hetheridge’s whose line was the first to break at -Monmouth, and a captain of Knyphausen’s whose Hessian devils had cut a -troop of our horse to pieces at Tappan after it had surrendered. - -This was all very hot-headed and rash, and would doubtless have -involved me in trouble enough if a diversion had not come in the shape -of Mr. Justice Smith’s new London-made hackney coach drawn by four -horses which, for their postilions and trappings, might have been taken -out of a crack artillery troop. - -The coach came to a stand before Arnold’s door, and, as may be -imagined, I left the quarreling Hessian captain without ceremony when I -saw the faces of Margaret Shippen and Mistress Beatrix Leigh behind the -window-panes. - -“I have come to see the general, Captain Page,” said Mistress Arnold, -when I had opened the coach door. “Will you be my _avant coureur_?” - -“Most gladly,” I replied. And when I had found Arnold at his -writing-table, and had his command to fetch his wife up to him, I went -back to show Mistress Margaret the way. - -“You will undertake to keep Beatrix from stagnating for the few minutes -I shall need, Captain Page?” said this dear lady, when I was leaving -her at Arnold’s office door; and I said I would try, and was thanking -her when she bade me hasten before some of the other officers had cut -me out. - -I was minded to hasten fast enough, though not specially for the reason -given by Mistress Margaret. I thought it would be a much more inclement -day than this seventeenth day of December, Anno Domini, 1780, when I -could not hold my own against a handful of redcoat popinjays who picked -flaws in a man because he did not happen to be wearing a shoulder-knot -to their liking. - -But alas! pride goes before a fall and a haughty spirit before -destruction. When I reached the street here was my lady Beatrix -laughing and chatting most amiably with the little ensign who had been -one of her partners at Mr. Justice Smith’s rout, and there were only -a cool little nod and a blank smile for my hasty return. All of which -put me on my mettle so that I stayed at the ensign’s elbow, and trod -on his toes, and apologized therefor, and was pleasantly rude and -insulting until he finally gave me, though not without black looks and -a smothered curse or two, my place at the open door of the hackney -coach. - -“Pray where did you learn your new boorishness, Captain Page; in the -Dutch Highlands?” queried my lady, in the gentle tone she used when the -lightning is about to flash. - -“I learned to fight for my rights in Old Virginia,” I retorted gaily; -“and I shall not soon forget the lessons you have taught me touching -them.” - -“I decline to be your sponsor--in that or in anything else, Captain -Page,” she declared, regarding me critically. - -Now here was a pretty change of climate, I thought. The night before, -when she believed I was going off to the wars with Arnold, there were -sympathy and anxiety and tenderness, and even a little love, perhaps. -And now, merely because I had not gone quite so suddenly as the program -called for, the wan December sunshine could not have held itself more -chillingly aloof. - -“What have I done to-day that I had not done before last night, -Beatrix?” I asked, shifting my position at the coach step so that I -could keep one eye on Sir Henry Clinton’s door--for the possible coming -of the twiddler of watch-seals was sorely dividing my attention, or -diverting it. - -“You are wearing a coat that I do not like,” she announced, going back -to the original cause of quarrel. - -“It is as good a coat as the one Ensign Brewster is wearing,” I -ventured. - -“It is not!” she retorted. “He is wearing the coat of his king and -country, and in his case it fits honestly.” - -“Well, then; this is the same coat I wore last night,” I urged, -presuming rashly where I should have had more sense. - -“Last night is not to-day: and I have lived half a lifetime since last -night.” - -“Then you think more of a cause than you do of a man?” I asked; and I -would never have said such a thing to her if I had not been hag-ridden -by my responsibility for one James Askew. - -“You are quibbling!” she returned. “The cause is much--God knows how -much it is to our stricken country: but truth and faith and loyalty are -more. I could honor you in spite of your colors, Dick, if you fought -under them as honestly as Ensign Brewster does.” - -“I may be fighting more honestly than you think,” I broke out, pushed -to the wall, as I was likely to be in any controversy with her. - -She took me up so quickly that I had no breathing space. - -“You have hinted before that you could explain if you would, Dick,” she -said with low-toned eagerness. Then, looking past me to see if any of -the others were within earshot: “Tell me--is it a mask? Are you--” - -I made a swift gesture for silence. There are times when the very -stones in the pavement must not be trusted. - -“You must not forget that you are speaking to a captain in Benedict -Arnold’s Legion, or”--here I lowered my voice to mate it with her eager -half-whisper--“that a word of what you have just hinted would hang that -same captain higher than Haman!” - -“But you do not deny--you do not deny!” she fluttered. “Oh, Dick! give -me one little thread to cling to--one look to tell me that you are--” - -I knew her bosom was heaving; that the quick tears had risen to quench -the righteous indignation in the beautiful eyes. And yet I could not -speak to her; could not even look at her. For here was Arnold coming -down the house steps with Mistress Margaret on his arm; and, not fifty -feet away, a smallish man in sober gray was standing before Sir Henry -Clinton’s door, looking curiously up at the higher windows and absently -toying with a great bunch of seals at his watch-fob as he stared. - -There was no time to say a word to Beatrix, if I ever hoped to have -time for any future word with her--time and the breath to say it with. -The smallish man in gray, gazing in abstracted indecision at Sir -Henry’s upper windows, was twiddling my life and Sergeant Champe’s at -his fingers’ ends. Let him take but a single step within the door he -was facing, and we two would be as water spilt on the ground, which can -not be gathered up again. - -I scarcely know how I left her; how, for one brief instant, I made way -deferentially for Arnold and his wife, and in the next had come within -gripping distance of the man in Quaker gray. But the thing was done in -some fashion, and after this frenzied taking of the first step, the -next came easily. - -“Your name is Askew--James Askew?” I whispered in the spy’s ear; and -if I had put the point of a knife between his ribs he could not have -winced more palpably. - -“No, no, Lieutenant--er--Captain, I should say; you are quite mistaken, -sir. Duvall is my name; Harrison Duvall, of--of Pennsylvania.” - -“One of your names, perhaps,” I qualified, smiling down on him -meaningly, and now I noted the shifting ferrety eyes whose color Champe -could not recall--the eyes, the black stock and the scratch-wig. - -“We need not quarrel over a little matter of names, Mr. Askew,” I -went on rapidly. “Let it be sufficient that I know you and know your -business here. You are in great danger--as great as, or greater than, -that which you were confronting in Mr. Washington’s camp at Tappan no -longer ago than yesterday morning.” - -If there had been any doubt as to the man’s double-dealing past, his -carrying of water on both shoulders, his appearance now would have -removed it. His colorless face became tallowy, and fine little beads of -sweat were starting from his forehead. I followed up my advantage like -a swordman who dares not give his antagonist time to gather and parry. - -“We know a thing or two about you here,” I continued, speaking softly -and edging between him and the group of officers at Clinton’s door. -“Sir Henry would be most happy to lay eyes on you--happier than you -would be, a few hours later. I say your danger is greater here than -it was at Tappan: our prisoners do not break jail so easily as Mr. -Washington’s do.” - -His face was like parchment now, and he had to wet his lips before he -could speak. - -“I--I can make my standing good with Sir Henry,” he faltered. “There -was a mistake about that affair of Major André’s. It was not I who told -Paulding and Williams where they were to lie in wait for the major--I -did not!” - -Now I thought I had him! Paulding and Williams were two of the three -men who had arrested Major André, and it was common talk in the patriot -camps that some one had first told them where to look for André, though -these two, as well as Isaac Van Wart, the third man, stoutly denied it. - -“You will have trouble in proving that mistake, Mr. Askew,” I said; -“great trouble, I fear. But that is for the future; your present risk -is in standing here, where some one who knows you as well or better -than I, may chance to come along.” - -He had been casting furtive glances over his shoulder, as if picking -out the way to run; but now that I had him at bay, the time was -ripe for an escape from the dangerous neighborhood of the general -headquarters. - -“Come with me,” I commanded hurriedly, linking an arm in one of his. -“You have a piece of news to tell--but not to Sir Henry Clinton. There -is a better market, and a much safer one.” - -He yielded, reluctantly, only because he had good reason to be afraid -of every one. I could feel the fear tremor shaking him all the way -to the tavern to which I led him, and a great contempt for the -paltry villain made my gorge rise and the touch of his arm seem like -pollution. He was silent and furtively watchful till I got him into the -inn and up the stair. But on the threshold of my room he hung back and -showed his teeth in a snarl. - -“I don’t know who you are, or where you are taking me!” he burst -out; and then he tried to twist his arm free, developing sudden and -unlooked-for strength in the momentary struggle. - -“Quiet, you dog!” I ordered, and then I thrust him in ahead of me and -followed to shut and bar the door. - -He stood where I had pushed him, in the middle of the floor, and made -no resistance when I felt him over for weapons and found two dueling -pistols and a keen-edged flesher’s knife hidden under his waistcoat. -For a man so well provided, he was surely the abjectest craven I ever -saw. - -“Now you can go a little more comfortably into that matter I spoke -of,” I remarked, breaking the blade of the knife over an andiron, and -shaking the powder primings out of the pans of the pistols. “You were -saying that you had news to sell--” - -“I said nothing of the kind,” he flashed back. “Let me out of this, or -I--I swear I’ll raise the house on you!” - -“No, you won’t,” I replied coolly. “Nothing is farther from your -present intentions, Mr. James Askew, and the fact that I know this is -your best assurance of safety.” - -“I don’t know you,” he raged. “What have you got me here for?” - -“That is better,” I said, pushing him into a chair and drawing up -another for myself. “First, I brought you here to tell you that your -news outran you. I can repeat to you, word for word, the information -you were going to try to sell to Sir Henry Clinton.” - -I saw, the moment the words were uttered, that I had made the rashest -blunder. This spy was no ordinary tale-bearer to be hoodwinked -or bullied out of his cunning. The lines of his face grew more -hatchet-like and the sharp little eyes dwindled to pin-points. - -“Ha!” he said, with a shrill indrawing of his breath. “I thought your -voice seemed familiar, though I couldn’t place it at once. You had a -much better reason than the one you gave me for getting me to come away -from the headquarters, Captain Richard Page.” - -His naming of me was enough, and my stomach rebelled at the thought -that I would have to turn butcher and kill him, even as Champe had -planned to kill him. Yet I resolved to give him the benefit of the -doubt, if indeed, there were any doubt. - -“Tell me plainly what you think you know,” I said, looking away from -him. - -“I know that two men, a captain in Baylor’s Horse and a sergeant of -the Continental Army, are here in New York for the purpose of seizing -Benedict Arnold and carrying him back to Tappan. The sergeant I met -this morning, thanks to a two-faced gentleman who shall pay dearly for -his meddling; and the captain--” - -“Well,” said I; “and the captain?” - -His eyes lighted with a blaze of triumphant cunning. - -“You are a good actor, Captain Page, but not quite good enough. Will -you unbar the door and let me go? Or shall I call for help?” - -“Neither,” I rejoined briefly, drawing my sword and laying it across my -knees. “A movement out of your chair, or a tone louder than you have -been using, and you are a dead man, Mr. James Askew.” - -The threat quelled him, or rather I should say, it put him the keener -upon his wits. I saw nothing for it now but a bloody murder, and was -trying to nerve myself to it when he spoke again, smoothly insinuating. - -“We seem to have arrived at what our friends the French would call an -_impasse_, Captain Page,” he said quietly. “I can hang you; therefore -you dare not let me go. The alternative is for you to pass that shining -slip of steel through me two or three times; and that, too, has its -drawbacks. You don’t come of murdering stock, Captain Page, though I -don’t doubt you have killed your antagonist often enough in hot blood.” - -“I was thinking more of what I should do with your carcass after the -fact,” I objected bluntly. - -“Ah; that is another drawback--one which I overlooked at the moment. It -would be inconvenient to have a dead man in your room, with no way of -getting rid of the _corpus delicti_. But if I might offer a suggestion; -the river is not far away, and under cover of night you and your -sergeant might compass the funeral--though not without a possible risk.” - -His coolness, now that the real pinch had come, was amazing. I could -hardly believe this was the same man whom I had frightened into teeth -chatterings before Sir Henry Clinton’s door but a few minutes ago. - -“No,” he went on, in the same even tone, “the disposition of my poor -body is not what deters you. It is that other thing I mentioned--your -reluctance to premeditated blood-shedding. Now that is purely -conventional, if I may say so. To kill is to take life; and the mere -manner of its taking can make but little difference to the slayer, and -none at all to the victim. Yet the traditions are strong; and I am -relying quite confidently upon them, Captain Page.” - -“You seem to be,” I muttered grimly. “But there is a point beyond -which the traditions do not run. Setting aside the instinct of -self-preservation--which is stronger than any blood or breeding--your -life is justly forfeit. If you had your deserts, you would be lying in -some shallow grave beside Major André at this present hour. If I am -what you say I am, it is neither more nor less than my duty to carry -out the sentence of the court-martial which condemned you to hang as a -spy.” - -“But if you put that sentence into execution, Captain Page, you have -still failed to recapture your escaped secret,” he said. - -“How is that? Who else besides yourself knows it?” - -“The officer in the camp at Tappan who connived at my escape. I gave it -to him as the price of his help.” - -“Which is all the more reason why I should kill you, here and now, Mr. -Askew,” I insisted. - -“True; very true,” he rejoined musingly. “Yet you will not do it, -Captain Page.” - -“Why won’t I?” I demanded. - -“Chiefly because of the traditions we speak of. I am an unarmed -man--ah, my dear sir, you rashly lost a point in your own favor when -you took my poor weapons away from me--I am unarmed, as I say, and -can offer no more resistance to a man of your youth and weight than a -harmless, necessary cat. No, you will not break with the time-honored -code of your order--not even to save your life.” - -Slowly it was borne in upon me that the man was coolly braving me; nay, -more, he was daring me, taunting me. Yet all that he was saying was -most bitingly true. - -“What are you leading up to?” I asked shortly; and he spread his hands -in polite deprecation. - -“Did I not say that we were at the impassable point, Mr. Page?” - -“Yes; but you did not believe it. You are not talking to hear the sound -of your own voice.” - -“No; nor am I talking to gain time, though it may appear so to you. -Indeed, I fancy there is more safety in haste. If your black-faced -sergeant should happen in.... Now there is your chance, Captain Page. -Sit quietly where you are, with your bare sword to keep me where I am, -until your man comes back. Then you can shirk all responsibility and -the sergeant--lacking a gentleman’s traditions--will do the rest.” - -I thought this was the subtlest thrust of all; to point out delicately -that I should be responsible for what Champe might do. But there was no -escaping the conclusion. - -“Come to the point of your bargaining, Mr. Askew,” I commanded. “You -see a way out, and I don’t--other than the bloody one.” - -“Ah; now we are coming upon some more habitable ground. Outwardly, you -are a Loyalist, Mr. Page, and inwardly, I doubt not, a true patriot. -I am neither. I had thought of asking a hundred guineas for this news -I carry--it is not too much, you would say?--and it doesn’t matter a -boddle to me whose money it is. In other words, your gold will have as -true a ring in my ears as Sir Henry Clinton’s, or even Mr. Arnold’s.” - -“Bah!” I said; “you would take my money one minute and sell me to the -highest bidder the next.” - -He nodded slowly. “You have pointed out a risk--a certain risk to -yourself. I might not keep faith with you. Still, the chances are -somewhat in your favor. The matter you touched upon while we were -together in the street--the calumny connecting me with Major André’s -misfortune--would have its weight. Having sold you your timely lump of -silence and pocketed my price--” - -“You might be willing to let well enough alone and not try to double on -me? I think that is most unlikely, Mr. Askew. Don’t you?” - -“It is a nice point,” he said, as if deliberating on it. “On the one -hand, I have my hundred guineas without the risk. On the other, since I -was willing to take the risk to earn them from Clinton or Arnold, why -should I hesitate to try the doubling? Ah, I have it! You have heard -the saying that money is always cowardly, Mr. Page? With your hundred -guineas in my pocket, each cowardly guinea of them will be persuading -me to save its life--and yours.” - -I laughed. The thing had risen to the plane of humor. Here was a man -whose life lay in my hand, and he was trying, not to bribe me to -spare him, but to persuade me to give him a handsome present for the -privilege of sparing him! - -But when the laugh was over, the dilemma still remained, with its horns -as sharp as before. If I could not kill this scoundrel in cold blood, -neither could I turn him loose, with or without a golden bid for his -silence. I thought it out calmly and saw no middle way. The man must -die, but I would give him an honester man’s chance to die fighting. - -My saber was standing in the chimney corner where Champe had left it -the night before. I drew it from the sheath and laid it on the table, -with the hilt to my spy’s hand. - -“Take it and do your best,” I said. “We have spent too many words and -too much time.” - -But he merely shook his head soberly and locked his hands over one knee. - -“I should be a greater ninny than I hoped you took me for, to give you -so good an excuse for pinking me, Captain Page. I am no swashbuckling -horse-soldier, to tangle my legs in a sword, or to know how to use one.” - -Here was the _impasse_ again, with no way to circumvent it, that -I could see. What was I to do? With the long Scots’ rapier for a -walking-staff I began to pace the floor, cudgeling my brain to think of -some expedient that would secure our safety, Champe’s and mine, without -sinking one or both of us to the level of remorseless assassins. I had -not dreamed it would be so hard. Thumbing it over with Champe, the one -desirable thing seemed to be to get hold of this scoundrel before he -could leak the news that would efface us. But now he was secured, the -whole thing was to know what to do with him. - -Askew never moved a muscle as I strode back and forth behind his chair. -He sat perfectly still, staring into the blackened fireplace as if its -soot-covered interior had fascinated him. A dozen times I passed him, -and at each facing about he seemed to be staring the harder, with the -thin fingers more tightly interlocked over the suspended knee. Then-- - -I do not know how it came about, or why I spun on my heel and threw -the rapier up to guard my head. It was not for any warning either to -eye or ear that he gave me, certainly. But when I wheeled, the heavy -trooper’s sword was flashing in the air and my instinctive parry served -only to break the force of the blow--to turn it flat-bladed when it -was meant to be a cleaver-cut such as a butcher would aim at the meat -on his block. Then the half-lighted dusk of the long room burst into a -thousand scintillating stars, and I knew no more until I came back to -life with John Champe kneeling beside me and sopping my head with icy -water from the hand-basin. - -“The man--Askew?” I gasped, when I could find the words. “Is he gone?” - -“I don’t see him anywhere,” said the sergeant, making believe to peer -into the gathering shadows. Then he chuckled. “So it was Askew who gave -you this goose-egg on your skull, was it? But rest you easy, Captain -Dick; he has had time to swim the Hudson corner-wise before this. The -blood was dried in your hair when I found you lying here--and that was -a good quarter-hour ago.” - -I sat up on the floor, and the stars began to twinkle again. - -“Help me,” I muttered. “We must get out of this--now--this minute! That -double-faced fiend will be back again, with a file of soldiers at his -heels. Stir yourself, man, for heaven’s sake! I tell you he knows us -both--_and knows us for what we really are_!” - - - - -XIV - -A CASK OF BITTERS - - -EXPECTING nothing less than the spy’s return at the head of an -arresting party, we lost no time getting out of the tavern, Champe -going first, and I following when he gave the prearranged signal that -the coast was clear. - -Being safely out-of-doors, our next care was to put distance between us -and the threatening trap from which we had escaped. Taking the readiest -way that offered we hurried eastward through the burned district, -avoiding the barracks on one hand and the water-front on the other, -having no particular destination in view at first, and no plan other -than the simple one of losing ourselves as completely and speedily as -possible. - -In this dodging flight, on which we ran as the wicked do,--with no man -pursuing,--the sergeant was the file-leader. Having been in the town -for near two months, he knew its byways, and though the short winter -day was drawing on to its early dusk, he seemed never to be at fault in -our various windings and turnings. - -We were a good distance from the fort, and had borne eastward and -northward until the houses were growing far apart and scattering, when -Champe led the way to the right and we pressed on until we could hear -the waters of the East River lapping coldly on the shingle. By this -time the stars were coming out, and a thin sickle of a moon in its -first quarter hung in the western sky. In the chill, gray half-light a -house, isolated by its situation, and still farther set apart from its -neighbors by a high-fenced garden, loomed darkly before us, its windows -shuttered and its chimney smokeless. - -“Here is our burrow,” announced the sergeant, opening the garden gate -to admit us. Then, as I reeled rather than walked into the enclosure: -“Is Mr. Askew’s love pat still fretting you, Captain?” - -I said it was, and made light of it, though my head was buzzing like a -hive of angry bees. I had no notion of where Champe was taking me; and, -what with the pain and the desire to be warmed and at ease, I was not -curious enough to inquire. - -Quite as if he were the owner of the house, Champe strode to the door, -fitted a key in the lock, clicked it and bade me enter. But since the -room to which the door gave ingress was as dark as a pocket, I let him -show me the way. The interior was cold and discomforting, with the dead -chill which goes with closed doors and windows and long-extinguished -fires; and when the sergeant had shut and locked the door we were in -darkness thick enough to be cut with a knife. - -“Hold hard for a minute until I make a light, Captain Dick,” said the -voice of my companion, muffled, as it seemed to me, by the tangible -darkness. Then came the snicking of flint upon steel, a spark, a dull -glow in the tinder, and, a little later, a flame for a candle which, -when it was lighted, showed us a scantily furnished living-room in some -disorder, a table with dishes and the remainder of a meal standing in -the middle of the floor, and a hearth cold, but with the kindlings laid -ready for lighting. - -Champe thrust the candle flame among the dry pine splinters, and when -the blaze began to murmur in the chimney, he filled a kettle from the -water bucket bracketed on the wall and hung it on the crane. At this -juncture my curiosity came to life. - -“Give it a Dutch name, Champe; whose house is this you’re making so -free with?” I demanded, drawing a chair up to the table and sitting -down to hold my buzzing head in my hands. - -“You’ve guessed it at the first word,” chuckled the sergeant. “It’s the -Dutch boat-builder’s house, sure enough--or it was before I buried him -in the cellar and took possession in the name of General Washington and -the Continental Congress. That’s my dinner you’re looking at--or what -remains of it. And there’s more where that came from--such as it is.” - -“But the man?” I exclaimed in honest horror. “You didn’t murder him, -Champe?” - -“That’s as it may be. I wrapped him up in some of his own boat cordage, -with a knotted turn of it between his teeth for quietness’ sake, and -lowered him into the hold. Alive or dead, he’ll be there now, if the -rats haven’t eaten him.” - -“This won’t do at all, Sergeant!” I protested in shocked deprecation. -“The fact that the man happened to own a boat which we needed is no -reason why we should turn rawhead-and-bloody-bones pirates. Bring the -candle and show me where you have put him.” - -“Going to have him up for our supper guest, Captain Dick? He’ll be most -awkwardly in the way, won’t he?” - -“Never mind; bring the candle and show me the way. Why, good heavens, -man! what has the poor devil done that we should treat him as if we -were red Indians? He may be one of our friends, for aught we know!” - -“He’s a Dutchman, and he builds small-boats for the king’s ships,” -growled Champe stubbornly; but he took up the candle and piloted the -way to a room in the rear, a bare shed of a place, with fire-wood -stacked along two sides of it, a dismantled baking oven buttressing the -chimney of the fore-room, and a great pile of the bricks heaped upon a -huge square trap-door leading to the cellar. From a ceiling beam above -the trap a stout iron hook depended, as if the cellar had been a ship’s -hold to be filled and emptied with a block and tackle. - -Champe put his candle on the oven ruins and addressed himself to the -task of removing the door weightings. The uncovering revealed a ring -sunk in the planking of the trap, and when the door was lifted, an -ill-smelling black cavern, with rude steps leading down into it, came -into view. - -The sergeant swung into the dank pit and held up his hand for the -candle. - -“Give me the glim and I’ll fetch him out,” he said. “There’s no need -for two of us.” And when the yellow glow of the candle disappeared in -the liquor-smelling depths I was left in the dark. - -It seemed a long time before the glow reddened again in the darkness -below as Champe made his way back to the stair-head. - -“Come down, Captain Dick, if your head’s steady enough,” he called. -“I’m fairly stuck.” - -I promptly lowered myself into the hole, with the sergeant lighting the -way for me. The cellar was a curiously spacious underground store-room -for so small a house, wide and to the full as high as the rooms -above, and the liquor odor was amply accounted for by a double row of -great casks, ranked against the walls. Then I saw the meaning of the -trap-door’s size, and of the hook set in the beam above it. - -“Your Dutchman is something both more and less than a boat-builder, -Sergeant,” I commented. “This is a smuggler’s store-house. But where is -he?” - -“That’s what I’d like to know,” said my companion in a mystified tone; -and presently he was showing me the cords with which the man had been -bound--enough of them to have swathed the captive from neck to ankles. - -The knots had been untied, not cut, and the ropes had evidently been -tossed aside in haste. But there was no man entangled in their meshes, -and nothing to point out his way of escape from the cellar. - -We looked everywhere, as we thought, and carefully, for with this man -at large there was an added danger to be faced. How he could have -escaped from the cellar was a mystery which was still unsolved after -we had examined as we thought, every foot of exposed wall surface for -another outlet and had found none. - -“We have missed it somehow,” I insisted, when we had made a second -circuit of the place, peering behind the casks of liquor and probing, -as we imagined, every nook and corner that would have hidden a cat. -“There is a secret way out of here, somewhere, and your man has taken -it. Let us hope he will stay away until we have borrowed what we need -of food and shelter and transport.” - -“I’ll drink to that hope,” said my sergeant, who had found an earthen -pot and a cask up-ended with a spigot piercing it near its lower chime. - -I told him to drink heartily and give the house a good name, but at -the first mouthful he strangled and spat and spilled the potful of the -liquor in the straw. - -“Faugh!” he grimaced. “I thought I knew all the flavors that can come -out of a barrel, but this is sure the major-general of them all for -nastiness! _Whoosh!_ it tastes as if all the old boots of the British -Army had been steeped in it for a month!” - -“And yet some other man would no doubt choose it before good, sound old -Madeira,” I returned, climbing the steps to the cleaner air of the room -above. And when Champe was up: “Shut the trap, Sergeant, so we may eat -our suppers without the reminders. It would make a drunkard sick to -stay within nose distance of that foul hole.” - -Back at our fireplace in the fore-room, we found the kettle boiling -merrily. Champe discovered a tea-chest among the boat-builder’s -provisions, and a hot cup of tea, made strong enough to float an egg, -speedily cleared my head of the bee-tangles, and let me punish, with as -good an appetite as the sergeant’s, the black bread and cheesy butter, -greased down with cuts from the haunch of boiled ham that Champe had -spared from his midday meal. - -Not to miss any of the comforts afterward, we rummaged a bit of -tobacco out of the Dutchman’s closet, together with a couple of the -long-stemmed china-bowled pipes of the Netherlands; and, could we have -been assured that we should remain undisturbed for the hour or two that -must elapse before it would be safe to take the to-be-borrowed boat out -of the Dutchman’s shop at the river-end of the garden, and in it seek -fresh adventures, there would have been nothing left to wish for. - -But there are no assurances in this world of chance-takings. We did -not know what moment our boat-builder might turn up, with a gang of -smugglers or others at his elbow, and with a just cause of quarrel big -enough to warrant anything he might do to us. Moreover, there was Mr. -James Askew, also at large, and doubtless seeking for us as the woman -of Scripture, who lit her candle and swept her house diligently until -she found her lost piece of money. Moreover, again, there was the Irish -grog-seller, whose silence, bought and paid for though it was, was -worth little more than a perjurer’s oath. - -“Well, let’s be doing,” I said, when we had wrought through a pipeful -or two of the boat-builder’s tobacco, and the weight of the various -“moreovers” was beginning to grow oppressive. “Will your Dutchman -happen to have such a thing as a lantern about his house?” - -The sergeant went to rummage in the outer room, coming back almost -immediately to ask if I had heard a noise. - -“Nothing but the wind in the chimney,” I said. - -“I did,” said Champe, listening attentively. “It was like the soft -slamming of a door, and I thought it was in here.” - -“Not here, certainly. There is no door but the front one, and that is -locked as you left it.” - -“All right; then I didn’t hear it,” he contradicted, and went out again -to continue the lantern hunt. - -The next time it was I who heard the noise, which sounded like a blow -struck upon an empty cask. Tip-toeing out, I laid a finger on Champe’s -shoulder, and his nervous start was a measure of the pitch to which we -were both keyed. - -“Hist!” I whispered; “your Dutchman has come back to his cellar!” - -The sergeant cocked an ear and we both listened intently. There were no -more alarms, and the silence of the grave seemed to have settled on the -lonesome house. - -“What did you hear?” queried my companion, when the silence had become -unendurable. - -“Some one kicking an empty cask. Lift that trap again while I hold the -light for you.” - -Champe stooped and raised the heavy door, and again the rank smell of -the liquor, more overpowering than before, rose into the room. None -the less, Champe dropped into the vault, skipping the first half-dozen -steps of the ladder-like stair; and when he was down I gave him the -candle and followed. - -To all appearances the spacious cellar was as we had left it an hour -before, though I could not rid myself of the notion that the smell of -the liquor was vastly stronger. We passed again between the rows of -casks, the sergeant with the flaring candle held high. In the farthest -corner the bunch of tangled cords still lay where the boat-builder, -escaping from his bonds, had flung it down. - -“Nothing different,” was Champe’s remark; and then some devil of -suggestion put the idea into his head which was like to cost us more -than we knew how to pay. “Sound the casks,” he said. “Maybe some of -them are empty.” - -I began it on my side with my sword-hilt, and the first resounding -thwack brought the catastrophe. As if the blow had touched a hidden -spring, the head flew out of the up-ended cask near the trap, and a -dripping, reeking little man climbed agilely out of it and darted up -the steep stair, with Champe and me knocking each other down in the -effort to overtake him. Followed swiftly the crash of the trap-door -falling into place, and intermittent thunder as of a brick wall -tumbling into sections upon the floor above--thunder eloquent of the -fact that the fugitive was taking a leaf out of Champe’s own book and -weighting the trap for us as the sergeant had weighted it for him. - -The wind, or the shock of the falling door, had extinguished our -candle, and we were in total darkness. But Champe had his flint and -steel and tinder box, and the tallow dip, for what small good it might -do us, was soon flaring again. - -“That was a master bright idea of yours, Sergeant Champe,” I commented -grimly, when the noise overhead had ceased, and we were left to silence -and our own thoughts. “If you had only added that we should begin with -the cask which was most likely to hold our Jack-in-the-box--but it came -wrong end foremost, like everything else in this wretched mission of -ours!” - -Champe was smacking his lips reminiscently and paying scant attention -to my irony. - -“Never say I can’t tell soaked boots when I taste them,” he broke out -triumphantly. Then the disgust of it suddenly overcame him and he spat -again. “Yah! when next I lay hands on that Dutchman, I’ll make him -drink every drop of it he has left behind.” - -“‘First catch your hare,’” I quoted. “As matters stand now, we are the -trapped ones, and it was very neatly done. I think we are likely to -stay here until this boat-builder can go and find some of his smuggler -friends to help him collect his bill for damages. And it will be a -pretty long score, too, wouldn’t you say?” - -“Long enough,” was the reply; “though I didn’t mishandle him any more -than I had to, to make sure of the boat for to-night. A boat we must -have, says you; and orders are orders, for Jack Champe. But let’s try a -push on that trap--until we find out if he’s piled the whole oven a-top -of us.” - -The lift from the steps was clearly impossible. Only one of us could -stand to shoulder the door at once, and when we had both tried and -failed, we rolled a cask under the opening and so got the double heave. - -“Lift, Captain!” grunted Champe; “lift till your eyes hang out!” and so -I did, and so did he; but the loaded door never stirred. The Dutchman -had done his work faithfully and well. - -The sergeant came down from the steps with the veins in his forehead -swelled to great whipcords. - -“I’ve put three hundred pounds of tobacco to the height of my shoulder -with less wind-cutting,” he panted, scraping the sweat from his face -with a crooked forefinger. And then: “I’ll never trap a rat again while -I live, Captain Dick. I know now how it feels.” - -“We won’t give up yet,” I cut in. “There must be some way out of this -hole. If it were a common house-cellar, there would be no need; but as -a store-house for smugglers ... they’d never leave themselves without a -back door for emergencies. Take that side first, and we’ll sound every -stone in the walls, if need be.” - -This time we were made to know how carelessly we had searched in the -former instance. Behind a tier of casks, which were ranked so closely -against the wall as completely to conceal it, was a low arched opening -closed by a stout door with neither lock nor hinges. With no tools -heavier than our swords, we could not force it; and when we drummed -upon it, it gave back the blows solidly, as if it were backed by a bank -of earth or another wall. - -“That is why our Dutchman hid in the cask and waited for his chance,” -said Champe, when the low door had baffled us completely. “He couldn’t -open this dodge-way, himself.” - -After that, we left nothing untried for the time we had at our -disposal. The walls were carefully sounded, stone by stone, the -straw on the floor was swept aside and the flagging received the -same unsparing scrutiny. Failing all else, we meant to try digging -out the mortar joints around a stone in that part of the wall which -Champe remembered as the highest above ground on the outside--this -with our swords’ points. But we put that off until the last for the -best of reasons. It was not unlikely that we should need the weapons -for another purpose before long, and it would be an ill thing to have -either of them broken or dulled. - -We were facing this last resort in silence, with the misshapen candle -guttering down to its final two inches, when the suspense ended in the -crash of a rudely opened door in the room overhead, the trampling of -many feet and a hoarse murmur of voices. Our devil of a boat-builder -had returned, bringing other devils with him. I held my watch to the -flickering light. - -“Ten o’clock, Sergeant; and we have only two hours before midnight,” -said I. “How long will it take us to pull the boat you speak of around -to Arnold’s garden, if so be we are lucky enough to have a chance to -man the oars?” - -“An hour, maybe, if we don’t have to go too far a-sea to dodge the -guard boats.” - -“Good. Then we have something less than an hour in which to claw or -fight our way out of this and get afloat. Work your brain with that end -in view, John Champe: our lives are but a means to an end, which is to -drag the greatest villain of his time back to justice. Don’t lose sight -of that if we have to fight for it; but we’ll not fight if we can help -it. Back to that dodge-door again, and we’ll see if we can’t hit upon -some way to force it.” - - - - -XV - -IN THE FOG - - -CHAMPE nodded and we passed together behind the row of casks concealing -the low arched doorway. Wedging the candle in a niche of the stone wall -we made another examination of the mysteriously fastened door. Common -sense cried aloud that it must be openable in some way from the inside; -that no door save that of a jail was ever built otherwise. - -“Maybe it will be one of these jamb stones that will unlock it,” Champe -suggested; so we laid hold and pushed and pulled on first one and then -another of the stones framing the opening. At the third trial we found -one that seemed slightly loose and gave a little, and after that, stuck -fast and gave no more. But when we put our united strength to it again, -it yielded slowly, leaving an angled opening to some dark space beyond, -in which Champe was presently thrusting an exploring arm. - -“I have it,” he declared. There was a sound as of wooden bolts leaving -their sockets, and the door swung open to my shoulder-push, heavily -because of a weighting of sand-bags with which it was hung, doubtless -to deaden sounds from within or without, we did not know which. - -“’Tis plain as a pikestaff now why the pickled Dutchman stayed till we -came,” was Champe’s muttered comment. “He hadn’t the gizzard in him to -move that stone by himself.” - -We had crawled safely through the archway, and into a roomy underground -passage beyond it, before we heard a squeaking of pulleys betokening -a lifting of the kitchen trap-door by means of a block and tackle. -Champe was for hurrying, having an outdoor man’s horror of being forced -to fight in an underground burrow, but while I shared this reluctance -with him to the full, I delayed long enough to close the weighted door -for the halt it might impose upon our pursuers. When he saw what I -was about, Champe quickly lent a hand, and what was still more to the -purpose, his mechanical head. Slipping one of the wooden bar-bolts from -its sockets, he braced it angle-wise against the door so that nothing -short of a battering-ram could force an opening from the cellar-side. - -Our chasers, whoever they were, were down the stair and at the barrier -wall by this time, and a bolt-sliding hand was reaching through the -jamb-stone hole while we were hammering our brace into place. Champe -grinned ferociously and held the candle flame for a single instant to -the back of the groping hand, grinning again at the snatched withdrawal -and the yell of pain that went with it; whereupon we fled, praying that -the underground tunnel might lead us to the boat-house at the foot of -the garden, or if not there, at least to the water side. - -It did end, as we hoped it might, in the boat-builder’s shop at the -water’s edge, and now there was little question but that the boat-house -and the cellar served the purpose of a gang of smugglers. Our craft, -the light ship’s tender for the acquiring of which we had like to have -paid the price of our lives, lay on the launching ways. A stroke of -Champe’s sword severed the painter, and with the fresh sea air to wash -the vile fumes of the cellar from our lungs, we set our shoulders to -the bows, running with the light boat to give it momentum, and flinging -ourselves in on either side at the water-taking plunge. - -The shapely little craft shot well out from the shore, clearing the -beach by a long pistol-shot before it lost headway. For some minute or -so we lay motionless and kept silence. There was a light in the house -out of which we had just burrowed, but we heard no sounds of a fresh -alarm. The sergeant chuckled as if he had just come from a merrymaking. - -“I think they’ll be all muddle-headed Dutchmen in that smuggling -brotherhood, Captain Dick!” he scoffed gently. “To think they wouldn’t -leave a few stout fellows to guard the boat-shop when they knew that -rabbit-burrow would take us straight to it!” - -“We’ll not quarrel with any muddle-headedness of that sort,” I said; -and thereupon we shipped the oars noiselessly and pulled softly away -from the shore, turning the boat’s head southward and westward only -when we felt sure we had gained an offing which would carry us outside -of the line of guard ships. - -Our guess was good this time. We had pulled cautiously for full -half the distance we had to go, and had safely passed three of the -coast-guarding vessels, dim bulks lying between us and the shore, when -a fog came creeping up from the lower bay. Champe saw it first and -pointed out the hazard it would bring. - -“We must pull smarter for it, Captain Dick,” he whispered over his -shoulder. “We’ll be no better than blind men in a strange town if that -floating cloud catches up with us.” - -So he said, and so I thought, and so it presently proved when the fog -closed in about us. We had no compass, and could only hold on as nearly -as we could guess in the direction we thought we ought to go. Once we -made sure we heard the tramp of the sentry on the battlements of the -fort, and the low-voiced challenge of guard-relieving,--which would -make the time eleven o’clock,--but before we could be certain of these -sounds we were tangled again as to our directions, and the next sounds -that came to us were the bumping of our boat’s bows against the side of -a ship, and a hoarse voice shouting, “Avast there, you lubbers! Unship -your oars and lie still or I’ll fire into you!” - - - - -XVI - -THE CUP OF TANTALUS - - -TAKING it all in all, it seems that we should have come promptly to the -conclusion that, on this raw night of the seventeenth of December, the -stars in their courses were fighting against us; that our own lucky -star, if we had any, was a million miles below the horizon. - -At the gruff hail from the ship we had collided with, there was nothing -for it but to lie on our oars, and to take what was coming to us. I -expected a peremptory command to come aboard; but instead, a boat-hook -was reached down to hold us as we were, a lantern was lowered in our -direction, and the officer of the watch demanded to know who we were -and what we were doing. - -Here was a chance for the exercising of my most promising gift, and I -improved it instantly. - -“If this is a king’s ship, we are wearing his majesty’s colors. If not, -you may go to the devil with your questions,” I made answer, with all -the coolness I could muster. - -“Your names, your business, and the night password!” roared our -questioner, losing patience, as I thought he would. - -“We don’t yield any of the three to every jack-in-a-box ensign who bobs -up to ask them,” I retorted blandly. “Go and call your captain, my -friend.” - -Judging by the choking and spluttering going on in the upper dimnesses -I thought our officer, a little man with bullet eyes and a turned-up -nose, would have a fit. When he had sworn himself into some atmosphere -of coherence he commanded us to tumble aboard, or by all the sea-gods -he would keelhaul us first and hang us at the yard-arm afterward. -Whereupon I laughed pleasantly, and told him we should do well enough -as we were if he would let us have a compass by which to find our way -ashore. - -That brought him down to us, hand-under-hand on the first rope he could -lay hold of; and when he dropped into our cockle-shell we had much ado -to keep him from swamping it or himself. - -“Up the side, the pair of you!” he blustered, lugging out a huge -pistol; and then the light of the lantern showed him our Loyal American -facings and my captain’s shoulder-knot, and he changed countenance. - -“Sit down, Ensign,” said I, “and be at ease. You’ll spill us if you’re -not careful.” And when Champe had slyly rocked the boat to emphasize -the invitation: “Now, perhaps, you will be good enough to tell us which -way to steer to make the landing at Fort George.” - -“Your pardon, Captain,” he said, the bluster all gone out of him. “You -are but a cable’s length from the fort. But the orders are strict. You -have the password?” - -I gave it. - -“And your rank and standing?” - -“Captain in the Loyal American Legion, and acting aide to General -Arnold, detailed for this night on special duty. And my companion is a -sergeant in the same service, pulling an oar for me. Is there anything -else you would like to know, Ensign?” - -“H’m,” he said reflectively. “A lieutenant and a sergeant was what they -said to be on the lookout for, but that may have been a mistake.” And -then, with a furtive glance at the priming of his great pistol: “I’m -sorry to insist, Captain, but I shall have to ask you to come aboard -with me. Orders are orders, and they must be obeyed.” - -“But why?” I protested. “If you detain me it is at your own risk. My -affair is General Arnold’s, and it does not admit of delay.” - -“If you are really General Arnold’s aide, you will know more than I -can tell you,” he made answer. “It is rumored that two men, an officer -and a soldier from Mr. Washington’s army, are here for the purpose -of abducting Benedict Arnold, and the rumor says that they came as -deserters from the rebels and enlisted in Mr. Arnold’s legion. Be that -as it may, two men of the Loyal Americans, a lieutenant and a sergeant, -are reported missing, and we have orders to look out for them. You see -the situation, Captain?” - -Truly, I did; and it was a very sorry situation, indeed. There could -be but one explanation. James Askew had sold his news to Clinton or -Arnold, and the orders were out to apprehend us. It was but a slip -that the missing “captain” figured as a lieutenant on the lips of our -ensign; and the sergeant’s rank was correctly stated. So far as I knew, -we two, Champe and I, were the only stragglers from the legion; Champe -was known to have left his transport ship, and neither of us knew what -had transpired after mid-afternoon, when I had left Arnold putting his -wife into the hackney coach with Beatrix, and had gone to sink my hook -into Mr. Askew’s gills. - -As far as I could see, we were fairly netted. Once aboard the schooner -under whose counter we were lying, and it was but a step to Fort George -and its dungeons, and another, and still shorter one, from the prison -to the gallows. - -The red-faced little ensign had dropped into the stern-sheets of our -boat, and so he sat facing us. I guessed now that he had no captain; -that he was the ranking officer of the small guard-ship. Otherwise, his -superior would have been on deck long before this, hurling questions at -us. If we could but win the red-faced one-- - -I could not see Champe, who was behind me on the forward thwart. But -when the ensign stood up and called to the boat-hook man to haul us -amidships, I felt the grim sergeant’s determination in the thrill of -the light craft under me. Catching the one fortuitous moment when the -ensign was extending a hand to fend us off from the schooner’s side, -Champe entangled his oar between the boat and the ship’s bilge, made -an awkward effort to disengage it, and clumsily lost his balance, -careening the boat with such a sudden jerk that the red-faced little -officer went overboard in a clean, sharp headlong plunge. - -Whether it was Champe’s intention to drown the officer, offhand, or -merely to make a diversion out of which something might grow to our -benefit, I never knew. But the diversion was a fact accomplished, -beyond doubt. With lusty sailor shouts, the man with the boat-hook gave -the alarm, and to the watch on deck was added the watch below, which -came tumbling up at the cry of “Man overboard!” Naturally, with no -lights, and with the fog thickening on every fresh breath of the sea -wind, the men on the schooner did nothing but get in one another’s way; -and the ensign who, like many another sailor, could swim no more than -a stone, would have drowned a dozen times before they got their tender -down from the davits at the stern. - -But now I had my small inspiration, and with a quick word to Champe to -secure his intelligent help, it was put into effect. It was a simple -expedient, namely, to keep our boat within easy snatching distance of -the drowning officer, and then to haul him aboard when he was too well -soaked and frozen to remember his orders--all of which we did in the -proper sequence, and with the desired result. - -The pug-nosed little man was no longer red-faced when we passed him up -the side of the schooner and into the hands of his excited crew, and no -one said us nay when we sheered off silently into the fog afterward, -and diligently lost ourselves once more. - -That was no joke. We did lose ourselves beautifully this second time, -and when, after what figured to us as two or three of the longest hours -ever measured by falling sand grains, our boat took ground with a -sidelong lurch, we had no more idea than a pair of innocents what land -it might be. - -Here came our first disagreement. Champe was for sheering off again -and waiting for the fog to lift: I said no; that the fog might not -lift until dawn, and, in any event, we must land somewhere, sometime. -The sergeant gave way, finally, but not without many misgivings openly -expressed. Luck was not with us, he said, and it would be our unblest, -crooked hap to walk straight into the arms of some of those who were -looking for us. - -In divided counsels, therefore, we took our stiffened limbs out of -their boat crampings, and stamped and beat our arms and got the -sluggish blood in motion before we dragged our craft high and dry, and -set out to scramble up the steep bank fronting our landing-place. At -the top, to our astonishment, we were above the thin skim of fog that -lay like a veil on the surface of the water, and could see dimly the -surrounding objects. - -The first of these was a man, walking slowly and with measured steps -toward us on the bank’s edge. - -“A sentry,” muttered the sergeant, and we flattened ourselves silently -where we were till the soldier passed us, creeping swiftly forward to -cross the line a minute later. - -Not above a stone’s throw from the waterside we were brought to a stand -by a barrier of some sort which, to the sense of touch, proclaimed -itself to be a high wooden fence. It was here that Champe gripped my -arm and drew me down beside him. - -“The luck’s turned, Captain Dick!” he whispered excitedly. “Of all the -thousand places where we might have landed, we’ve drifted blindly to -the one we were aiming for! This is our garden, and here is the board -you kicked loose when you were walking with Sir Judas night before -last!” - -It was as true as it was blankly incredible. The board pointed out by -Champe lay just as it had fallen, and peering through the gap it had -left, we could see the dark bulk of Arnold’s house, with Sir Henry -Clinton’s shouldering it on the right. - -There were no lights in any of the windows, and the garden, when we had -entered it through the gap in the fence, was silent and deserted, as -might be expected at such an hour. We were in the shadow of the house -itself when I bade Champe strike a spark into his tinder box to let us -tell the time. It was past two o’clock, though how much past I could -not tell, since I had forgotten to wind my watch and it had stopped -exactly on the hour. - -Determining this, we held a whispered consultation. It was terribly -late to press our plan to its conclusion, and Champe urged this, -arguing most sensibly that, if we had all good fortune from this on, -we could not hope to row far on the way to Tappan before the daylight -would show us to all who cared to see; that with the tide against us we -would not be past the British boat patrols by sunrise. - -On the other hand, I contended that it might very well be now or never. - -“You heard what the guard-ship ensign said: if daylight finds us in New -York, this day’s sun will be the last we’ll ever see, for they tell me -they hang their caught spies at midnight. Our alternative is to take to -the boat again and try to escape as we can. But if we try to do this, -we may as well take Arnold with us. If we are caught, we hang, anyway, -and none the less certainly if we are caught empty-handed.” - -Champe saw the force of this, as I was sure he would; and if his teeth -were chattering when we set about breaking into the house, why so were -mine for that matter, and I protest it was from the raw chill of the -morning and not from fear. - -Our breaking and entering was easily accomplished. A window in a rear -room gave to the cautious prying of Champe’s saber point; and from that -room, which, as I knew, was used for stores, to the lower corridor, or -entrance hall, we came by forcing the lock of the communicating door. - -I half expected to find an aide or an orderly sleeping in this lower -hall, if, indeed, there should not be a sentry, awake and on guard. But -there was neither nor none of these. The hall was deserted and silent; -and when we drew the curtains of the side-lights at the front, there -was no sentry outside, save the one whose footfalls we could faintly -hear as he marched back and forth before Sir Henry Clinton’s quarters. - -Here again, then, fortune appeared to be favoring us most astoundingly. -It was almost unbelievable that the man we meant to seize and carry -off was sleeping quietly, and wholly at our mercy, in the room above. -But, unless his guard was in the room with him, there was none in the -house; of this we made sure as a condition precedent to our creeping -silently up the stairs. - -Before the closed door of the office-bedroom I gave the sergeant final -whispered instructions; this after we had softly tried the door and -found, to our greater astonishment, that it was unlocked. - -“When we are in, you will follow me, Sergeant; I know the placing of -the furniture and where the bed stands. The word is silence, absolute; -once awakened, Arnold will fight--no man more desperately. But you -know this as well as I. At the bedside you will fall upon him and bind -him, trusting to me to keep him quiet with the rapier point. Do your -work quickly and thoroughly, and use this door-key in your knotted -handkerchief for a gag. Are you ready?” - -“Ready and waiting, Captain Dick,” was the muttered reply; and we swung -the door slowly on its hinges. - -Though there were ample windows in both ends of it, the long room was -dark. But now our eyes had become somewhat accustomed to these inner -glooms, and we could make out the dim shapes of the furnishings nearest -to us; the writing-table, the chairs, the clumsy, cushioned settle -drawn out before the cold hearth. - -Groping our way by slow inchings along the opposite wall, we finally -came to the alcove holding the bed, a high, canopied contrivance of -the older fashion, with heavy curtains to shut it in. I could have -sworn I heard the traitor’s gentle breathing when I laid a cautious -hand on the curtains to draw them aside. “Now!” I whispered; and as the -curtains parted, Champe sprang like a tiger through the opening and I -felt quickly for the man’s face on the pillows to guide the rapier’s -point for the silencing. - -There was no face on the pillows; no human figure outlined beneath the -covers; which were drawn up smoothly as the traitor’s chamber-man, or --woman, had left them. We had struck our blow and it had missed! - -Champe sat up on the edge of the bed, and I heard his low chuckling -laugh. - -“Shall I bind and gag the pillow, Captain Dick?” he asked sardonically; -and then he burst out in a soft-voiced torrent of the most fearsome -curses. “The devil takes choice care of his own,” he gritted, at the -far end of the outburst. “Four times have I had this Judas fairly -in my hands, and four times he has whipped out of them! Not once -before in all these two months has he slept away from here, Captain -Dick--I’d swear it! And now, on this one night of all the sixty-odd.... -Well, shall we go down to the fort and turn ourselves over to the -provost-guard?” - -For the moment it seemed as reasonable as anything else that remained -for us to do. But youth dies hard; and youth with the Page blood -jumping in its veins the hardest of all. - -“They call me a daredevil, at home, John Champe,” I said evenly, “and -Mr. Hamilton named me so when he asked me to go to help you. I have a -mind to do the maddest thing you ever dreamed of, which has its one -chance in a million of saving our necks only because it is mad. Do you -try it with me?” - -“Lord, yes,” said the sergeant wearily, “even if it’s to crawl in here -between Arnold’s blankets and let him find us so when he comes.” - -“You may say it is quite as sure a road to Gallows Hill as that would -be,” I assented. “But come on: first we must leave the bed and this -house exactly as we found them. Can you straighten and smooth the -covers without a light?” - -He said he could, and when he was through we drew the curtains, and -took our route in reverse, misplacing nothing, and even staying to put -the forced store-room lock back as we had found it. Once more in the -garden, we kept to the graveled walk to show no tell-tale foot-prints; -and at the fence we were careful to place the fallen board precisely as -it had lain before we had kicked it aside to gain our entrance. - -Five minutes later, we had dodged the sentry again, and had lowered -ourselves cautiously to the river brink, where our boat was drawn out. -Watching our chance against the pacing sentry, we floated the little -craft silently, loaded it with stones enough to kill its buoyancy, and -filled it almost to the gunwale with water. Then we made the painter -fast to a rock at the river’s edge, pushed the boat out into deep -water, and sank it with a quick jerk on the rope. - -“I should have sent it adrift, and no more said,” commented the -sergeant. “And I don’t see yet why you didn’t, Captain Dick,” he said. - -“Never mind,” I rejoined. “You’re calling yourself a dead man, now, and -so you needn’t worry with the ‘whys’--though I don’t mind explaining -the present one. We’ve been at a good bit of trouble getting hold of -that boat, and if we can make shift to keep the breath in our bodies -for a few hours longer, we may need it again. That’s all. Now come with -me, and obey your orders to the letter.” - -Once again we scrambled up the bank, dodged the sleepy sentinel, passed -to the street by a détour, and so came boldly to the front of the house -we had broken into. Then I told Champe what we were to do. - -“Make a complete soldier of yourself, now, Sergeant, and follow two -steps behind me. We shall pace a sentry-beat up and down before the -house from this on, until Arnold returns and finds us here. When he -comes, you will salute and stand at parade, and look as weary as you -can to back what I shall say to him. Mark time--march!” - - - - -XVII - -MASKED BATTERIES - - -WITHOUT a word, Champe fell in two paces to the rear and caught the -step, and thus began the weariest and I do think the most forlorn-hope -vigil that was ever kept. For its patient keeping the sergeant deserves -the greater credit, for I at least knew how I meant to try a desperate -cast to bring us out of our looped gallows ropes, but Champe knew -nothing save that I had formed a peg of some sort to hang a hope upon. - -Tired and hungry, cold and cramped from our long confinement in the -small boat as we were, the disappointment of the empty bed and bedroom -had crushed and benumbed us. It was a dead wall from which courage -refused to rebound; a pit to swallow the bravest resolution; a clog for -our feet and shackles for our wrists. I do not speak for Champe; but -for myself, if the meanest soldier in the British garrison had come to -tell me I was his prisoner, I think his bare word would have made me -tag along after him like a cowed spaniel. - -And the dreadful length of it! While we were fighting our way up the -ladder of the hours, with midnight and the accomplishment of our -purpose for the goal, time passed us on the wing. But now the minutes -dragged leaden-footed. It seemed as though the dawn would never come. -Fort George, looming grim and forbidding in the darkness no more than a -musket-shot from the seaward end of our pacing sentry-beat, might have -been a citadel of the dead; a huge mausoleum with never a living soul -to tenant it. Even the tavern, where you would suppose some one would -be stirring at any hour in the twenty-four, was silent and dark and -apparently deserted. - -It was an ill time for good thoughts, and, conversely, the very pick -and choice of times for the tormenting kind. What masked batteries, -trained to blow us into eternity, would the rising sun reveal? We had -the little red-nosed navy ensign’s word for it that we had been missed -and that the hue and cry had been raised; that the hunt headed, no -doubt, by the spy Askew, was already up. Would we be taken before I -could try the last brazen-faced throw of the dice? Just here, before -this door we were making a mock of guarding, I had parted from my -loved one with the heart of gold only a few short hours ago: should I -ever see Beatrix Leigh again?--or the men about our own troop fires in -the Hudson hills?--or the old home in tidewater Virginia? It seemed -altogether unlikely. - -And Beatrix; what would she say and do when she should hear the news -and realize that, while I was no such despicable traitor as she had -believed me to be, I was, none the less, to die a traitor’s death with -a cord around my neck? Or, rather, was it not most unlikely that she -would ever hear of it at all until after the eternal gulf had opened -its abysmal chasm between us? - -Over and again I tried to break away from these thought-furies; to set -calm reason on her seat, and to gather resolution for the impending -battle of the wits upon the outcome of which our two lives depended. -Never had I striven so hard for calmness and self-control; never was -the need greater, and never did the attainment seem more blankly -impossible. I was unutterably fagged and exhausted; our antagonist -would be fresh from a night’s rest, clear-eyed, with every faculty -sharpened and alert. I must fight defensively on the slippery ground of -deceit and dissimulation, while my opponent had all the advantages of -the attack. - -By some strange good fortune I had been able hitherto to deceive -Arnold, by nature the most wary and suspicious of men; but sooner or -later there must come a turn in the longest road, and I was racked and -tormented by the fear that we were now approaching it. Conned over in -its details, the expedient I had hit on seemed foolhardy to a degree -and most pitifully unconvincing. Yet it was the only one, and I must -try it at all hazards. And as often as I came into collision with the -stern necessity, the despairing cry rose up out of the underdepths, -“Oh, that the morning would come and let us be at the end of this!” - -Champe never spoke to me once in all that doleful marching back -and forth, nor I to him. I mistrusted that he had his own personal -kettle of fish to fry, and that his cooking fire was smoldering -evilly or blazing too high as often as mine. But he was not a man -to vocalize his soul-wrestlings; and, besides, he had a soldier’s -choicest gift--complete reliance on his commanding officer, and a blind -confidence that the brain which was paid to do the thinking would -somehow contrive to think to some good purpose. - -I shall always remember with reminiscent thrillings how welcome were -the first signs of approaching day; the lifting of the fog over the -river, and beyond that, its graying and thinning to transparency; -the long roll of the drums sounding the reveille in the fort; the -slamming open of shutters as the houses awoke; the cheerful clatter of -Hetheridge’s horse as the young orderly rode up to Sir Henry’s door and -dismounted. - -After a little the fog soared aloft to transform itself into wisp-like -clouds high overhead, and the eastern sky reddened, and a horse-boy, -whistling André’s _Cow Chase_ lately set to music, came out in front -of the tavern and began to take down the shutters. Then a housemaid, -with her bucket of steaming water and cloths and brushes, opened the -door and knelt to scrub the steps. And still the sergeant and I tramped -heavily to and fro and waited; and still the man who had slept away -from his house did not return. - -It was now that the delay began to eat like acid into our very bones. -Preparation, a stout bracing for the plunge, is all well enough in its -way; but too much of it will curdle the blood in the bravest veins and -make a trembling coward of the biggest hero that ever wore laurel. -Champe never knew or suspected it, I hope, but for me there were -moments after that dawn-breaking when a desire to fly to any sand heap -big enough to dig me a burrow in, was almost overpowering. - -The suspense came to an end at length, as all things in a world of -meetings and partings must. I saw Arnold first. He was coming down the -street, walking soberly with his head down and his hands behind him; a -habit dating, they said, from the day when he had put it forever out -of his power to hold his head up among honest men. So walking, he was -almost up to us before he saw us; and I could feel Champe’s eyes fairly -boring into the back of my neck for fear I should be giving him his cue -and he would miss it. - -I gave the cue at the instant when Arnold looked up and saw us. As -one man, we both halted, faced right, and made the formal salute. -Then, throwing every faculty of my exhausted soul into the effort -to appear the living mirror of shocked surprise, I exclaimed: “Why, -General!--Good heavens, sir! You--you did not sleep at home?” - -There was a look in his gloomy eyes that made me shiver when he -confronted me calmly and said, “No, Captain Page; I did not sleep at -home.” - -“Then--then we have been standing our long guard over an empty house?” -I faltered; and the faltering was no more than half insincere, if it -were that. - -“Why should you stand guard at all, Captain Page?” he asked, never -relaxing the accusing eye-grip. - -“Surely you must have heard?” I protested. “You might well say that no -man holding his commission from you could do less than to try to guard -your person at such a time as this, General Arnold!” - -“Ah? And what have _you_ heard?” - -“Only what all the town is whispering: that two of Washington’s -emissaries, masking as deserters from the rebel army, are here for the -purpose of abducting you, sir; that these men--the better to cover -their designs--are enlisted in the Loyal Americans; and that these two, -a rank and a warrant officer, are missing.” - -“You heard all this?” he queried slowly. “And in the face of it you -come here to stand a night guard over my house?” - -“Surely, sir; and why not? It seemed a moment when loyalty might do -well to assert itself; the more since some suspicious occurrences--” - -“You are either a very brave and true man, or a very rash one, Captain -Page,” he said, breaking in upon me. “Did they not whisper you the -names of these two suspected men?” - -“No.” - -He frowned and looked away. - -“I could almost find it in my heart to wish they had,” he said, half to -himself, I thought. And then, more pointedly to me: “There is an order -out for the arrest of these men--an order issued last night by Sir -Henry Clinton, himself. It specifies the names:--Captain Richard Page -and Sergeant John Champe.” - -Now that the worst had come, the burden tumbled suddenly from my -shoulders and I became a man again. - -“That is indeed most unfortunate, General Arnold,” I said calmly; “not -for us, but for you.” - -“Ah? Possibly you will tell me why.” - -“Because justice, in pursuing us, may perchance be even a little -blinder than she is usually portrayed; and while we are getting our -trial and acquittance, the real criminals will go free. But that is -neither here nor there. Will you take our swords, General? or shall we -go and surrender them to the commandant at Fort George?” - -He nailed me up again with the sifting, probing eyes, and I could -almost fancy I saw a lurking smile in their farthest underdepths. - -“Are you really the true man that Mistress--ah--the person who vouches -for you--insists that you are? Or are you the shiftiest, hardiest -daredevil villain that ever lived, Captain Page? I confess I don’t -know.” - -“The court-martial may or may not answer that question for you, General -Arnold,” I said coldly. “For myself it matters little, so long as I -have the consciousness of duty well done, or well attempted; and I -think Sergeant Champe would say the same. Have we your permission to go -and surrender ourselves?” - -He stopped and paced a step or two, his frown deepening. When he spoke, -he took a new tack and a little ray of hope began to glimmer in the -murk of doom. - -“I have been officiously ignored in this matter, as in many others,” he -complained, in the manner of one who lets his inner thought slip into -speech. “The hearsay word of some spy, whom I have never been permitted -to see and question, is taken, and an order goes out to apprehend two -of my own men--men who are responsible to me for their actions, and to -no one else. Tell me, Captain Page, have you ever given Lieutenant -Castner special reason to dislike you?” - -“Never to my knowledge,” said I, wondering what was coming. - -“He is at the bottom of all this,” snapped Arnold harshly. “It was he -who saw the spy; it was he who carried the story to Sir Henry Clinton -and procured the order for your arrest. By heaven, sir! for this one -time I shall show them that I am at least the colonel in command of -my own regiment! Get you into the house--you and the sergeant--and we -shall see if their order for your arrest runs this far.” - -Surely, this was mirth for the gods; that the man who should have been -most eager to see us hanged was interposing his own authority against -Sir Henry Clinton’s to balk the hangman! It was like robbing a blind -man to take such a gross advantage of his vanity and pride, but there -was no alternative. Now that he had told us what we had to fear, there -was no other hand or house in all New York that could shield us. - -So we followed him through the door of the house which we had lately -broken into, and were told curtly to rest ourselves as we could in the -orderly-room; and that Arnold’s man would later bring us our breakfast. -At the last, when he was leaving us, I ventured to cast a small anchor -to windward. - -“One word, General Arnold, before you go. I spoke, a few moments since, -of certain suspicious occurrences of the night. If, as I have good -cause to fear, you shall find yourself overruled in this matter--if you -are compelled to turn us over to our accusers--I beg you will not do -it until you have heard what we have to tell you of last night’s doings -in the town.” - -“You shall have your hearing, never fear,” he asserted, frowning again -at the hint that he would be forced to yield us up, whether he wanted -to or not; and so he left us. - -“Pull yourself together once more, Sergeant,” I commanded, shaking -Champe awake when we were alone together. “We are no more than fairly -across the threshold of the peril. We shall doubtless be questioned -separately, and God help us if we are not letter-perfect able to tell -the same tale! Listen, now, and get your lesson by heart.” - -At this I gave him the meat and marrow of the story I meant to tell -Arnold on my cross-examination, drilling him patiently until every -nerve of him save the receptive was fast asleep. Yet I think he had it -all line by line before Arnold’s serving man came with the breakfast, -though he afterward went to sleep in his chair with the gulping of his -third dish of tea; a good example which I presently followed with the -chimney-corner settle for a bed. - -Something to my surprise, for I had fancied our business would scarcely -wait so long, the day was half spent when an orderly--a new little man -I had never seen before--came to rout me out and tell me that General -Arnold commanded my presence in the room overhead. I could have wished -for a little space in which to set a sleep-befuddled brain in order, -but it was not given me. So far from it, I was still yawning foolishly -behind my hand when I stumbled into Arnold’s presence, trying to look -soldierly, and making a rather shameful failure of it, I fear. - -But the man behind the little writing-table gave no heed to my -gapings. “Sit down, Captain Page,” he said briskly. “While you have -been sleeping, we have come to some better understanding of this -business--better for you and Champe, at all events. The order for your -arrest has been suspended--or at least, made discretionary with me.” - -I saw how his vanity and self-esteem had been propitiated, and was -glad, since therein lay our only hope. - -“We owe you much more than we have yet been able to pay, General--the -sergeant and I,” I said, which was the truth masquerading as a lie. “So -long as you are our judge-advocate, we don’t fear the drumhead court. -But now, if it is permitted, I should like to inquire how suspicion -fell specially on us.” - -When he answered, his frown was not for me. - -“There is a mystery about it, Captain. Castner claimed to have had -speech with a spy, who incriminated you and Champe on a direct charge; -and upon that information the order for your arrest was issued--without -my knowledge or approval, as I have said. Now, when I go to demand an -explanation, the spy has disappeared and Castner is missing. No one -else has seen the spy, and even his name is carefully suppressed.” - -I put on an air of surprise which I was far enough from feeling. Mr. -James Askew’s tenderness about that whispered story of his part in the -André betrayal accounted for everything but Castner’s disappearance. - -“You are looking for some motive under all this, General?” I inquired. - -“To be sure; and it is not far to seek. Lieutenant Castner is my -personal enemy, and he has been at no pains to conceal that fact, -Captain Page.” - -“You astonish me!” I exclaimed; and this, at least, was a pure -falsehood. - -“It is true,” he asserted bitterly. “He has not scrupled to say openly -that Sir Henry would do the king’s cause a worthy service if he would -send me to Mr. Washington in chains!” - -“Then,” said I, smoothly, “you would rather expect to find him -conniving at the crime I was charged with, than to find him striving to -prevent it.” - -“It is a myth--this kidnapping tale,” said the traitor hotly. “He -merely wished to deprive me of your services, Captain--at the expense -of your life, if need be!” - -Was ever a man so misled? Here was the arch-plotter of his century, -the man who had been able for months to hold a trusted station in -the patriot army, and at the same time to carry on a constant and -treasonable correspondence with his country’s enemies, unable to keep -from falling into the simplest of plots laid for him! It was weighing -pretty heavily upon Castner, who was merely an honest soldier trying -to do his duty as he saw it, but I could hardly afford to defend the -lieutenant. - -“Whatever the lieutenant’s object may have been, I think that I have -had a narrow escape,” I said, which was truth of the truth. “But you -spoke of mysteries: I think you will say there are more and greater -ones when you hear what I have to tell you, General Arnold. You missed -me yesterday afternoon?” - -“I did. And that gave more color to Castner’s charges. Also, it was -reported that Sergeant Champe had not rejoined his ship, and that you -had been seen together, earlier in the day. Also, again, that neither -of you could be found, though the order for your arrest went straight -to the outposts as soon as it was issued. I take it you are prepared to -explain all these seemingly suspicious coincidences, Captain?” He said -it almost anxiously, though the anxiety was more for the humbling of -Castner than for any other reason, I thought. - -“I am, fully,” I replied. “To begin at the beginning, Sergeant Champe -did not return to his ship yesterday morning because he failed to find -a boat going down to the fleet in the lower bay. Quite naturally, -he drifted into a tap-room, the bar of a sailor’s groggery at the -waterside. While he was there, and still sober enough to have his wits -about him, a man in citizen’s clothes stood at the bar trying to make a -bargain with the tavern-keeper for a boat. The sergeant heard all that -was said. A boat was required which would carry three men, two of them -would row, and it must be exceedingly light and speedy.” - -“Ha!” said my listener; “three men, and only two to row. The third man -might be a prisoner, eh, Captain Page?” - -“Possibly,” I answered, smiling inwardly at the readiness with which he -followed me. Then I went on, keeping as scrupulously within the bounds -of fact as if I expected to be called to account for every word--not -because I was afraid to lie, but because nothing but the point of view -needed to be concealed. - -“When the man left the tavern, the sergeant, as you may say, trod -in his very footsteps. The long jaunt ended at the house of a Dutch -boat-builder on the eastern shore. The man in citizen’s clothes went -in, and, a little later, the sergeant thought he heard sounds of a -struggle. Be that as it may, the man came presently out of the house -and made his way back to the neighborhood of Fort George, where he -disappeared. Whereupon the sergeant dutifully hunted me out and told me -his story.” - -“This was in the morning, you say?” queried Arnold, most deeply -interested, as I could see. - -“In the forenoon,” I went on, and now I saw that I must begin to -invent. “Later on, after Mistress Arnold’s visit to you here, I -learned through Champe that the man who had worn citizen’s clothes in -the forenoon had turned up at the tavern in the uniform of a British -private soldier, and that he had been seen in company with an officer -wearing the uniform of the Loyal Americans. This, in itself, seemed -a little suspicious, and as the plot you speak of was, by that time, -becoming a tavern rumor--” - -“I see,” said Arnold, anticipating me. “You sallied out to find this -officer and his boat-requiring companion?” - -I bowed. - -“We had little difficulty in placing them, the officer and his -masquerading comrade, in the lane beyond the tavern; and when they went -eastward, you may imagine that we, as you might say, tracked them step -for step. They took a most roundabout way, but finally reached and -entered the boat-builder’s house.” - -“Ah; but you did not drop it there, Captain Page. You are far too -enterprising, I am sure.” By this time the traitor was up and walking -the floor, his eyes flashing, and his entire manner reminding me of -nothing so much as of a hound roving to find a scent. - -“No; we did not drop it. But what followed was still more mysterious. -You must know that by this time it was black dark. The two men locked -themselves in the house, struck a light, made a fire on the hearth, -and, by the sounds, filled a kettle and put it on to boil.” - -“You could see them--see their faces?” was the eager question. - -“I saw the face of the soldier, but not that of the officer,” I -replied, skipping around the eager query. “The man who had been -boat-seeking in the forenoon was tall and dark; something on Sergeant -Champe’s order. The other was also tall, with square shoulders, and he -was fair.” - -Arnold stopped abruptly, and wheeled to face me. Some sudden emotion -had transformed him. His eyes were blazing, and the thin nostrils were -quivering with rage or excitement, I could not tell which. - -“I can name one of those men--possibly both of them!” he cried. “But go -on, Captain Page; go on, sir!” - -“They made tea and ate,” I went on, wondering what new pool of -disturbment I had unconsciously troubled. “Afterward they sat before -the fire and smoked. Later, the soldier rose and went into another -room, coming back directly to say something which made the officer -spring up and go with him. They took the candle, and, as the fire -had died down, the house was dark; dark and silent. But after a time -there came muffled cries, and a crash like that of a falling trap-door -followed by a bedlam of thunderings as if a cataract of bricks were -pouring upon the floor. Then a strange little man, dripping and reeking -as if he had been soaked in a cask of liquor, dashed out of the house -and disappeared in the darkness.” - -I paused to give him his chance to lead me. It was a perilous road that -I was traversing, but I meant to draw him so far afield this time that -he would never get back to any suspicion of Champe or me. - -“Well?” he said sharply. “That was not the end of your adventure, -Captain Page?” - -“No,” I rejoined. “The little man was gone but a short time before he -came running back with a mob at his heels--sailors, armed with guns -and cutlasses. It did not take us long to understand that the little -man was the boat-builder, and that he had contrived to pen his two -housebreakers in the cellar.” - -Arnold nodded with apparent satisfaction. - -“A troublesome friend of yours and mine will probably trouble us no -more, Captain Page,” he commented. “The boat-builder’s house is a -hiding-place for smugglers--one of a number in the locality you have -described. And your armed sailors were a smuggler’s crew. There was a -fight?” - -“We could not be sure; there was a great deal of noise. But it ended in -a fiasco. There was a loophole of escape, and the two cellar prisoners -must have found it--we guessed it would be an underground passage -leading from the cellar to the boat-builder’s shop at the water’s edge. -At any rate, a dim light flickered for a minute or two in the shop, and -then a boat was run down the launching ways, with two men scrambling -into it at the final instant.” - -Again I paused, and once more he gave me my lead. - -“They escaped?--got off? But surely you did not give up, Captain?” - -“No. The sergeant and I put to sea the moment we could find a boat -and launch it--which seemed to be before the mob in the house had -discovered the escape. But when we manned the oars and began to look -about us, ours was the only boat in sight. We pulled down the shore, -keeping the sharpest lookout, but we saw nothing save the fog, which -presently made us lose ourselves, and a guard schooner whose commanding -ensign wished to arrest and detain us--chiefly, as I gathered, because -we were wearing the uniforms of the Loyal Americans.” - -For a long time Arnold walked back and forth in deepest meditation, and -I feared he was not going to give me the chance to put the capstone on -my carefully built pyramid of dissimulation. But he did. - -“And after your encounter with the young cub who did not like your -uniforms, Captain Page--what then?” - -“We could do nothing in the fog, and we landed, a little way from -the fort, and came here to mount guard. Now for the confirmation of -all this fairy tale, General: the groggery-keeper can testify to the -boat-seeker’s disguise; the smugglers, or their ally, the boat-builder, -can be interrogated; and doubtless the discontented navy ensign will -remember our visit, our explanations, and our request for the loan of a -compass--which he most churlishly refused.” - -He sat down at his writing-table and put his head in his hands. -After another interval of silence, he looked up to say: “You have -sufficiently accounted for yourself and Sergeant Champe, Captain; now -I shall try to account for the two men who escaped in the stolen boat. -Come with me.” - -I followed to the other end of the long room, mystified in my turn. But -my heart was pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer when he snatched the -bed-curtains aside and pointed to the unmistakable mud stains on the -coverlet--traces left by Champe: traces which, in the darkness, we had -not seen, and which we could not have removed if we had seen. - -“Those men whom you found and lost, Captain Page: they came here, -either before or after you mounted guard in the street. Their purpose -is plain. They entered the house through a window in the rear, leaving -these mud stains all the way along. They came here to abduct me, sir, -and but for the fortunate circumstance of my absence, they might have -succeeded.” - -My expression of horrified surprise did not need to be feigned. - -“What a frightfully narrow escape!” I exclaimed, but I was thinking of -ours rather than his. - -“It was,” he said impressively. “But the plot was even subtler than you -think. Have you guessed why its execution was delayed until last night? -The time was chosen when the Loyal Americans--my own legion--was well -out of the way; only two of my own men were known to be ashore, and -these two--yourself and Sergeant Champe--were to be frightened by this -carefully spread rumor and threat of arrest so that you would both run -away, disappear, and so lend color to the later story that you two had -surprised me in my bed and carried me off.” - -“Good heavens!” I ejaculated. “But that inculpates--” - -“Quite true,” he agreed gravely. “It inculpates a British officer; -a man who has been forced upon me as an aide; a man who hates and -despises me as heartily as Mr. Washington does. Captain Page, if you -could have seen the face of the officer, who sat before the fire last -night in the boat-builder’s house, you would have seen the face of -Lieutenant Charles Castner!” - - - - -XVIII - -IN WHICH THE WIND KEEPS REVELS - - -WHEN Arnold gave me his climax by pronouncing Castner’s name, I saw at -once to what conclusion he had been working all through my story of the -night’s happenings. He had imagined Castner and some accomplice of his -under my figuring of the two who were really Champe and myself. - -It must not be set down as hypocrisy if I say that I was sorry. While -it was doubtless true that Castner was doing his best to convict us of -treachery, I knew that he believed Askew’s story, and that in seeking -to have us apprehended he was merely doing what appeared to be--and -what certainly was--his plain soldier duty. For that reason it pained -me to see him involved, even in a traitor’s imaginings; but there was -no help for it. - -Having shown me his mind, Arnold next proceeded to lay his commands -upon me; and now I saw how his good angel, if he ever had one, had -deserted him entirely. - -“With Sergeant Champe for your subordinate, you will constitute -yourself my bodyguard from this time on until we join the army in the -fleet, Captain Page,” he said, when we had thrashed out the matter of -the attempt upon his liberty to the final straw. “The convoy frigate -will return in two or three days at the farthest, but until I go -aboard, I wish to be assured of the presence of men upon whom I can -rely.” - -If I bowed very low at this, it was only because I feared he might see -and read the exultation in my face. Now, indeed, I thought, the Lord -had delivered this traitor helpless into my hands. Alone in the house -with him at night, and with the sunken boat raised and fitted for -service, it would go hard with us now if we could not wring complete -success out of all the foregone failures. - -Conning all this over afterward, it seemed passing strange that no hint -of a rising obstacle, bigger than any we had yet encountered, came to -me at that time. War and its cruel necessities are frightful levelers, -breaking down many ideals and brushing aside all the finer scruples. -Though I was far from recognizing it at the moment, the desire to carry -out the kidnapping purpose had come to be a purely brutal obsession, -recking nothing of the common humanities, and completely losing sight -of the fact that Arnold, by his misguided trusting of us, no less than -by his many kindnesses to me, was making an unconscious appeal too -strong to be disregarded. But at that moment there was nothing in me -to which the appeal could address itself; nor could there be until an -angel from heaven should bring me the fire to re-light the candle which -the war-winds had blown so gustily into extinguishment. - -When I was released and suffered to go below-stairs, I could scarcely -wait to get Champe thoroughly awake before beginning to coach him -in the new part he must play. But when he sensed the astounding turn -things had taken, his loud guffaws made me clap a hand over his mouth. - -“Silence, you oaf!” I commanded. “One unguarded word--one lifting of an -eyelid too few or too many--and the balance tips the other way. I tell -you, John Champe, I have been through the valley of the hot plow-shares -itself since I left you snoring here!” And then I told him of Arnold’s -discoveries, and how, in our breaking and entering, we had left a trail -a blind man could follow when we thought we were leaving none at all. - -He was sober enough when I finished, and, soldier-like, asked for his -orders. I told him he might sleep again till I called him; that he must -be fresh for the night. - -“Then you are still for trying it on, Captain Dick?--in spite of -everything?” - -“It would be flying in the face of Providence not to try, and keep on -trying until we succeed. We are many miles nearer the goal by what I -have just told you, Sergeant.” - -But now he was shaking his head dubiously. - -“We shall never do it,” he objected; “never, in this world, Captain -Dick. I saw that written out on the walls of his room last night. -Something will stop us; I feel it in my bones.” - -“But you won’t leave the plow in the furrow?” I protested. “We are -equals in this, Champe: I can not command you against your convictions, -or even against your wish.” - -“You can command me, and you shall,” he rejoined. “You will tell me -what to do, and I’ll do it. But we shall fail.” - -That set me to thinking how far I was justified in involving another -man in a desperate affair for which he had apparently lost his stomach; -an affair in which my responsibility as his superior officer would be -doubled. I did not wish to shirk, God knows, or even to divide the -responsibility with my companion. But his new attitude of dejection -made me tenderer of his safety than I had been before. In the last -resort, I thought it might be possible to let one bankrupt pay the -total cost of failure. - -“I’ll take you up on that, Sergeant Champe,” I said calmly. “From this -time forth you will consider yourself a mere machine. Will you obey me -to the letter?” - -“As I would Light Horse Harry Lee, himself, Captain Dick,” was his -answer. - -“Then listen: we will discuss ways and means, and work together, as -heretofore, straight through to our end. But if anything happens--if, -say, we should be taken in the act--you must not scruple to turn -against me; to save yourself if you have to catch and hold me while -they tie my hands. Will you promise to do this?” - -“No,” he said bluntly. “I could never do that, Captain Dick. There is -only one thing that would ever make me an enemy of yours--and then -there would be no feigning about it: if you should turn softhearted of -a sudden, and spare Sir Judas--” - -“Why do you say that?” I demanded. “Have I shown a soft heart, thus -far?” - -“No; but--but--your pardon, Captain Dick, but there is a woman in this -tangle of ours; two of them; and one of them would willingly die in -this man’s place, and the other--” - -“Never say it, John Champe!” I interposed. “When it comes to that, I -shall want you for my enemy; and you must not spare me the shrewdest -blow you can strike. But in the other event, you must save yourself if -you can, remembering this one thing--that I shall hang a great deal the -easier and more comfortably if I hang alone.” - -“I’m too sleepy still to argue that point out with you,” he protested; -and I think he was nodding again, to make up the arrears of the night, -before I had ascended the stair to take my place at Arnold’s door. - -The traitor never left his house all that afternoon, and when I was not -dozing in my chair in the corridor, I could hear his pen scratching -steadily, hour upon hour. For a brevet-commander who was, in truth, -no more than the colonel of a regiment, Arnold did more writing than -any lawyer’s clerk, and sometimes I have wondered if his treasonable -correspondence did not have its first beginnings in his insatiable -thirst for letter-writing. But no: it was his vanity again, which ever -loves to dribble from a pen’s point, that made him such a slave of the -ink-pot. - -The house darkened early in the afternoon, and when I went to the -corridor window to look at the sky, there were promises of a storm. -Here was Champe’s prophecy of further obstacles on its way to -fulfillment hours ahead of any possible move we could make. Inclement -weather, rain, snow or cold, we might brave, but not a wind which would -raise a sea. - -I looked at the heavens long and earnestly. There was a gray sky, but -the clouds were lower than I liked to see them. Rain or snow it would -be, I decided, with a chance of wind from the southeast. That was -nothing, so long as it did not blow too hard. - -It was near about dusk, and the serving man had brought me my supper on -a tray, when Arnold opened the door for the first time and found me at -my post. - -“Lord, Captain Page!” he said. “Have you been here all the afternoon? -You took me too literally. Go down to the dining-room and have yourself -served in some comfort. Afterward, you may come and get a letter for -Mistress Arnold, leaving Sergeant Champe on duty in the lower hall. We -are in no such peril as to need a death watch.” - -That matter of carrying another letter to Margaret Shippen set me -to blowing hot and cold in the same instant; elate with the thought -that I might see Beatrix again, and apprehensive from the fear that -if I should see her, I must be put to it harder than ever to defend -my secret. Also, there was another thing to add a chill, if not of -apprehension, at least of decent reluctance. How could I brazenly face -the dear lady, who was so good to Beatrix and me, with a lie in my eyes -and false words on my lips, carrying her husband’s love-billets on the -very eve of a deed which would crush her into the dust of affliction? - -I was half minded to ask Arnold to make Champe his messenger, pressing -the resolve so far as to inquire of the sergeant if he could find the -way in the dark to a certain house across the open square from Mr. -Justice Smith’s. When he was doubtful about it, I braced myself and -said I would go; which, when I had posted Champe in the lower hall, and -had got the letter from Arnold, I did. - -The promise of a bad night weather-wise was beginning to come to pass -when I set out--a bit warily for the sake of Lieutenant Castner’s -shrewd and watchful enmity--to thread the poorly lighted streets. A -cold rain was falling and the wind off the bay was sharp-edged, with a -threat of more to follow. - -Though it was not the shortest way to my destination, I went, for a -purpose of my own, up Broad Way, past the wretched, makeshift shelters -that were taking the place of many fair homes destroyed in the great -fire of ’76, past Trinity Church standing as a ghostly ruin on the -left, its walls only partly down and a corner of its bell tower still -rearing itself high above the fire-killed trees in the churchyard. -Beyond the church I made a détour to the westward to get a glimpse of -the river. It was not very rough as yet, but a heavy swell was running -up with the tide to tell of rough weather to the southward. I recalled -the light craft which must be our dependence. It would do very well in -a seaway, always provided there was not enough wind to make the waves -break over its low gunwale. There were as yet no white-caps to show -their teeth on the black and heaving expanse, so I turned back to my -errand with rising hope. - -As on the former occasion, it was the old negro servant who admitted -me to the Vandeventer house and took Arnold’s letter above-stairs; -and almost before I had had time to feel the cheer of the fire in the -luxurious little reception-room whither I went to await whatever answer -there might be, the door opened to show me, not Mistress Margaret, nor -yet Beatrix, but Mistress Julianna Pettus, Jack’s aunt, and Beatrix’s -cousin, once removed. - -Now, truly, Beatrix had told me very plainly that she was expecting -“Cousin Ju”; was delaying her departure for Virginia only until that -good lady should come over from Philadelphia to accompany her. But -this fact, like some others, had gone completely out of my mind, else -I think I should never have had the courage to come within speaking -distance of the Vandeventer house that night. For Cousin Julianna was -fair, fat and forty, with a mind of her own and a tongue sharper than -any whip-lash; and being my own second cousin on my mother’s side, she -had a sense of proprietorship in me which she had exercised impartially -since she stood godmother for me in the old church in Williamsburg. - -“Well, Dick Page!” she cried. “So you have come to show me your new -clothes, have you? Was there no other ditch that you could wallow in, -but you must be the first to disgrace a long line of honorable Virginia -gentlemen? Merciful suz! Shame, hot shame on you, boy--to make us all -hide our heads this way! Beatrix Leigh will never marry you now; her -father would disinherit her flat, and so, too, would I. And you’ve -fairly thrown her into Howard Seytoun’s arms, brute beast as he is! -No, don’t try to explain it; there is no explanation--there can’t be!” - -What could I do, other than bow my head to the righteous storm and -let it exhaust itself, if it would? It raged--oh, how scathingly it -raged!--for a full quarter of an hour, I believe, during which time I -could scarcely get a word in edgewise; but when the hurricane had blown -itself out, my cousin sat down and condescended to ask me news of Jack, -and of the doings in the camps on the Hudson, remembering herself now -and then to flay me afresh for the coat I was wearing. - -I told her all she asked to know, and was as meek as mush, hoping she -would come finally to telling me something of her plans and Beatrix’s, -as she did. And it was very comical, too, if I had been in any laughing -mood, for, when she had told me that the rescued Leigh tobacco had -been put aboard of a certain coasting schooner named the _Nancy Jane_, -Captain Elijah Sprigg, and that her passage to the James River, and -Beatrix’s, had been taken on board the same vessel, she remembered -suddenly that she was telling all this to a king’s officer, and her -threatenings of me, and her alarm for the safety of the tobacco, were -equally matched. - -“You’ll never go and tell on us, Dick Page!” she half pleaded, half -commanded. “You wouldn’t be such an abandoned and despicable villain as -that!” - -“Why,” said I, teasing her a little, “haven’t you just been telling me -that nothing was too hang-dog and mean for me to do, since I am wearing -the king’s coat? Isn’t it my duty--my new duty--to go straight down -to Sir Henry Clinton’s quarters with the news that you mean to run the -blockade with a contraband cargo of tobacco?” - -“Oh, you’d never, _never_ do that, Dickie Page!” she protested, -wringing her hands in distress. “Mr. Vandeventer says we are ‘winked -at’; that because Beatrix is a brave girl, and the friend of Margaret -Shippen, she will be allowed to take her tobacco and go home. But I -don’t trust them--any of them. They’ll stop us; send us to prison! -Dick, you’ll never be so cruel?” - -“I’ll make a bargain with you, Cousin Ju,” I laughed. “Get me speech -with Beatrix, and I’ll promise you never to lisp a syllable to a living -soul about the tobacco.” - -“Oh, but Dick! she protests she will never look on your face again--and -serve you right, too! She’ll never come down to you for my urging.” - -“Yes, she will. Tell her it’s the price of her cargo of tobacco.” - -“You promise?” - -“Most faithfully, I assure you.” - -Cousin Julianna went away in haste, and I was still laughing over her -absurd fears when the door opened to admit Beatrix. And I do think -she was more beautiful and winsome and alluring than I had ever seen -her, as she stood in the doorway, trying to make me believe she was -angry--as she was not. - -“So you threaten me, do you, Mr. Page? If I don’t dance when you pipe, -you will turn informer. Did Cousin Ju tell me straight?” - -“If Cousin Ju told you that I was ready to put my soul in pawn for -another sight of you, she had the straight of it. I owe you an apology -for--” - -“You owe me ten thousand of them--and more. You ran from me yesterday -afternoon when I was waiting in the coach for Margaret as if I had had -the plague!” - -“I was on duty and was obliged to go. It was imperative. I might say -that the lives of two men hung in the balance of my haste at that -particular moment.” - -She was leaning against the door-post and regarding me steadily. - -“Dick,” she said; “what has come over you since the days when we were -children together? Then you were as truthful and transparent as they -say Mr. Washington used to be when he was a little lad and would rather -be punished than lie; but now.... Listen, sir. Our carriage did not -move for five full minutes, and I saw you: you talked easily with a -little gentleman in gray, and afterward took his arm and walked away -with him to the tavern--and the tap-room, I suppose--without so much as -another look in our direction. And now you would tell me--” - -“I have told you the exact truth, as far as it went, Beatrix,” I -interrupted. “The man in gray held two men’s lives in the hollow of his -palm. If I had not caught him on the instant--well, no matter; that was -Sir Henry Clinton’s door he was meaning to enter.” - -“More mysteries,” she complained, though not so impatiently now, I -fancied. “What would have happened if he had gone to see Sir Henry?” - -“An almost certain chance that the Gallows Hill squad last night would -have been increased by two more unfortunates.” - -“How terrible!” she murmured. “Is it possible that you live from day to -day in the midst of such frightful perils, Dick? These two endangered -men--are they friends of yours?” - -I grinned. “One of them I may call my friend: the other--well, there -are those who will tell you that the other has always been Dick Page’s -own dearest enemy.” - -Her keen wit pounced instantly upon the truth before I could bite my -tongue for its foolish rashness. - -“Yourself? Oh, Dick! what is this wretched web you have become -entangled in? Tell me--tell me!” - -“I can not,” I said, realizing too late that I had brought all this -upon myself. - -“You mean you will not: then you do not love me, Dick Page!” - -“Perhaps it is because I love you too well, sweetheart. Can’t you -believe that?” - -“No, I can not. Where there is love, there is confidence and trust. You -don’t trust me!” - -“I do trust you. But this you are asking me to tell you is not my -own secret and, besides, it would only add to your burdens without -lightening mine; indeed, it would make mine immeasurably heavier--too -heavy to be borne, I fear.” - -She sat down and began to look into the heart of the crackling fire on -the hearth, as she had done that other night. - -“How little you know of women, Dick,” she said musingly. “You ask my -love, and yet you deny that love its first privilege--the right to -share your dangers and perplexities. More, you would even lie to it--by -implication. But you have not succeeded wholly in doing that. Some -things I have found out for myself, and one of them is--that you are -not the traitor you seem to be, Richard.” - -“Hush--for heaven’s sake!” I interposed. “One whisper of that overheard -in this house where Margaret Shippen is a guest--” - -“Poor, dear Margaret!” she said, and now she was all sympathy and pity. -“I doubt if even she would betray you, Dick; and all the others in this -house are secretly our friends. But what could have tempted you, a Page -and an officer, to become a--a spy?” - -“That is what I can not--dare not--tell you, Beatrix,” I protested. -“And that is not for my sake, but for your own. Won’t you believe me, -heart of mine?” - -“I’ll never believe you love me as you say you do until you are willing -to let me share your hazard, whatever it is,” she retorted. - -“You would not be sharing the hazard; you would merely be miserable, -Beatrix dear.” - -“Then I claim the privilege of being miserable for your sake, Dick: -please!” and her arms went out to me in a pleading gesture that no -lover could withstand--for long. - -It was Cousin Julianna who saved me. There was a light tap at the door, -and she entered in a fluster of alarm. - -“A lot of redcoat soldiers have just come into the yard and are -surrounding the house!” she announced. “Is this some of your doing, -Dickie Page?” - -I told her it was not, but I did not add that it would probably prove -my eternal undoing. I could think of but one explanation: by some means -Castner had prevailed upon Sir Henry Clinton to reestablish the order -for my arrest, and the lieutenant had traced me hither. But I had no -intention of letting the two women know what was awaiting me. - -“I’ll go out and see what is preparing to happen,” I offered lightly. -“So much my red coat may do for you, Cousin Ju.” - -But now Beatrix sprang up and threw her arms around my neck and clung -to me, protesting that I should not go--that I must not go; and I do -think our good cousin was more deeply scandalized than I ever saw her. -The little hubbub gave me a chance to whisper in my loved one’s ear: -“You must let me go, Beatrix; it may be nothing. And if they have come -for me, I could not escape. Be brave, dear, for my sake--and for the -honor of the Leighs!” - -She loosed me, and though Mistress Pettus was looking on, I took the -sweet face between my hands and kissed the trembling lips. Then I went -out quickly to live or die, as it might befall, caring little, just at -that moment, for the worst that any one could do to me. - -It was a false alarm, as I was able to assure the two women after I -had spoken to the sergeant in charge of the detail. Properly counted, -Cousin Julianna’s “lot of redcoat soldiers” dwindled to a half-dozen -men, sent out by Arnold to guard the house where his wife lay--this in -view of the disturbing rumors which might reach her ears. It was to -advise her of this that he had sent the letter by my hands, as Margaret -Shippen, herself, came down to tell us. - -I take no shame for saying that I made haste to leave when Mistress -Arnold came upon the scene; and as it was, her sweet patient face, as -reproachful to me as an accusing angel’s, went all the way with me in -the storm-breasting return to the lower part of the town, with the wind -howling overhead and a sleety rain driving in level stinging volleys. - -Champe was alone in the lower hall when I gave the password to the -sentry at the door and entered. - -“It is a bad night?” he said, most grimly. - -“It is,” I admitted, struggling out of my dripping watchcoat. - -“There will be shipping lost, think you?” he queried meaningly. - -“No small craft will venture out,” I returned, matching his hyperbole. -“Anything sitting less deeply than a fifty-four would founder in the -launching.” - -“I thought so,” he said gloomily; and after that we sat in silence -before the fire, listening to the wind yelling in the huge chimney. - -It was still early in the evening when Arnold came down to us, treading -the stair so lightly that his appearance was all but a surprise. His -brow was clouded, but there was a dull glow in the depths of his eyes -to tell of the passions slumbering in his heart. - -“A word with you privately, Captain Page,” he said, drawing me aside. -“Make your dispositions for the night so that the house will seem -unguarded. If our intruders return, I would wish them to find the way -to my bedside unhindered--but with two good men close behind them and -ready to act at the critical moment. You understand me?” - -I bowed. “You think there will be another attempt made--to-night? And -if so, you desire to have the kidnappers taken in the very act?” - -“There will be another attempt, Captain; of that I am sure,” he -answered. “I told you this morning that Lieutenant Castner was -missing--absent without leave. He is still unheard of. When he returns, -I wish to see him a prisoner in your hands, Mr. Page.” - -With that, he left us and went up-stairs; and when I looked at Champe, -the sergeant was scowling fiercely at our handful of fire. - -“You heard him?” I asked, when Arnold’s door had closed; and Champe -nodded. - -“We are more likely to be Castner’s prisoners, than he ours, don’t you -think, Captain Dick?” he said. - -“Much more likely,” I admitted; adding: “I don’t like this mysterious -disappearance of Mr. Charles Castner just at this time.” - -“What does it argue, think you?” - -“Trouble for us. He was not able to get James Askew’s story fully -believed, though he believes it himself. If you were Castner, what -would you do under the circumstances, Sergeant Champe?” - -“Get the proof, if it were to be had,” said Champe. - -“Exactly. And that is probably what Castner is trying to do. It has -become a point of honor with him. If he can find any one who will vouch -for the spy’s story, or for some part of it, or for the spy, himself--” - -“I see,” said the sergeant, rising and reaching for his sword-belt. -“Which means that the present moment is ours--and it is all we are sure -of. With your good leave, Captain Dick, I’ll go down and have a look at -the river.” - -He was back in a short while, shaking his head and slinging the water -from his hat. - -“No boat as small as ours would live a minute in it,” he said briefly; -and so, with hope lying dead again, we sat down to wait for morning; -for the breaking of another day and the probable return of Lieutenant -Castner. - - - - -XIX - -MINE HONOR’S HONOR - - -THE rain had abated by morning, but the wind was still blowing rather -more than half a gale out of the southeast when the watery sun rose -over the housetops. - -With the reporting of the first orderly for the day, a young man -from Clinton’s staff-family whom I had not seen before, I went out, -ostensibly for a breath of fresh air, but really for news--news of -Castner. The tap-room of the tavern offered the most promising source, -and thither I went to hobnob with the barman. - -There was no news--which was good news. Castner had not been in his -room or at the inn since his morning meal there of the day before the -yesterday; though the barman had seen him later that same day, crossing -the green in company with a smallish man in citizen’s clothes. Pressed -more closely, my tap-turner was sure he had seen the smallish man in -gray at some other time; and after more brain cudgellings: “Sure, then! -’twould be the same man you’d be taking up to your room, either befoor -or afther--I’d not be remimbering which.” - -This was explicit, as far as it went, though it was anything but -reassuring. I had known Castner but a little while, yet one of his -characteristics, patient pertinacity, was written out large in his -sturdy jaw and steadfast gray eyes for the merest passer-by to read. -I thought he would hang on to whatever clue he had found, and pull -and tug at it until he had drawn it out to some workable length. And, -according to the barman’s story, the clue--James Askew by name--was -fairly in his hands. - -One other bit of news the barman gave me that was also disconcerting. -The night gale, which had blown too hard for our enterprise, Champe’s -and mine, had blown the war-ships back to New York from whatever port -they had been calling at; and now, my news-vendor told me, the sailing -of the fleet waited only on a favorable shift of the wind. - -“Two chances against us--Castner and the fleet-sailing,” I said to -myself, faring back to my prison cell in Arnold’s house, and breakfast, -“both of them more than likely to ripen before we see another night. -Truly, the devil fights for his own!” - -It was Arnold himself who gave me leave to go out again after the -morning meal had been despatched, coming down to us in one of his -kindly moods, and saying that we need not confine ourselves so closely -to the house during the day. I hated him most cordially when he gave -himself the air of a simple-hearted, kindly gentleman, as he very well -could. It seemed unfair that he should so often remind me of the thorn -of reluctance that was pricking me; a hurt that went deeper with every -gentlemanly thing that he did, and every fresh trust he reposed in me. - -For, charge it to what account of self-love, or pride, or vanity, -I would in the man, he had assuredly been indulgent to us and had -unquestionably saved our two lives; and while he was a traitor and -false to his oath and his soldier honor, a vague and disquieting wonder -was beginning to stir in me, asking if I supposed that, with all his -oath-breakings, he would consent to do what I was doing. - -So, when he told me I was free to go abroad in the town, I replied, -rather churlishly, as I remember, that I knew my duty and would try to -do it; after which I spent the better part of the day before the fire -in the orderly-room, going to the windows now and again to see if there -were any signs of Castner coming to hang me, and behaving so sourly to -Champe that the sergeant finally took the privilege Arnold had given -us, and went out. - -He had been gone something over an hour when he returned with a piece -of news. Hanging about the waterside, and keeping an eye out for -anything that might bring grist to our mill, Champe had been accosted -by a man, a stranger and a sailor, as the sergeant described him, and -a New Englander by his speech. This man had asked for me by name, and -had pitched upon the first soldier he saw wearing the Loyal Americans’ -uniform for information of me. He claimed to have urgent business, -going so far as to say to Champe that I would rue it smartly if I -denied him an interview. - -“Where did you leave him?” I asked, when the sergeant had finished his -tale. - -“In the tap-room of the tavern. And I made sure he had no following.” - -“Damn his following!” I growled, well-nigh desperate from the day-long -grinding of the mill of reflection; “I’ll fight him, or any dozen of -him, at the dropping of a handkerchief, if that is what he wants!” And -with that snappish word of thanks for Champe’s loyal forethought, I -strode off to the tavern. - -For once in a way, Champe’s description personal had been accurate -enough. The man who was awaiting me was a sailor, and he hailed from -Massachusetts. What the sergeant had omitted to mention was that he was -as curst and crabbed by nature as I was at that moment by my mood. - -For the first few minutes, as I recall it, we merely bickered at each -other, snarling like a fair of unfriendly dogs. Then some shrewd, dry, -verbal slap of his jarred a laugh loose in me; after which we got on -better. - -“I want no truck with ye, nor with any of your kind, Captain,” he -warned me, when the ice was broken, “but I was told to come and find -ye, and so I have. You’re from Virginia, and they tell me that ye have -no schoolmasters in those parts: would it be too much to wonder if ye -could read a smitch o’ writing?” - -“Give me the letter,” I said, ignoring the gibe and knowing now that he -was somebody’s messenger. - -The missive was from Beatrix, and it voiced--somewhat formally, lest -the letter should fall into the wrong hands--a plaintive little call -for help. It ran: - - “Dear Captain Page: We are in deep trouble, and since none of our - friends can help us, we turn to our enemies. The bearer of this is - the captain of the ship we had chartered to take us home. He tells - us now that he is required to hold his vessel at the disposal of - Major Simcoe, of the Queen’s Rangers, for transport service in the - expedition soon to sail, and, for reasons sufficiently known to you, - we are in despair. What do you suggest?” - -I turned to the crabbed mariner. - -“You are Captain Sprigg, of the _Nancy Jane_?” I asked. - -“I’m nobody, of nothing,” he answered. Then he began spitefully to -accuse Beatrix of bad faith. “It’s an ill thing to trust a woman: she -promised me there should be no naming of names, and--” - -I crossed over to where he stood and chucked him under the chin to make -him hold up his head and pay attention. - -“One word derogatory to the good name, the birth, breeding, beauty or -discretion of that lady, Captain Sprigg, and I shave off your ears, -and split your nose, and otherwise improve your personal appearance -till your own cabin-boy won’t know you. The lady wrote no names in her -letter--having given you her word that she wouldn’t.” - -It seems that I had somewhat mistaken my man. While I was bullying and -staring him down, something cold began to press against my stomach, -namely, the muzzle of a huge horse pistol that the captain had fished -out of the folds of his loose coat. - -“Keep your chin-chuckin’s for the women-folks; they like it better,” he -said, quite without heat. And then: “I’ve done my errand; what are you -going to do?” - -“First tell me a few things,” I suggested, wisely ignoring the pistol -which he rather ostentatiously concealed under the coat flap. “You know -the purport of this letter?” - -“Bein’ as I told her how she might fix it, I guess maybe I do.” - -“You have the tobacco aboard?” - -“All aboard and safe under hatches.” - -“Where is your ship?” - -He waved a gnarled and tarry hand in the general direction of the East -River. - -“She’s hangin’ in the stream, ready to trip her anchor.” - -“But you’ve had orders to join the fleet in the lower bay?” - -“No; I’ve had orders to hold the schooner ready to take on twenty men -of Major Simcoe’s troop.” - -“You have no idea when they’ll come aboard?” - -“No more’n a cat with six blind kittens.” - -“You are a good sailor and a daring one. Captain Elijah Sprigg, and the -_Nancy Jane_ is not afraid of any weather that blows; so much I know of -you and your ship. Could you get to sea in spite of the gale, the guard -ships, and the fleet, if it were needful?” - -“Not in daylight, with women-folks aboard. And you wouldn’t want me to -try it, neither, Captain Page.” - -“No,” I agreed thoughtfully. “A chance shot might make me poorer than -any beggar that lives, Captain Sprigg. We must not take that risk.” - -“I thought ye wouldn’t want to. But if them soldiers ever get aboard -of me, Miss Leigh’s charter goes glimmering, and so does her daddy’s -tobacco, I guess.” - -Again I studied the awkward situation and a possible solution of it -began to take some shape in my mind. - -“You could get under way after dark and crawl out of the harbor, do you -think, Captain Sprigg?” I asked; “even if the weather does chance to be -pretty bad?” - -“The weather will be no worse to-night than it is now,” he asserted. -“But the frigate has come back, and the fleet will most likely get -sailing orders. That means that my redcoat passengers will be atop of -me sometime to-day.” - -At this I gave him some notion of what was in my mind. Champe had -told me that the greater part of Major Simcoe’s command, the mounted -Rangers, was still in the barracks, Sir Henry being reluctant to part -with his best cavalry force until the last moment. Twice within the -last two days the Rangers had been ordered out on the Tarrytown road -to meet and repel incursions from our camps on the Hudson. Possibly a -false alarm might be raised that would send them out again; and when I -got this far, Sprigg interrupted me. - -“You’re a man of ideas. Captain Page, I’ll say that for ye, and a -dum’ sight loyaler to your little girl than ye be to the coat you’re -wearin’. I’ve got a man in my crew who lives up Tarrytown way; a good -sharp fellow without any wool in his brains. He’s just back from home -this morning, and I shouldn’t be at all s’prised if he c’d tell some -sort of a yarn about Baylor’s Horse ’r Major Lee’s Legion a-swoopin’ -down this way. If we only had a dollar ’r so to kind o’ stimulate his -mem’ry--” - -I gave the captain two guineas. - -“Will that be enough?” - -“More’n enough; you make me recollect that old sayin’ about a fool and -his money, Captain Page.” - -“Never mind: this is no time for half-measures. Get your man into -action swiftly, and let him do what he has to without reference to me. -A word to some under officer at the fort will be sufficient; it will -reach Sir Henry Clinton as fast as an orderly can run with it.” - -“All right; so far, so good. What next?” - -I thought for a moment, and then asked how many men he mustered in his -crew, and if they were dependable. - -“We’re full-handed; ten--countin’ the mate and the cook--and I’ve tried -’em, every one.” - -“Good. They’ll fight, if they have to?” - -“For me and the _Nancy Jane_--yes; but in the war, we’re neutrals, -Captain Page,” he answered warily. - -“Like the devil you are!” I retorted, laughing at him. And then in -low tones: “You weren’t so precisely neutral that night when you hung -off and on in the river and dropped a dinghy to ferry two men and a -prisoner across to Jersey, Captain Sprigg.” - -If I had given him an inch of a dagger between the ribs as I bent over -to whisper this to him, he would not have jumped back any more quickly. - -“Sufferin’ Jehoshaphat!” he ejaculated thickly. “Who be you, anyway?” - -“Never mind me, Captain Elijah; we were talking about the schooner and -her crew. Good men and true, you say: and have you any arms aboard?” - -He blew out his lips like a dying man gasping for breath. “Would I be -tellin’ it to a redcoat officer if I had?” he demanded. - -“That is enough,” I laughed. “Now we can come to the arrangements for -the day and night. You are footloose and can go where you please in the -town. Watch the Queen’s Rangers’ barracks, and if the men are ordered -to the northern road, do you come back here and stand before this -tavern door. I’ll see you, and be with you promptly, to tell you what -next.” - -I said nothing of all this to Champe when I went back to Arnold’s -house and found the sergeant dozing before the fire in the -orderly-room--which was possibly a mistake. But Champe had not invited -my confidence in any matter remotely concerning Beatrix and her -venture, and I think I was a little afraid of his tongue. - -So, while he dozed in his chair, I paced a nervous sentry-beat between -the door and the window which commanded a view of the tavern, fearful -lest the plan of sending Major Simcoe afield would not work; fearful -also, lest Arnold might find some service for me which would interfere -with my keeping of the appointment with Captain Sprigg. - -As it happened, however, the strain on my patience was the only -one I was called on to bear. It was exactly four o’clock, as I -noticed--having pulled my watch out of its pocket so many times during -the long interval that it had grown bright from the handling--it was -four to the minute, I say, when I saw Sprigg standing in front of the -tavern door. There was nothing in the way to stop me from hurrying -across to him, but I had a sudden access of caution and did not hurry. - -“Well?” said I, when I had lounged most leisurely up to my sour-faced -tryst-keeper, and there was a whole world of impatience in the single -word. - -“You’re a master hand at plotting,” he commented. “Thing worked” (he -said “wukked”) “like a charm. Hull clamjamfrey of Simcoe’s men trotted -out on the north road ’bout half an hour ago. Now what?” - -“For you, Captain Sprigg, a small thing first, and a bigger one -afterward. Have a dinghy at the foot of Amsterdam lane by eight o’clock -to-night, and make sure of just one thing--that it waits until its -passengers come, if that shall not be until midnight. With the ladies -on board, the game is yours, to play out as you can.” - -“Then I won’t have to go back and see Miss Leigh?” - -“No; I’ll see her and bring her and my--the other lady, down to the -boat to-night.” - -“No need for you to go. I guess I c’n see to all that,” he said slyly. -Then he added: “Might get you into trouble--with that red coat o’ -yours, Captain Page.” - -I did not mean to delegate this last service I might ever render -Beatrix to him or to any one. But now, upon second thought, his jesting -after-word sank in: it might be an added risk--not for me, as he had -hinted, but for the women. So I reluctantly changed the order and -told him to go to the Vandeventer house to serve as an escort for the -ladies, when all was ready. - -He promised; and when I had seen him on his way down to the waterside, -I once more returned to Arnold’s house. For the time had now come when -boldness must take the place of caution. I dare not run the risk of -arousing the traitor’s suspicions by going clandestinely to the house -where Margaret Shippen was; and on the other hand I could not dodge the -necessity for telling Beatrix in person that her plea had been received -and acted on, and that Sprigg would come for her and Cousin Ju at the -fortunate moment. - -Arnold bade me come in, when I had climbed the stair and tapped on his -door, and, as always, I found him writing like a scrivener. - -“A cousin of mine is in town, and I am told she is leaving before long, -General,” I began. “Have I your permission to go and bid her good-by?” - -He looked up, and so far forgot his dignity as to make a wry face. - -“I have had the pleasure--in deference to your relationship, Captain -Page, I call it a pleasure--of meeting Mistress Pettus; also of taking -at her hands the blame for your leaving of the other army. I should -think you would be glad to have a fair duty excuse for omitting your -leave-takings.” - -“So I might, under other circumstances,” I began; “but--” - -“But Mistress Pettus has a traveling companion, you would say. Strange -that I should overlook, even for a fleeting moment, so charming a -fact. Ah, Captain, I can guess very well what has made you such a -willing letter carrier for me. I know of but one dear lady who is more -beautiful than Mistress Beatrix Leigh--which you may take for high -praise, since I have been permitted to see only the scornful curve of -Mistress Leigh’s lips and an unfriendly light in her eyes.” - -I can not tell how it ground me to have him talking thus of Beatrix, -in the kindly familiarity of a friend--this man with whom, come what -might, I meant to close in a death-grapple a few hours further on. It -is said that all the world loves a lover, and surely this applies to -that part of the world which is itself in the sweet toils. With all his -hideous faults, Arnold was still the devoted husband-lover of Margaret -Shippen; let him have the credit for that. And since he was--but I saw -that I must get away speedily. - -“I have your permission, then, General?” I asked; and he gave it in a -courtly bow, and turned back to his writing. - -I confess I had a most evil turn when the orderly on duty in the lower -hall saluted and let me out into the open air. From force of habit--the -habit of the hunted--I glanced up and down the street before venturing -beyond the shelter of the doorway. It was well that I did, for just -past the tavern, three men were coming on abreast, two of them plainly -recognizable as Lieutenant Charles Castner and the spy, James Askew; -and the third was strangely familiar in his gait and carriage, though -for the down-drooped hat-brim I could not see his face. - -My first impulse was to warn Champe; the next to stand still and see -what form the catastrophe threatened to take. If the trio was coming on -to Arnold’s door, I would step inside, call the sergeant to his duty, -and we would die as soldiers should. - -But this test of last-ditch courage was not made. At the door of the -hostelry the three men turned in and disappeared, and a few minutes -later, Castner came out alone and made straight for Sir Henry Clinton’s -quarters. That was my cue, and going to the orderly-room, I roused -Champe from his nap before the hearth. - -“Castner is back,” I said hastily. “He came down the street just now -with Askew and another man, left his companions at the tavern, and has -gone alone to Sir Henry Clinton’s house.” - -The sergeant yawned and felt tenderly of his throat, a gesture that was -growing into a habit with him. - -“Orders, Captain Dick,” he said, parrot-like. - -“There are none. I am going into the town for an hour or more, and you -may do as you think best: stay here and face it out when it comes, or -cut and run for it. You may have an hour’s grace, or two or three, or -no time at all.” - -“And you,” he said; “what will you do?” - -“I shall come back here and see the grist put through the mill, as I -may be allowed to.” - -“Then here I stay,” he announced calmly, sitting down; and so I left -him, hoping little ever to see him again as a free man. - -There was no corporal’s guard waiting to seize me at the outer door, as -I more than half expected there would be; and taking advantage of the -gathering dusk, I got away from the dangerous neighborhood as swiftly -and unobtrusively as possible, arguing that it would take some little -time for Castner to spread a net that would reach over any very wide -area of the town. - -Fifteen minutes later I was rattling the knocker on Mr. Vandeventer’s -door; and this time it was Beatrix who opened to me. - -“Oh!” she gasped; “I thought you would never come!” And when I stepped -within: “Something has happened--your face tells me. Oh, Dick! is -there--are you in danger?” - -Her eager solicitude was a balm to my soul, and just at that moment I -was needing balms. But I had no notion of adding my burdens to hers, -since hers were surely heavy enough as they lay. - -“There is no day or hour without its danger for a soldier,” I told her -evasively, and not to delay the chief matter--which was the getting of -her and my cousin safely a-sea before my _coup de grace_--or Benedict -Arnold’s--should fall--I asked if we might have privacy absolute for a -few moments while I should instruct her what she was to do. - -At this, she led me into the little room that I was coming to know as -the chamber of mingled bliss and torment, and carefully closed the door. - -“Cousin Ju is sleeping,” she said. “I persuaded her, expecting that our -night’s rest would be sadly broken. It will be, I know, Dick; I can -read that in your face, too.” - -I laughed, and said I must have a face like a large-print book; -whereat she came to me and took the face in question between her -soft palms, and for the moment I forgot everything save the loving, -tender eyes that were gazing into mine, and the sweet lips with the -tiny Cupid’s-bow curve at the corners of the sensitive mouth, and the -perfect oval of their setting, and the masses of lustrous hair to frame -the oval--but this would not do! - -“Yes; your rest is likely to be disturbed,” I told her, and thereupon -gave her an outline of the plan for the evasion of the order making a -potential troopship of the _Nancy Jane_. - -Her eyes were shining when I explained how Major Simcoe’s troop had -been got out of the way. - -“How like your cool daring that was, Dick! No one else would have -thought of trying to move a whole regiment to get a score of men -delayed in their embarking,” she commented. - -“I would have undertaken to move Sir Henry’s army in the mass to serve -you, dear,” I replied. Then I rehearsed the simple details again, so -there might be no misunderstanding. “You are to make yourselves ready -and stay here quietly until Captain Sprigg comes for you, no matter -how late that may be. He will take you by the quieter streets to the -river, and his boat will be in waiting. Once on board the schooner, you -must obey the captain in everything. He may have to fight his way out -of the harbor; I hope he may not, but it is possible. If he does--” - -“If he does, I shall not forget that I am a Leigh, and that my lover is -the handsomest, bravest soldier that ever drew sword,” she said, making -me blush again. Then she passed suddenly to my affair. “But you have -been talking altogether of us and our safety, Dick, and I am much more -concerned for yours. I know now that you are a true man and no traitor, -and the knowledge makes me shiver and cringe for every passing moment: -you’ll be taken--and--I shall not be here. Oh, Dick! when will it be -over? How long must you stay here under the shadow of that dreadful -thing on Gallows Hill?” - -“It will be over--to-night,” I prophesied, comforting her as I could. - -“But you do not say that you will escape!” she returned, her quick -intuition penetrating behind the masking words. - -“No; I can not say that, Beatrix. The thing I am pledged to do is a -most desperate thing: and the promise of success is not great. Yet, as -I say, it will be over to-night.” - -“Dick,” she said, coming close again, “what is this mission of yours -that puts your life in jeopardy every hour, that has made you lay aside -your dignity as an officer, that has been great enough to bring you -here as a deserter and to take a service, every step in which must be -a wretched lie? We may well be parting for the last time in our two -lives, Dick, dear: don’t deny me this time.” - -If she had not said that word about the parting--a word which was all -too likely to be true--I think I might still have withstood her. But -that one word broke down the barrier of my resolve, and so, flinging my -soldier promise to Mr. Hamilton to the winds, I told her all, in tones -that grew more and more the tones of shame when I realized what it -meant to spread the harsh, brutal, military necessity of the kidnapping -plan upon the tables of a pure woman’s mind and heart. - -She heard me through without interruption, sitting, as she had sat that -other night, gazing steadfastly into the heart of the embers on the -hearthstone. But when I had made an end, she began to speak in a low -voice, never letting her eyes meet mine. - -“I do not at all understand these things, Dick: no woman ever can, I -fear. We are taught at our mother’s knees that a lie is wrong; a thing -to shudder at, to turn away from in loathing. We are taught that the -finest things in those we love are truth and honor, and that the finest -of all is the high honor’s honor that rises above the most binding -necessity, or seeming necessity, that can constrain us. Yet you tell me -that all this must go down at the bidding of a thing called military -duty; that one must lie, cheat, steal, swear false oaths--” - -“No,” I interposed. “By some curious oversight I have not yet been -required to take the oath of allegiance to King George.” - -She put the excuse aside with a little gesture of patient weariness. - -“What does it matter whether or not you have missed the chance of -saying over the formal words? By every act and word and the breath -you draw, you are protesting that you are a true man in your present -standing. The man you will strike down to-night has had no hint of -warning; miserable traitor as he is, he still believes you are his -friend--not only his captain servant, but his friend. He trusts -you with his love-letters to his wife; he takes you fully into his -confidence. Is it not so?” - -“It is,” I confessed. And then I broke out passionately: “But my word -is passed; I must not give this up, Beatrix! You must not make me give -it up!” - -“And I shall not try, Dick, dear,” she went on in the same low tone. “I -shall merely try to fit myself into this new, this terrible scheme of -things: for I must believe in you: I must believe that you are doing -the right and honorable thing, though every fiber of me shudders in -horror at it. Oh, Dick, dear--don’t you see what a woman’s love must -be?” - -God of love, but I did see! I saw that her ideal had fallen into ruins -at her feet, and that she was trying to gather up the poor fragments, -calling them precious, still! How swift and sure her stroke had been! -How unerringly her keen unsullied sense of the higher right and wrong -had set its arrow quivering in the very heart of the target! Yet in -very shame I could not yield without a struggle. - -“The man is the basest of traitors; he has put himself beyond the pale -of mercy,” I insisted. - -“I am not speaking for the man: God knows how I detest and fear him, -though, for Peggy’s sake, I have tried to see only that humaner side of -him she would have me see. Nor do I say one word for poor heart-broken -Margaret, whom your deed will condemn to a living death. But for -yourself ... for your honor’s honor: oh, Dick, dear; is it too late to -save that?” - -I rose and went to stand beside her chair, knowing now that the angel I -spoke of a while back had indeed come with the saving heavenly fire to -light my poor candle that the vindictive blast had blown out. - -“No, Beatrix, love; it is not too late to stop, though it may well be -too late to turn back in safety. There is another involved in this with -me: a man from Major Lee’s Legion. He will be furious; but if I recant, -he at least, must be saved.” - -“For so generous a thing as that, Dick, your own good heart will -answer; you would never leave a subordinate to pay the score, of -course,” she said with the air of one who knows full well that blood -and breeding have their responsibilities that may not be pushed aside. - -From that I went a little deeper into the confessional pool, telling -her how Seytoun had harried me, knowing that he was safe behind my -promise to her, and how, if I should be happy enough ever to return -alive to the Tappan camp, I should be branded from end to end of it if -I should still refuse to fight Seytoun for his satisfaction. - -At this she wished to know particularly the cause of quarrel and how -Seytoun had offended; and when I told her that, too, and how he had -cast the slur not only upon the women of my own house, but also upon -hers, she bit her lip and I saw the beautiful eyes kindle. - -“I would have saved his miserable life for him, Dick, if I could. That -was why I made you promise--I knew you would remember his killing of -your kinsman and slay him without mercy if you ever got him at your -sword’s point. And now, my lover, I release you. If he pushes this -quarrel on you--” - -It was enough, and I took her in my arms and kissed her, saying, -because it had to be said, sooner or later: - -“Good-by, dearest. The parting time has come. In the larger matter I -can’t promise; but I’ll do what lies in me. If I am strong enough to -rise to your high plane, I’ll come to you, if I can--when I can--with -clean hands. But if I am not great enough, I shall not ask you to marry -the fragments.” - -“But I love the fragments,” she said simply; and this was her word of -leave-taking. - -Once more out in the keen cold air of the December night and I was face -to face with the moment of decision. Love, duty, honor, and vindictive -hatred of Benedict Arnold all dragged me their several ways; but -when at last I won back unhindered to the house of doom, and to the -guard-room where John Champe was pacing moodily back and forth before a -cold hearth, the decision was no longer trembling in the balance. As if -a veil had been swept aside I saw into what depths vindictive rage and -soldier patriotism had plunged me. Mr. Hamilton, himself, I felt sure, -would be the first to call me back if he could know that I must sink -myself neck-deep in a mire of perfidy too foul to be borne if I were to -accomplish now the thing he had sent me to do. - - - - -XX - -TRAITORS ALL - - -IT WAS still early in the evening when I reentered the ground-floor -room of Arnold’s house--the room of the cold hearth--on my return from -the soul-searching, but most heart-warming interview with Beatrix -Leigh. Champe wheeled quickly to face me at the door-closing, and I saw -that his day-long moodiness had vanished to give place to suppressed -excitement. - -“My God!” he said grittingly. “I thought you’d never come!--or that the -provost-guard with the handcuffs would get here first. Sir Judas has -played fairly into our hands at last. For a good half-hour past he has -been walking in the garden--alone!” - -“Ah?” said I, seeing how poignantly the matter had climaxed in my short -absence, and not seeing, in the suddenness of it, what course I ought -to steer. “So you think our chance has come?” - -“Think?” he echoed; “think? Why, Captain Dick, isn’t it the very bone -and marrow of the thing we’ve been praying for? We’ve but to go quietly -and raise the boat from the river-bottom where we sank it, to make -all ready, nab him, and away up-river in the darkness. The very night -belongs to us--black dark, and with the wind quartering right to blow -us where we wish to go. Come; we are wasting the precious minutes!” And -while he was struggling into his watchcoat he kept on saying over and -over again: “Good God--if he will only give us time!” - -He was out and away before I could say more to him, and I followed more -leisurely, turning over in my mind a dozen expedients which might serve -in the last resort to make this climaxing broadside flash in the pan. -For now there was no more hesitation. In the open field, or even with -the poor chance that the hunted fox has, after he has heard the dogs -baying at his heels, I would have flung myself upon the traitor to take -him, or let him kill me as I tried. But to win his confidence, as I -had, and then to steal up and garrote him like a wretched footpad was -no longer among the possibilities for an officer and a gentleman--and a -Virginian. - -None the less, there was a thing to be done, and done quickly. Champe -had no such scruples as these I had so lately admitted, and I must -swiftly invent a way to stop him from putting his neck solus, as you -might say, into the hangman’s halter. For I made no doubt that, lacking -my help or countenance at the pinch, my dour-faced sergeant would -thrust me aside, with a saber slash if no other means offered, and -fling himself madly into the kidnapping breach single-handed and alone. - -You are to figure these reflections flashing themselves upon the -mental mirror as I stepped from the fireless guard-room into the broad -entrance hall which was used as a lounging place indifferently by -Arnold’s aides or Sir Henry Clinton’s. When I passed through there were -three young fellows with their feet to the fire; young Hetheridge, -Ensign Brewster, and an aide of General Phillips’ whose name I had -heard but had promptly forgotten. - -“Good evening to you, Captain Page,” said Hetheridge; “are you off -after your black-faced sergeant? What ails the beggar that half the -time he forgets to salute his betters in passing?” - -I was about to make some indifferent rejoinder and go on to the door -when the thought struck me that here was a chance to drive a small nail -for Champe against the day of need. - -“The sergeant is a law to himself, like one of the old Cromwell -Ironsides,” I replied lightly. “He should have been born in the other -century, when we should have seen him going about with a Bible in -one hand and a two-edged slaughter sword in the other. I advise you -young gentlemen to walk straight: otherwise he’ll be denouncing you as -traitors, some fine day when you least suspect it.” - -Brewster laughed. - -“He looks like a man who would denounce his own blood brother if the -occasion should arise. For the last half-hour he has been raging up and -down in that cold guard-room muttering and cursing to himself like a -madman, and I dare swear I heard your name mingled in his maledictions, -Captain Page.” - -“I don’t doubt it,” I agreed readily. “The sergeant has had a -suspicious eye on me for some little time past. He is a grim devil -of a fellow, I promise you, and no man’s good company. I begged the -general’s permission to keep him by me as a soldier-servant, but lord! -he’d sour the milk before the milkmaid could get it strained into her -crocks.” - -“Being such a devil, I wonder he didn’t stay with the other -devils--saving your presence, Captain,--on the far side of the Neutral -Ground,” young Hetheridge put in. - -Now all this talk was a cruel wasting of most critical time, but I -paused to drive the saving nail yet a little farther into the wood. - -“Champe may be like some others of that devilish rank and file you -speak of, Mr. Hetheridge; one who has been constrained against his will -to go barefoot and empty-bellied in a cause that meant nothing to him. -At any rate, you can find no fault with his present loyalty. You may -believe it or not, as you please, but when he first saw me here in New -York he took me for a spy, broke into my room at the tavern and all but -had me choked to death before I could get the better of him.” - -There was a laugh at this, and then the young fellow whose name I could -not remember, said: “I wish you joy of such a soldier-servant as that; -I do, indeed.” And, as I laid a hand on the door-latch; “Drink an extra -posset for me, while you’re about it, Captain Page, if that’s what you -are going after. My throat is as dry as a desert.” - -It was well that they should think I was on my way to the tavern, and -I vanished while the notion lay uppermost in their minds. Champe was -waiting for me at the corner of the house, and he was fairly shaking -with fierce impatience. - -His greeting of me took the form of a raging oath directed at my -time-killing with the young fellows at the house fire; and then: “While -you were dallying I got a glimpse of him--he’s there yet, tramping up -and down the walk. Hell and furies--if he’ll only give us time--time!” -And again, before I could have any speech with him, he was dragging me -by a roundabout way to come at the back of the garden enclosure and to -the place where our sunken boat was lying. - -While we were waiting for our chance to dodge the pacing sentry on the -river bank, speech was still impossible, but in the interval I began to -get some glimmerings of a plan which would solve the wretched tangle, -and at the same time give Champe his leave to escape. - -We both saw Arnold through the gap in the fence, which was still open. -Once he extended his walk on the garden path to come and stand almost -within touching distance of us as we lay crouching in the shadows. He -seemed to be staring out over the river which the gale was lashing -into yeasty foam-crests. I marveled at his indifference to danger, the -more since he had not seemed at all indifferent hitherto. And now he -had more cause to fear, knowing by the broken lock and the muddy foot- -and finger-marks that at least one desperate attempt had been made to -abduct him. But, as I have said before, cowardice in any real pinch of -danger was not among his many faults. - -Nothing would have been easier than for us to seize and bind and gag -him there and then, leaving him so fettered and silenced to wait on -the issues of our boat recovery. Champe was hot for doing this, and I -had much ado to hold him back. When we had our opportunity to pass the -sentry, Arnold had gone back to his tramping of the garden path and I -felt that the worst of the crisis was now safely passed. - -Reaching the water’s edge we groped for our mooring rock and found the -boat’s painter fastened as we had left it. In the task of raising the -boat, Champe worked like a demon, wading in the icy water to tug and -haul, and when the little craft finally showed her nose, plunging his -arms shoulder deep to remove the weighting stones. Since the pacing -sentinel passed and repassed on the bank above us every five minutes or -so, silence and caution were prime necessities; and again and again I -had to warn my companion on the score of his reckless and frantic haste. - -So working and halting, the task was accomplished at last; and when the -final stone was removed and we had rocked and rolled the boat gently on -the beach to free it of some of the water, Champe got in to bail while -I held the gunwale and kept an ear alert for the sentry’s comings and -goings. - -“All ready, Captain Dick,” muttered the frenzied one when he had -finished the bailing and had carefully pulled the oars from their -anchorings under the thwarts. “Make fast, and hold her so until I get -out.” - -The time was come for striking the deadly blow, and it fell upon poor -Champe without warning. - -“Stay where you are, Sergeant,” I commanded in low tones. “The game is -up, and we shall not do this thing which we set out to do. Take the -oars and let the tide and your two arms get you safely back to Major -Lee’s camp at Tappan while you have the chance.” - -I could not see his face in the darkness, but my imagination could very -well picture the fierce rage which was distorting it. - -“What’s that you say?” he choked. “You are giving it up?--now, when -the devil himself couldn’t balk us? In God’s name, what do you mean, -Captain Dick?”--this last in an agonized whisper. - -“I mean precisely what I say; you can not take him alone, and I shall -not help you.” - -“You are turning your back upon it, and you are staying here?” he -muttered, as one half dazed. Then he came suddenly alive to the full -meaning of my words: “You are a foul traitor, Captain Richard Page! -Curse you, curse you, curse you!--that Judas and the women have won you -over! I’ll see you hanged for this, if so be I have to hang with you! -Out of my way, or I’ll kill you where you stand!” - -He had started up, and was clambering over the thwarts to get at me, -when I stooped and gave the boat a mighty shove out into the stream. -The sudden lurch made him lose his balance and come down with a noisy -crash among the unshipped oars. As quick as thought, the sentry on -the bank above cried out his challenge of “Halt! Who goes there?” but -Champe, furious as he was, was yet wary enough to lie still, letting -the wind and tide carry him on. The sentry did not climb down the bank -to investigate, as I made sure he would; and better still, he did not -fire his piece to give the alarm. I thought surely that Arnold must -have heard his shout, in which case my capture would be certain. - -That the shouted challenge had been heard, I had proof presently in -a wind-blown muttering of voices at the top of the bank overhead. I -figured that the sentry had stopped to speak to Arnold, but I could -make no move to escape. Champe’s boat had disappeared in the darkness, -but I could not tell whether it had gone up or down the river or was -drifting with wind and tide out toward the Jersey shore. It was enough -that it had gone, as I fondly hoped, beyond the possibility of a -return. Champe, I fancied, would come to his senses shortly and make -his way to safety. Surely he would know that it would be nothing short -of suicide for him to land again within the enemy’s lines. - -When all was quiet again on the bank above I still had to wait some -little time before venturing to cross the sentry’s path on my retreat. -There was good hope in the interval since I neither heard nor saw more -of the sergeant and was thus convinced that he was making the best of -his way out of the peril. More than once, however, while I waited, I -could distinguish the sound of Arnold’s footsteps on the gravel walk in -the garden, so I knew that the traitor had not been frightened away by -whatever talk he had had with the bank-pacing sentry. - -Since boldness is often the truest kind of caution, it was in my mind -that I should snatch my chance to pass the sentry and so slip through -the gap in the fence to join Arnold in the garden, trusting to my wit -to frame a plausible excuse for the intrusion. Though for honor’s sake -I had turned my back on the purpose of betraying our chief deserter, I -meant to delay my own escape long enough to make sure that Champe was -safely out of the way. Try as I might, I could not rid myself of the -fear that he might yet be retaken, and in that case he would sorely -need a friend at court to save him from the rope. You will say that I -might have cut this knot by going with him in the boat, but I confess -frankly that I had no stomach for such an enterprise. Indeed, as -matters stood at our parting, it was plainly evident that I should have -had to kill him or let him kill me to patch up a peace between us. - -It was with a mind strangely confused by the sudden turn which I had -forced our fortunes to take that I climbed the bank and dodged the -sentry and made my way by the roundabout route Champe and I had taken, -back to the street. I went this way, not because I was afraid to carry -out that purpose of going through the garden, but because, in passing -the gap in the fence, I found the garden walk untenanted, and a light -showing in the upper windows of the house to tell me that Arnold had -gone back to his office workroom. - -With my feet pressing the familiar pavements in front of the house, it -came to me suddenly and with a curious little shock that I had lighted -upon an entirely new world; a world in which I was at the same moment -a man of rejuvenated honor and a hunted fugitive. I say it without -shame that for the moment my eyes were dimmed and a rush of emotions -too varied to be analyzed came swiftly over me. It is no light thing to -fling one’s self, heart and soul, into the accomplishment of a certain -purpose and then to turn short and take the path of renunciation at the -very climax of success. - -Yet I felt strangely light-hearted, and as if a huge burden had been -lifted from my shoulders. Now that all was over, I could realize very -clearly that neither General Washington nor Mr. Hamilton could possibly -have foreseen any such wading in the pool of duplicity for me as that -into which my emprise had pushed me. Also, I understood that when they -should be made aware of all the circumstances they would be the first -to approve this final step of withdrawal which, lacking Beatrix Leigh’s -gentle promptings, I might never have taken. - -So my conscience was clear at last and yet all this had little bearing -upon things present and pressing. When all was said, I was to the full -as likely to pay the spy’s penalty now as I should have been had I been -taken red-handed in the very act of abducting Arnold. The facts of my -mission were all known to Castner, and it was upon these facts, and -not upon the accomplishment, that I should be tried and condemned. Why -Castner had waited so long before springing his trap I could not guess. -Now that he was back from wherever he had been and with the spy Askew -safely in tow, a word to Sir Henry Clinton and another to Arnold were -all that were needed. And, surely, Castner had had time to preach an -entire sermon to either or both of them since I had seen him passing -the tavern with his two companions. - -I had a part answer to this puzzling question of the reason for -Castner’s delay when, while I was as yet hanging upon my heel and not -knowing which way to turn, I saw an officer with the shoulder-straps of -a general descending Sir Henry Clinton’s steps; a man walking slowly -and with his head bowed and his hands tightly locked behind him. -The man was Benedict Arnold; and they had just been giving him the -undeniable proof of my treachery. I knew it as well as if I had been an -eavesdropper at the conference behind Sir Henry Clinton’s closed door. - -Now you may scoff, if you will, but this discovery, the clinching of -the nail, as you may say, hurt me unspeakably for the moment. Deny it -as we may, we do all live more or less upon the good opinions of our -fellow creatures; and surely I had painted myself as a villain of the -deepest dye for this man who was coming on with his head bowed and -carrying in his heart a bitter disappointment to go with him back to -his quarters in the adjoining house. - -I turned away, immeasurably saddened in spite of the strange and most -welcome heart-lightening; and I do think I would have given much at -that moment to be able to tell Arnold that I had spared him at the -final crisis. He would never know, and perhaps that was best; yet I -thought it was a needless twist of the thumb-screws of fate both for -him and for me that he could not know. - -But there was no time for repining. I had no thought of taking the -first step in an effort to secure my own safety until after I should -have made sure of Beatrix’s embarkation and departure; indeed, it -was this, as much as anything else, that had made me miss the chance -of fighting it out with the saturnine sergeant in the boat. By every -lover’s obligation it was my first duty to see Beatrix and my Cousin Ju -on board the _Nancy Jane_, with the staunch little schooner plunging -on its way down the bay; and after that I could make my flight--if -Champe should not have turned up again to need a friend, and if all the -avenues should not be closed to me. - -But the more I thought of the seaward venture for the two women the -less I liked it. It was a rough night, with the wind in the wrong -quarter and the lower bay still cluttered with the waiting ships -of Arnold’s expeditionary fleet. Again, Sprigg’s vessel might be -detained; at any hour it might be boarded by the harbor patrols, and -its contraband lading--the recovered tobacco--turned up to the light. -In that case I knew that the military authority which had winked at -the ransoming of the tobacco cargo could not, and would not, openly -intervene. - -Worse than all, Major Simcoe’s troop might return from its wild-goose -chase on the Tarrytown road in time to claim passage rights for its -twenty-man quota on the _Nancy Jane_. Perhaps the Rangers had returned -already! - -With that threatening possibility in mind I resolved to go at once to -the barracks on a spying reconnaissance, and if I should find that -Simcoe’s troop had returned, to press quickly on to the Vandeventer -house to hasten the embarkation. But first I yielded to a madman’s -prompting that had been fretting at me ever since Champe’s boat had -disappeared in the darkness and I had realized that I was once more a -free man. It was no less than a foolish notion that I should like to -show myself to Beatrix at the parting moment in my true colors--the -same patriot homespun I had worn when she had given me God-speed at the -door of her father’s house in Virginia, and which I had exchanged so -unwillingly for these cursed facings of Arnold’s Loyal Americans. - -Now that I had cut loose once and for all from the tanglings -of chicanery and deceit, this uniform of Arnold’s Legion was -hateful--doubly hateful. To every eye that saw me in it, it told an -added lie; and I was sick and nauseated with lying. Could I not slip -into the tavern and find my portmanteau and make the change? - -It seemed feasible enough; and a stealthy peering through the windows -of the lighted tap-room showed me a measurably clear field. A Quaker -in a drab long-coat and broadbrim sat at one of the tables smoking a -thin-stemmed church-warden. Two Hessians of Knyphausen’s were guzzling -ale at another; and the Irish barman was nodding sleeping behind his -wicket. - -I opened the door and entered, passing quickly to the stair and -reaching it before the aproned Irishman at the bar could do more than -rouse himself and say, “Och, ’tis yourself, then, is it, Captain Page?” -and straightway fall to nodding again. - -Coming to the barn-like room above-stairs which had apparently lain -undisturbed since Champe and I had forsaken it to become fugitives two -days before, I found flint, steel and tinder box, and a candle-end to -flare gustily in the cold drafts of the place while I made the swift -change from red and green to homespun blue. Flinging the badges of -disgrace into the corner, I replaced the Scots’ rapier in its belt, -thinking that I must, after all, be beholden to King George for this -much of my equipment. For Champe still had my horse-saber, and I would -not go on Beatrix’s business weaponless. - -Being now ready to run the gauntlet of the tap-room again I sallied out -and groped my way to the stair-head. A hubbub of voices was rising from -the room below and when I had stepped cautiously down to the landing -turn I saw that my fate had already outrun me. In the few minutes which -had elapsed since my passing through it, the tap-room had filled with -soldiers and a crowding throng of riff-raff from the street; and by the -light of the bar candles I saw Castner. He was questioning the Irish -barman sharply and the good pot-filler was trying his best to shield me. - -“Arrah, now, Liftenant, dear! is it Captain Page you’d be asking for? -Shure I haven’t seen the smilin’ face av him these four hours. Would he -be comin’ here widout me knowin’ ut?” - -At this point there was a stir in the crowd and a tail man, soaked -and dripping, pushed his way rudely up to Castner’s elbow. I looked -and looked again, and gasped. By all the lunatics that ever filled a -Bedlam, it was John Champe! - -“Don’t believe that lying Irishman, Lieutenant Castner!” he cried out -hoarsely. “I tell you I saw him enter here--no longer ago than the time -it took me to run and fetch you, sir!” - -I saw Castner’s involuntary shrinking from the man who was thus -betraying one who at least held the claim of being a fellow-countryman, -a fellow-soldier, and a fellow-deserter. I confess that, at first, it -seemed blankly incredible to me that Champe should be doing this. If -the spy Askew’s story was to be taken as a whole, the sergeant from -Major Lee’s Legion was involved no less deeply than the captain from -Baylor’s Horse. But there was no mistaking his intention. There were -black circles around his eyes and he was so drunk with passion that he -could scarcely stand without leaning against the barman’s wicket. - -My first impulse was to steal back up the stair to try a drop from -one of the windows. But when I would have translated the impulse into -action, another man, a small rattish man in gray clothes and with a -great bunch of seals dangling at his watch-fob, thrust himself forward -out of the mob of onlookers and I heard his whispered word to Castner. - -“On the stair landing, Lieutenant. Look for yourself, and let the -Irishman spare his lying evasions!” - -Castner looked as directed, bowing gravely when he saw me. - -“Come down, Captain Page, and surrender your sword,” he commanded, -soberly stern; and the brabble of voices ceased and a sudden hush fell -on the room. Also, I noticed when Castner spoke and all eyes were -turned to my landing, Champe drew back behind the more forward ones in -the crowd and I saw him no more. - -Now that the suspense was ended and open war was declared, I felt -better and could even lean over the stair-rail and laugh down upon -these king’s bush-beaters. - -“You want my sword, Lieutenant?” I retorted. “I’ll give it to you, or -to any man whose need is greater than my own--always provided that you -or he will take it point foremost.” - -“I make the demand in the king’s name,” said Castner, refusing to -be either joked or jarred out of his even-toned soberness. And then -he added, out of the heart of friendliness, I do think: “I wouldn’t -make it harder for you than I must, Captain Page. You should see that -resistance is madness.” - -“I see that you may order your men to train their muskets on me and -bring me down bird-wise, Mr. Castner. I do assure you it will be far -more merciful than those other designs you have on me.” - -He took me at my word with a soldierly disregard for further -parleyings. In a trice he had cleared the space to the stair-foot, and -had given the order to five of his musketeers. When their pieces were -leveled he gave me one more chance. - -“Once more, and for the last time, will you come down and render -yourself, Captain Page?” - -“With pleasure!” I cried; and whipping the rapier from its sheath I -vaulted over the stair-rail and fell upon him so heartily that he was -driven fairly back among his musket men before he could bare steel and -defend himself. - -Lord! but there was a scattering among those gaping lookers-on! Never -have I seen buyers in the eagerest market so anxious to get to the -front--only their front was the rear. With an onset so vigorous and -unexpected, I might have cut and thrust my way to the door, if it had -not been for the cursed little gray-coated spy, James Askew. But at the -charging instant he dodged to get behind me, and I knew better than to -leave an enemy of his temper unaccounted for in the rear. My foining -to get a side-thrust at the spy gave Castner his chance to draw; and -in another breath we were at it, hammer and tongs, Castner striving -manfully to press me to the wall, and Dickie Page fighting as a man -fights when he knows that his hours are strictly numbered, and who asks -no more of this world and his enemies therein than the chance to die -while his blood is leaping battle-warm. - -It was the cur Askew who ended it, after all, though not as he meant -to, I’ll dare swear. In our stamping rushes and thrustings and -parryings, Castner and I had him penned in a corner, and at length, in -a wide flanconade, my sword’s point touched him on the outward sweep -to line. With a yelp like that of a pricked dog, he darted out of his -corner and made to get away, rushing blindly into the zone of whistling -sword blades. - -It was the end of him, as well as of the sword play. He was just in -time to catch the swift following thrust with which Castner replied to -my attack, and the lieutenant’s blade passed clean through him; through -his heart, I think, for he dropped like a stone, and gave only a shiver -before his eyes glazed and his jaw fell. - -This was my fair chance to kill Lieutenant Charles Castner, of the -King’s Own; but I hope we Pages are something better than assassins, -even when the blood is hot and we are fighting for our lives. My point -went to the floor, and I stepped back to let Castner disengage; then -the musketeers flung their pieces aside and made their smothering rush, -and I was done. - -The lieutenant was considerably out of breath when he pulled his -sword from the spy’s body and fell fiercely upon his men, who were -mishandling me pretty cruelly. - -“Your word that you will not try to escape, Captain Page!” he panted; -but I would not give it. - -“No; ‘safe bind, safe find,’ is your motto, my good friend,” I said -cheerfully, holding out my wrists for the cord. - -It galled him to do it, but he would not fail in any part of his duty. - -“I have had too much trouble in overtaking you,” he said in -extenuation, when the soldiers were tying my hands; with all the -riff-raff of idlers turned back now to look on, gaping. - -“What a pity you have lost your witness,” I remarked, indicating the -dead spy. - -“The less valuable of my witnesses,” he corrected curtly. “Unhappily -for you, there is another and more credible one.” - -This remark of his set me to wondering. Then I remembered the third man -who had walked with Castner and the spy in the afternoon--the man whose -face I could not see, but whose gait and figure had been singularly -familiar. Was this the “more credible” witness? I should soon know. - -We stayed no time at all in the tavern after the hand-tying. With a -word to the inn people about the disposition of the body of James -Askew, Castner disciplined his corporal’s guard and we took the open -air for it, pointing not for Sir Henry Clinton’s house, as I supposed -we should, but on past it toward Fort George. - -Within the walls of the fort, we marched silently to the house of the -commander, a long low structure of Dutch brick, facing the parade -ground. Two rooms of it were well lighted, and when the door was opened -and I was thrust in, I saw that the court-martial was sitting and -waiting for me, and that I was confronting my judges. - - - - -XXI - -THE DRUMHEAD COURT - - -SOME of the British officers gathered in the fort commandant’s room to -hold the court-martial were known to me by name, but that which gave -me the greatest shock was the sight of Major Simcoe, sitting stern and -thoughtful behind the up-ended drum. For his presence argued the return -of the Queen’s Rangers from their wild-goose chase up the Tarrytown -road, and their return promised the collapse of my care-taking plot to -insure the escape of Beatrix and my cousin on the _Nancy Jane_. - -But they gave me little time for the anxious lover-thought, these -stern gentlemen who were holding an inquest rather than a trial. With -a haughty nod, to indicate my place in the prisoner’s dock, I suppose, -General Phillips, who sat as judge-advocate, signed to Simcoe, and -the major cleared his throat. I saw the burly Knyphausen tilting in -his chair; the two Hessian captains sitting on either side of him; -the commandant of the fort; a major; and a lieutenant-colonel of Sir -Henry’s staff: saw, also, that neither Clinton nor Arnold was present. -And then Major Simcoe began to recite the charges against me, Castner -bending over to untie my hands as the reading went on. - -It was evident, before the charges were half read, that I had been -tried and condemned beforehand; that whatever I should say or do would -in no wise modify the sentence which had already been determined on. -That conviction broke the final thread of prudence in me; and when the -major came to that part of his manuscript where it was set forth that -I had entered the British lines as a spy and an emissary of General -Washington’s, with the premeditated purpose of kidnapping General -Benedict Arnold, I laughed hardily, and said I should like to be -confronted with the proofs, if there were any. - -“You shall be accommodated, Mr. Page,” returned Simcoe gravely. And -then to Castner: “Bring in the man, James Askew, if you please, -Lieutenant.” - -At this I laughed again, and said, most impertinently: “Having run -his sword through the body of the said James Askew a few minutes ago, -Lieutenant Castner makes his apologies to the court, and--” - -“Silence, sir!” thundered Phillips, frowning me down; and I held my -peace while Castner explained, rather shamefacedly, how the spy had -come to his end. - -“Then we will take your testimony, Mr. Castner,” said Simcoe; whereupon -the lieutenant told in a straightforward way how the spy Askew had -first informed him of my purpose; how, when the story, second-handed -on to Sir Henry Clinton, had resulted only in an order for my arrest -and detention, which order had been suspended, he, Castner, had gone -with Askew to meet an officer of Major Henry Lee’s Legion--one who knew -the facts from the rebel side, and who, for the sake of common honor, -would substantiate Askew’s story. - -Much more the lieutenant said, and doubtless the court listened to -him. But I did not. My senses had gone blank to all outward happenings -at that mention of an officer of my own fellowship who had made an -appointment with Castner and the spy to insure my undoing. Admitting -that Mr. Hamilton’s secret had leaked out, what man in all the patriot -army hated me cordially enough to do this despicable thing? There was -but one answer to that query: I had come between Howard Seytoun and -the woman of his desire. For no lighter cause would any man turn his -back upon his country, his honor as a soldier, his loyalty to the -brotherhood of the army. - -When I listened again, Major Simcoe was saying: “Your word is -sufficient, of course, Mr. Castner. But for the sake of the -formalities, a statement from this officer you speak of would sit well -on the records of this court.” - -“I anticipated that,” said Castner promptly. “Under an assurance of -safe-conduct back to his own lines, the officer has accompanied me to -New York.” Then, to one of his men: “Warnock, bring the Continental -captain in.” - -The man went out, and when next the door was opened, I saw what I was -fully expecting to see. Seytoun came in, blinking at the lights, his -bloated face flushing purple, and his shifty eyes looking anywhere save -in my direction. - -“Will you be good enough to answer a few questions, Captain Seytoun?” -said Simcoe, taking a most gentlemanly tone with this double-dyed -renegade and villain. “You have offered Lieutenant Castner a -corroboration of the charge against Captain Richard Page; namely, the -fact set forth by the man James Askew: that Captain Page came to New -York as a spy and a kidnapper. Is this true?” - -“It is,” muttered my accuser in a low tone. - -“Upon what grounds do you assert this, Captain Seytoun?” cut in one of -Knyphausen’s aides. - -“It is the common talk in our camps.” - -“You lie, Captain Seytoun--like the father of lies after whom you -are named,” I said coolly; for now I remembered Askew’s story of his -escape from the guard house at Tappan, and could easily add two and two -together. - -Simcoe would have put me down with harsh bluster; but now Phillips, -cold-eyed and haughty, intervened suddenly. - -“Can you impeach the witness, Captain Page?” he demanded. - -“I can. By his own confession, James Askew lay under sentence of death -in General Washington’s camp at Tappan. He escaped by the connivance of -the officer of the guard. The bribe he offered and paid was the sharing -of a certain secret with that villain who stands there, and the secret -was this highly incredible story upon which you have convicted me, -General Phillips. This man knows nothing but that which the spy, Askew, -told him, and for aught that can be proved now, the story may well have -been nothing more than a tissue of falsehoods, made up for the spy’s -own purpose,” I answered boldly. - -Seytoun might have outfaced me in this, if he had been endowed with -the right kind of brazen courage: it was but my word against his. But -his face was an open confession of guilt, and I think they all saw it, -though, as I say, his testimony was a mere matter of court-martial -routine--my fate had been predetermined long before. - -A silence fell upon the room, and it was Major Simcoe who broke it. - -“Captain Page, your conviction,”--I remarked that he used the -word,--“does not turn upon these preliminaries, which serve merely to -show premeditation and design. Whether you came as Mr. Washington’s -emissary, or upon your own initiative, matters not: the fact remains -that you not only intended to kidnap General Arnold; you have actually -made the attempt. Do you deny that, sir?” - -I did not see what good could come of adding lies to lies, at least, in -my own behalf. By this time it must be known that Champe and I were the -two who had eaten our suppers in the Dutch boat-builder’s house, the -two who had stolen the boat, and, quite as inevitably, the two who had -broken into Arnold’s house to find the empty bed. If I hesitated, it -was only because I was striving to devise some way of saving Champe. - -“I do not deny it,” I said, when the pause had grown to an impossible -length. - -“Ah!” said the major; and the exclamation was echoed in an audible sigh -of relief on all sides. Then, fixing me with a look that was not all -unkindly, Simcoe went on. “Your opportunities for carrying out your -desperate enterprise have been all that you could ask; you have so won -upon General Arnold’s confidence that he has trusted you fully, and -even now, he yields only to the incontestable facts, and would shield -you if he could. You must have had more than one chance of carrying out -your design.” - -“I had,” I broke in. “No more than an hour ago, Mr. Arnold was walking -in his garden, alone. Once he came and stood within an arm’s reach of -me; and I had a boat at the river’s edge in which to make my escape.” - -“Ah!” he said again, and this time the exclamation was a sharp -indrawing of the breath. “You spared him; will you tell us why, Captain -Page? It can make no difference for or against you, now.” - -“It is easily explained,” I said, smiling to give dissimulation the -proper mask. “There were two of us; and at the crucial instant one of -the two could not, or rather would not, rise to his opportunity--when -he found out what that opportunity really meant.” - -Simcoe nodded, and I marked the swift glance of intelligence that -passed from one to another of my judges. Once more I had been able to -impose upon them. They were saying to themselves that at the crisis the -loyal sergeant had refused to be dragged into the kidnapping--which was -as I had hoped. After which, Phillips took me up. - -“Add a little more to your frankness, Mr. Page, and earn the -satisfaction that comes from doing a worthy deed at the last,” he said -austerely. “Do you confess that you have made a tool of Sergeant Champe -in all this conspiracy?” - -“I confess it,” I said, striving to keep the keen joy of the success -of my stratagem out of the words. “In all the twistings and turnings -of the last three days, the sergeant has been merely a well terrified -common soldier acting under compulsion coupled with threats to have him -hanged for a spy if he refused to obey me. It was I who plotted to keep -him ashore when he came as your letter carrier, Major Simcoe; and in -all subsequent matters, he has straitly obeyed my orders, doing what -he was told to do in the fear of death, and disobeying me only in the -final critical moment I have just been telling you about.” - -It was here that I was made to feel the curious prickings that come -upon getting the credit for a good deed when the credit is not fairly -earned. - -“You know that the sergeant denounced you, and pointed out the place -of your concealment to Lieutenant Castner?” queried the major of Sir -Henry’s staff. - -“I do, and I applaud his resolution, sir. That is the kind of loyalty I -should be rejoiced to discover in my own men. He but did his duty, as -he saw it.” - -Then this major, whose name I have never known, rose up in his place -and gripped my hand most heartily. - -“You are a true man and a gentleman, Captain Richard Page, -notwithstanding the fact that we shall have to hang you presently,” -he said, with bluff good nature; and I thanked him gravely, with that -curious prickling that I speak of tingling in my finger-ends. - -After this, Major Simcoe asked if I had anything further to say before -I should be remanded under guard, and I rose and said I had, if the -gentlemen present would bear with me. At General Phillips’s nod, I went -on. - -“One thing I wish to say is this: as Lieutenant Castner has explained, -the spy, James Askew, went to his long account by an accident. But Mr. -Castner’s sword has merely saved your hangman an item in his day’s -work. I had speech with Askew two days since, as he may or may not have -confessed to Lieutenant Castner. In the course of that interview he -admitted to me, inadvertently, that he was the man who sold Major André -to those who took him.” - -The effect of this little shot was quite what I had expected. There -were deep and bitter oaths of satisfaction at Askew’s death, and more -than one word of thanks to me for setting this matter, which had been -in doubt, finally at rest. This emboldened me to go on, for I had a -boon to ask. - -“That is one thing, General Phillips,” I said, addressing the highest -authority I could reach. “Another is in the nature of a condemned man’s -final request. I have an unfinished engagement with Captain Howard -Seytoun, an engagement entered into before I left the camp at Tappan, -and I pray you to grant me a short quarter-hour with him on the fort -parade or in a guarded room, under such restrictions as you may see fit -to impose.” - -I don’t know what might have come of this request if Seytoun had held -his peace. The British officers of Sir Henry Clinton’s military -family were great sticklers for the point of honor, notwithstanding -the well-known opposition of the knight himself to the common practise -of dueling. But Seytoun must needs draw himself up scornfully and say -that he had no cause of quarrel sufficient to make him wish to give -satisfaction to a condemned spy. - -At this, I went rage-mad, of course, like a hot-headed fool, and sprang -across the intervening space and struck him; after which I was hustled -off under guard, as I deserved to be for so greatly offending the -dignity of the court; hustled out, and across the parade ground, and -into a cold, bare barracks room, where Castner came to find me a few -minutes later. - -“Well?” I said, rightly guessing that he was the bearer of news. - -“Your sentence has been passed, Captain Page, and now that I know you -better, I am truly sorry to be General Phillips’s messenger. You are to -be confined in a cell under the battlements of the fort until midnight, -at which hour you will be taken to Gallows Hill and hanged. It is a -terrible short road for you, Captain, and I begged them to make it a -little longer, but--” - -He choked, and could say no more; and truly, I think I may say without -boasting that I was sorrier for this clean-hearted, noble young fellow -than I was for myself, just at the moment. But that sorrow, and my -own, and all things else were quickly swept out of my mind by a most -miserable anxiety for Beatrix. Had Simcoe’s troopers been ordered to -the ships? There was one chance in a thousand that Castner might know, -and I put the question to him as he was turning me over to the fort -prison guard. - -“Tell me, Lieutenant,” I said hurriedly; “do you chance to know if the -Queen’s Rangers have been given their embarking orders yet? You will -betray no trust in telling a dead man.” - -He answered without hesitation. - -“They have been embarking this evening since supper,” he said, little -thinking what a stone he rolled upon my soul in these few words. And -then: “Is there anything else, Captain Page?” - -“Yes. From what was said in the court room yonder you doubtless -gathered how much, or rather how little, Sergeant Champe has been to -blame in all that he was made to bear a part in. Because you are a -soldier and a gentleman, Lieutenant Castner, I know you have small -respect for Benedict Arnold; but for the same reason I am sure you will -say a word to him for this poor fellow who, after all, was your best -means of bringing me to book. Will you say that word?” - -But now Castner swore savagely and said he would not--to Arnold, though -if any move were made to question Champe he would come between as he -could. - -“That is all I ask,” I interposed. “Champe is but an unlettered fellow, -and if you were to put him upon the rack, he would be helpless. I shall -hang the easier if you promise that he will be spared.” - -“Champe will be sent to the fleet to-night to rejoin his legion: I’ll -see it done, myself,” was Castner’s promise, and that promise, which -was carried out some hours later, did, indeed save Champe from the -hangman’s halter, though it sent him with Arnold’s legion to the -Virginia ravaging and was, besides, the father to all of the poor -sergeant’s wanderings and perils through the weary weeks and months -which were to intervene before he could make good his escape and rejoin -our army, a ragged, half-starved fugitive, in far-away Georgia. - - - - -XXII - -IN THE POWDER-ROOM - - -WHEN Castner turned me over to the guard I was taken to a high-arched, -brick-walled chamber buried in the battlements of the fort beyond the -barracks. By its location I took the cell to be the powder-room of -the old Dutch fortress antedating Fort George by a century or more; -guessing at this because the place was too spacious to figure as a -dungeon, and much too gloomy to be put to any other use. - -By all the obligations of a decent upbringing at the hands of godly -parents, I suppose I should have gone down on my two knees to spend the -few hours that were left in making my peace with God. Certain it is -that there were sins enough to be repented of, though I hope and trust -they were chiefly soldier sins, and not the kind that make a sniveling -craven of the sinner at the last. As to this, however, these death-hour -penitences have always seemed to me to be a rather pitiful and unworthy -begging of the Great Question; and, besides, hope dies hard in vigorous -youth, especially when it is fed by anxiety for the unknown fate of a -loved one. - -So, when I heard the big key grate in the lock at the outgoing of -Corporal Warnock, my jailer, I took the candle which Warnock’s, or -Castner’s, kindness allowed me, and began a searching review of my -dungeon. - -From the furnishings, a blanketed bunk-bed in one corner, a small -table untidy with candle drippings, and a heavy three-legged stool, I -judged that the place had been lately used by the British occupiers -as a guard-room for the detention of petty military offenders. Beyond -this there was little to be remarked save that the bricks in the walls -were old and crumbling, that the arch of the ceiling had fallen out in -several places to litter the earthen floor with débris, and that the -door was strong and new and solid enough to stop a battering-ram. - -After a careful scrutiny of the door and its massive lock there seemed -to be little left for hope to build upon. Having been designed for a -magazine, the brick-lined cavern had no window or other outlet; as, -indeed, it could not well have, being sunk in the earthwork. Hence, -a second tour of the place, in which I made use of the heavy little -stool to sound the walls, promised nothing, you would say. Yet to this -seemingly fruitless proceeding hope owed the fresh lease of life which -was to carry it in some fashion over the high crisis of despair. - -It was in that end of the oblong cell directly opposite the door -that I came upon a section of the wall which seemed to give back a -hint of hollowness to judicious thumpings with the stool. This set -me to examining that part of the brickwork with greater care. In -this area the bricks were newer, and by passing the candle back and -forth I found the reason for the fresher brickwork. A low doorway in -the original wall had been filled up and its outlines were plainly -traceable. - -On my knees before this bricked-up door I sought to recall all I had -ever heard of the earlier fortalice--the old Fort Amsterdam of the -Dutch. Somewhere, in some Dutch settler’s house on the upper Hudson, I -had once seen a sketch plan of Fort Amsterdam; in that plan there were -outworks shown beyond the walls, though they were not so extensive as -those constructed later by the British rebuilders. Had the Dutchmen -used this tunnel passage to supply their outer works with ammunition? -It seemed altogether logical and reasonable to assume that they had. - -Having reasoned thus far, the next step was clearly obvious. Beyond -the bricked-up door there would be a passage leading to what was now -the southeastern ravelin. True, the passage might have been filled up -when the doorway was stopped; but the hollow sound given back by the -newer wall encouraged the more hopeful conclusion. Taking the existence -of the passage for granted, the next thing in order was--or should -have been--a tool to dig with. But a cat with clipped claws could -scarcely have been more helpless in this respect than I was. The most -painstaking search of the littered floor revealed nothing in the way of -a bit of metal that would scratch the mortar of the joints in the later -masonry, much less a practicable digging tool. - -I was sitting on the edge of the bunk-bed with my chin in my hand -and fairly at the end of any fruitful invention, when there came -muffled sounds beyond the door to warn me of an approaching intrusion. -Presently the key squeaked in the rusty lock and the door swung open to -admit a visitor. By the light of the one poor guttering candle on the -table I did not make him out at first, though I supposed, of course, -it would be Castner. But when I looked again I found myself staring in -astonishment into the gloomy eyes of Benedict Arnold. I knew what he -had come for, or thought I did; and once more I strung myself up to the -task of deceiving him yet further--for John Champe’s sake. - -“So,” he said, and his voice was so low that it was almost gentle; “the -long road of equivocation has found its fatal turn at the last, has it, -Captain Page?” - -I thought he had come to gloat over me, as would have been most -natural, but never was a prefiguring worse mistaken. Coming closer -until I could almost feel the auger-boring of the moody eyes, he went -on in the same low monotone. - -“You doubtless think that you, of all living men, are the most to be -pitied, Captain. You are young; you have scarcely tasted of life; you -have been permitted to look into the eyes of love with the good hope -that in the days to come there would be happy fruition; you have an -honorable name and forebears to whom your children might look back with -honest pride; and in a few short hours all this will be blotted out for -you forever. Tell me, sir; was it worth this stupendous sacrifice--the -bare chance of taking a broken, disappointed fellow-man back to die -this same death which is now confronting you?” - -I saw now that he was not meaning to rejoice in my downfall, and I took -time for my answer. - -“A good soldier should not measure the weight of sacrifice in a -question of duty.” - -His hands went apart in a sudden gesture of impatience. - -“What is duty? A man, by some blunderings of chance or perhaps by his -own crafty chicanery, becomes your superior officer. Are you to lay -aside all your convictions of justice and mercy and common manly honor -merely because he holds up before you a fetish of soldierly obedience? -Remember, he is but a man, as you are. Stripped of his rank and all the -artificial contrivances which have made him for the moment figure as -your superior, he becomes only a fellow human being, standing high or -low in your estimation only as his heart is sound or depraved.” - -“Pardon me, Mr. Arnold,” I put in; “pardon me if I say that you are -beclouding the issue. The matter of duty, as I have conceived it, does -not rest upon the question of obedience to a ranking superior. It has -a better foundation in the love of country. I will be very plain with -you. It seemed to me to be for the best good of my poor distracted -country that you should be made to go back and pay the penalty for -the blow you have struck it. Acting upon that conviction, I came -here--voluntarily, you must understand, and not upon the command of any -superior whomsoever.” - -He took another step forward and laid a hand on my shoulder. - -“You did this from your own conception of your duty, and yet when the -chance came you spared me. Captain Page. Why did you change your mind? -Was it because you found me something less than the despicable piece of -gallows-meat you had been told I was?” - -I could not tell if this were merely the undying vanity of the man -fishing for compliments on the edge of the grave, or some better -prompting; but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. - -“I found you as I expected to find you, a most misguided man, as I -still hold you to be; but yet a man, and neither greatly better nor -worse than others, Mr. Arnold. The discovery that I made--or rather -that was made for me--was in myself.” - -“Ah? And that was--?” - -“It was the discovery that there are lengths to which a man and a -gentleman may not go, even to compass the greatest apparent benefit to -his fellow-men and his country. You put it within the truth when you -say that I spared you. At this very moment, had I willed it so, you -might be lying bound and gagged in the bottom of a rowboat and well -on your way to the camp at Tappan. I have told you the simple truth, -Mr. Arnold; I assumed the task of kidnapping you voluntarily, and -voluntarily I relinquished it.” - -“I know,” he rejoined abruptly, and then he turned from me and began to -pace the floor as if in a repressed passion. After a time he broke out -bitterly. - -“Like others, you know nothing of the conditions. You saw only a man -turning his back upon a cause to which he had given as much or more -than any, and straightway you set him down as the basest traitor, -measuring the depth of his depravity, it may be, by that very standard -of loyal service which he himself had set. What can you know of the -slights and evasions, the refusal to recognize just claims, the spite -and envy of those who drag others down so that they themselves may -climb the higher?” Then, stopping suddenly to face me: “Captain Page, -they even put a cloud upon my honesty in money matters!” - -Now I had heard that there had been charges of irregularity in his -official reports; it was common talk in the army, though I think none -went so far as to charge dishonesty. His repute had been that of a -high-stomached officer who could as little bear criticism as he could -a rebuff to his ambition. But I said nothing. I could do no less than -pity a man who felt that he must come and try to justify himself to a -condemned spy whose confessed object was, or had been, a most deadly -one. But he fell to pacing again without waiting for my reply. - -“You did not believe that scandal about the regimental accounts, -Captain Page?” he said, after another pause. - -“No; I did not believe it, and I think there are few in our army who -do. But that is nothing, Mr. Arnold; you are well hated for a much -greater thing.” - -“What is done, is done,” he broke in moodily. “I did not come here to -argue with you, Captain; I came to ask what I may do to make your fate -more easily met. Your life I can not save; that matter has gone beyond -me now, however much I might wish to intervene. But any last request -you may have to make--” - -There were two, and on one of them, the safe departure of Beatrix, my -lips were sealed. But of the other I spoke freely. - -“You have not mentioned Sergeant Champe in all this, and I would not -have my sins charged to his score,” I began: “I do not know how much or -how little you are involving him--” - -He interrupted with gesture expressive of complete understanding and -appreciation. - -“Champe is but a common soldier, and a most fanatical patriot, like -yourself, Captain Page. I have known this last, or suspected it, from -the beginning. There will be no punishment for him greater than that -which will be the greatest for a man of his stamp--to be obliged upon -a warrant of life or death to make good his lately sworn oath of -allegiance in battle. He rejoins the legion to-night, and when the -fleet sails he will go with it, to live or die as he fights or refuses -to fight.” - -I stood up, hoping he would take it as a hint that I desired to be -alone. - -“There is nothing more, then, I believe,” I said. “Due report of this -night’s doings will be sent to Colonel Baylor, I trust; and I shall -be glad if the charge against me shall stand without reference to my -self-appointed errand. I ask this as much for your sake as for my -own, Mr. Arnold. Others might not understand why I found my mission -impossible at its final turning point.” - -“You mean that the report shall go out that you were executed merely as -a spy caught within the enemy’s lines?” - -“That was my meaning; yes.” - -In a flash he held out his hand, and I forgot that he was a traitor to -the cause I loved and grasped it heartily. - -“You are a man in all your inches, Captain Page,” he declared warmly; -and then: “I would to God I could do you a real service, sir! You think -there will be only one woman to be broken-hearted, but I assure you -there will be two. I shall ill know how to face the second one when I -have to tell her that you spared me of your own free will, and that yet -you had to die!” - -“Let your gratitude to the other woman nerve you to that task, Mr. -Arnold,” I put in quietly. “It was Mistress Beatrix Leigh who showed me -my duty to her--and to myself.” - -“Ah, these women!” he said gently. “A man never sees himself as he -ought to be until he looks into the crystal mirror of a good woman’s -soul. You are prodigiously to be pitied, Captain Page--but not more -than you are to be envied. A little respite--time granted you for a -meeting and a parting with this young woman who hates me well but hates -dishonor more--possibly my word to Sir Henry Clinton would run thus -far. Shall I try it, sir?” - -I shook my head and said, no. Apart from the added agony of such a -meeting and parting, I hoped against hope that the good fates and -Captain Elijah Sprigg had already made it impossible by putting -Beatrix safely a-sea, though I feared the New Englander might wait to -get word of me first. - -“Then I can only bid you farewell, Captain, and wish with all my heart -that I might put a sword in your hand and tell you to fight your way to -death like a soldier!” - -With that he gripped my hand again and went quickly to the door; and -I think Warnock or another must have been waiting for him, for when I -looked again the door had opened and closed, and I was alone. - -Call it a weakness if you will, but after he was gone I wasted some -precious minutes sitting on the bunk-bed with my head in my hands -and my heart mellowing in a sudden rush of meliorating softness. It -is so easy to fall into the rut of the harsh rigidities, judging all -humankind by unbending formulas of right and wrong and making no -allowances for the thousand and one battling influences which are -always dragging the human atom hither and yon. This man whose name had -become a hissing and a reproach was neither an angel nor a devil; he -was merely a human being, swayed now by the good and now by the evil. -If he had shown himself capable of the basest political treachery, he -here and now had also shown that he could be magnanimous and truly -generous to a fallen enemy. - -It was another key-grating in the door-lock that roused me from the -softening reverie and I sprang up, shocked for an instant by the -thought that I had spent all my little respite and that midnight -was come. That shock was followed by another when the door opened -and Champe, with a face so haggard and wrought upon that I scarcely -recognized him, came stumbling in to fall upon his knees at my feet. - -“Champe!” I cried, thinking nothing but that they had sifted the truth -out of him in some way, and that he was to die with me. - -“Aye,” he mumbled, “I’ve come, Captain Dick. Strangle me with your bare -hands--burn my eyes out with the candle--do what you will to me and -I’ll never cheep nor whimper nor lift a finger. They’ve told me what -you did; how you stood up and took it all upon yourself, after I had -gone crazed with rage and disappointment and betrayed you like another -Judas! Let me hang in your place; or if I can not, I’ll hang with -you--I swear it!” - -“Hush!” I commanded harshly, for I could not trust myself to speak -otherwise. And then: “You need not reproach yourself. They would have -caught me anyway before the night was over, and there is no sense in -two hanging where one will serve. But tell me: how did you get here?” - -“Warnock is corporal of the guard, and one night I saved him from -being found asleep at sentry post. He told me what you said to General -Phillips; how you--” his voice broke and again I had to be rough with -him to save my own self-possession. - -“Name of the devil!” I cut in snappishly. “Dry your eyes, Sergeant, and -take the crack out of your voice. You are the man of all others who can -do me a service, and here you come to me whimpering and crying like a -whipped dog!” - -“Say it, Captain Dick,” he pleaded. “Give me my orders, and I’ll--” - -“--And you’ll carry them out: of course, you will,” I finished for him. -“Now listen, and I’ll tell you what you are to do.” - -A plan had been shaping itself with lightning-like swiftness in my -brain since he had told me enough to make it plain that he was still -free to go and come in the town; that he had not yet been put under -guard to be sent to the ships, as Arnold had said he would be. - -First I plied him with questions which he answered with rare -intelligence, giving me the exact location of the powder-room prison -cell in relation to its surroundings, and telling me what lay beyond -the fortress walls behind it--a ravelin, a ditch, outworks, and then -the beach. Then I gave him his instructions. - -“You remember the sea-captain who sent you to fetch me to the tavern?” - -Champe nodded. - -“He is with us, though he claims to be a neutral and is allowed to go -and come as a trader, under some surveillance. His schooner lies in -the East River, ready to put to sea, if it has not already sailed. -Your task is to find the ship and the man, if they are within finding -distance. Tell the captain what has befallen me, and you may add that -I’m going to try to break jail. If I succeed, a few stout friends, to -be waiting on the beach at the southeastern angle of the fort at half -an hour before midnight, might turn the scale for me.” - -“I’ll find him if I have to go to hell to make the search a thorough -one. But what hope have you of breaking out of this, Captain Dick?” - -I dragged him across the room and showed him the outlined door in the -earthward wall. - -“You are to smuggle me something to dig with,” I told him, and -instantly he searched in his pockets and found a huge clasp-knife. - -“Will that do, think you?” he asked. - -“I’ll make it do for the brickwork, though, the good Lord knows, I may -need a pick and shovel for anything this bricked-up door tells me of -what is beyond it. But never mind; go you and do your part, Sergeant. -And one other thing: Captain Sprigg has either gone to sea, or is about -to go, as I have told you, and his errand is to convey two women home -to Virginia. One of those women is my cousin, and the other--” - -“The other will be somewhat more than a cousin, if you live to get free -of this: I take you, Captain.” - -“Good. Then you will see to it yourself that whatever may be done -toward helping me, there must be a sufficient guard left to protect the -women. That is all, I believe, though I would give much for a weapon of -some sort bigger than this pocket-knife to even me with those who will -seek to stop me after I burrow out.” - -At that Champe unbuttoned his great watchcoat and showed me my good -Scots rapier hanging by a thong around his neck; and I could have -shouted for joy. - -“Where did you find it?--and how could you pass the guard with it?” I -demanded. - -“I found it in the barracks, where one of Warnock’s men had flung it -aside,” he explained. “I thought first to bring your own horse-saber, -which I was wearing, but Warnock made me put it away before he would -let me see you. I did put it away, but I hid this other in my coat at -the same time.” - -With midnight coming nearer at every breath we drew, I gave Champe his -final word. - -“Do your errand quickly, Sergeant,” I adjured him. “On two counts you -have little time to spare: Sprigg’s vessel, if it be not already gone, -will be ready to go at any minute; and after all you may be too late. -The other count is your own. You will be ordered to rejoin the legion -before the night is out; I have Arnold’s own word for that.” - -“They’ll not take me down the bay alive before my errand is done; I -promise you that, Captain Dick.” - -While he was hammering at the door for Warnock to come and let him out, -I hid the rapier in the blankets of the bed; and no sooner was the door -opened for Champe, and closed behind him with the bolt shot, than I -fell to work with the great clasp-knife, digging as for dear life. - -It took no little time to loosen the first brick, toil as I would, -and when it was withdrawn, the thrust-in candle showed nothing but -a shallow, earth-smelling burrow behind the wall, with its farther -extremity stopped up by a stout wooden boarding. - -This was sufficiently discouraging, since it indicated that the old -sally-port through the powder-room to the outworks had been sealed up -at both ends. How thick the outer barrier might be, I had no means of -determining; and before I could remove any more bricks, I heard the -key rattling in the lock again, and there was barely time to stand the -clumsy little table before the tell-tale breach beginnings, to kick -the floor rubbish over the mortar powderings that whitened it, and to -slip the clasp-knife into my pocket, when the bolt was shot and Castner -marched in. - -Now was the time when it took the final ounce of fortitude in the -good old Page reserves to make me face him and say carelessly, “Is it -midnight, at last, Lieutenant? By all the hours that ever struck, I -thought it would never come!” For, truly, and for the second time that -night, I made sure that my short respite had slipped away unheeded, and -that he had come for me. - -“No, Captain Page,” he rejoined soberly; “it wants two good hours of -midnight yet, and I’ve come on a different errand. You have spoken -twice in my hearing of a postponed engagement with your--with this -Captain Seytoun who has come so far out of his way to do you an ill -turn: are you still wishing it might be kept?” - -I made my laugh sound as lightly as it should have sounded if the -meeting with my cousin Devlin’s slayer were the last unfulfilled desire -of a man who was about to die. - -“You saw how hard I tried to make him wish it. My dear Castner, he is -little better than a brute beast. I doubt if the rope stout enough to -drag him to a fair field of honor has ever been twisted.” - -The lieutenant’s eyes were fixed upon one of the holes in the ceiling -masonry. - -“It would be little loss to the reb--to the American cause if he should -never return to Tappan?” he suggested. - -“It would be small loss, as you say. Though you will not look at it -in that light, the man is a traitor at heart; a man who, to satisfy a -purely personal grudge, does not scruple to betray his trust, his cause -and his commanders.” - -Castner looked me full in the eyes. - -“He hates you well, Captain Page. I had no thought save to have James -Askew’s story confirmed by some one in authority. I was astounded when -the spy told me that, upon a few hours’ notice, an officer of Major -Lee’s Legion would meet us at a certain spot on the Tarrytown road -and confirm his information word for word. We rode out to the Neutral -Ground to the place indicated by Askew, and there we met this precious -troop-captain. He not only did all that Askew had promised for him; he -was anxious to come and testify in person. I had little choice but to -give him the safe-conduct necessary.” - -“No, no,” I hastened to say. “I’m never blaming you, my dear -Lieutenant. Don’t think it for a moment.” - -“Thank you,” he returned. “Duty is a hard schoolmaster at times; never -harder for me than in the present instance, Captain Page. But to return -to this poltroon captain of horse; I am beginning to suspect that he -had another object in asking for his safe-conduct, eager as he is to -see you effaced. He has been making inquiries of me about a lady.” - -“Ah?” said I; and then: “I’ll name her for you--Mistress Beatrix Leigh, -of Virginia?” - -“The same. She is here on some business for her Virginia estates--a -tobacco cargo that fell into the hands of our Philistines. Some -influence has been brought to bear upon Sir Henry Clinton to make him -wink at the blockade-running of this confiscated cargo, provided it can -be done without bringing it to public notice. Seytoun tells me of this, -lodges an information against one Elijah Sprigg, captain of Mistress -Leigh’s ship, and urges me to lay the affair by the heels.” - -“You mean to do it, Lieutenant Castner?” I demanded angrily. - -“Not upon that cur’s prompting, you may be sure,” was the hearty -rejoinder. “But this is all far beside the mark. One other request -Seytoun makes of me, and that is that he be permitted to see you, -alone, before you--before your--” - -“Before my hanging, you would say; don’t boggle at so harmless a little -word, my good friend: I don’t. You’ll let him come?” - -“That rests with you,” he announced quietly. “Do you still wish to keep -your--that broken engagement with him?” - -I fear my smile at this was cynical. - -“You needn’t approach it so cautiously, Lieutenant. He merely wishes -to come and triumph over a fallen enemy. I know him. I’m beginning to -think there is no fight in him.” - -“By heavens! I’d make him fight!” burst out my quiet lieutenant, in a -most unprecedented upflash of rage. “See here, Captain Page; by all the -gods, I’m going to take the chance of having my commission canceled, -and send him to you! Here is my sword”--he drew it and flung it upon -the bed. “You’ll promise me that you will not use it in a way to make -me sorry that I trusted you?” - -“Most willingly,” I replied, smiling at his sudden ardor, and added: -“But he won’t fight, Mr. Castner.” - -“Then kill him!” he snapped vindictively; and turned to kick hotly at -the door for the guard to come and let him out. - -Not to lose any of the precious minutes I fell into furious labor on -the hole in the wall as soon as the door clanged behind Castner. When -at length the aperture was large enough to let me squeeze through, -nothing was revealed save the crumbling sides of a damp earth-tunnel, -with the wooden bulkhead stopping its farther end. - -I did not dare to creep into the tunnel for a better investigation of -the _cul de sac_. If Seytoun had not changed his mind, he might be -admitted at any moment, and remembering this, I hastily replaced the -loosened bricks, and moved the table, with the candle on it, against -the wall. Happily, I had made the breach so low that the table hid it; -which was more by hit than good wit, since I had not thought of having -to conceal it. - -These preparations were barely completed when the door-bolt clicked, -and my enemy was come. Between the bolt shooting and the swinging of -the door, I had time to drop down upon the edge of the bunk-bed, and to -put my face in my hands; so Seytoun found me as I wished he should find -me--in an attitude of the deepest dejection. - -He took instant advantage of it, as I made sure he would, laughing -harshly and slapping his leg, and saying it was as good as a comedy -to see me sniveling like a whipped schoolboy because, forsooth, I was -going to be choked presently with a bit of cord! - -At first I took no notice of him, wishing to see him climb the ladder -of triumph so high that the fall, when it should come, would jar his -teeth loose. He climbed fast enough, in all conscience, pouring out the -most obscene imprecations upon me, telling me how he should live to -see me dancing upon nothing; how he would marry Beatrix now in spite -of hell and all the base-born, light-mothered Pages that ever mewled -in their nurses’ arms; how, in one stroke, he would be avenged for all -that I had ever done to him. - -When he had run the full gamut of abuse, and was fairly at a stand for -fresh epithets, I took him up, not angrily, for, strange as it may -seem, I could not for the life of me stir the hot rage that had twice -or thrice made me so eager to kill him. - -“You say I am a coward, Seytoun, and that is a harsh word to fling at -a dying man. What have I ever done to you, more than to post you in -the tidewater country for killing my cousin Devlin Page over a game -of cards without giving the poor lad a tenth of a chance to defend -himself?” I asked. - -“You posted me, and you have struck me twice without giving me a chance -to kill you!” he raged. “On top of that you have eaten insults that -would have made a horse-boy fight!” - -“Um,” said I. “If I have eaten at your table, I have also made you -eat at mine. And I had a much better cause than you, Wolf Seytoun,” -I added, giving him the name he went by in Virginia. “The woman who -loves me, and who will loathe and despise you to her dying day for -this night’s work, begged me to spare you--for the sake of our common -country--and I gave her my promise.” - -“By heaven!” he shouted, “you’ll taunt me with that? I tell you, -Beatrix Leigh will--” - -“Hold on,” I warned, raising a hand in deprecation. “That makes twice -you have used her name to me within five minutes. Don’t do it again!” - -“What’s to stop me if I name her a hundred million times?” he bellowed. - -“This,” I said, taking up the sword that Castner had flung upon the -bed. And still I was not angry. - -His first act was the craven cur’s: a swift glance over his shoulder to -see if haply the door had been left ajar to let him run; his next was -the trapped wolf’s: a whipping-out of his saber, and a lightning-like -launching of his great body in a rush that was meant to slay me before -I could get upon my feet. - -The attack failed only because I was fully expecting it; but the -warding of the murderous saber cut snapped my borrowed weapon short -off at the hilt. It was here that John Champe’s devotion surely saved -my life. But for his smuggling of the Scots rapier under his coat, I -should have been left unarmed and helpless, and Seytoun would certainly -have slain me like a dog. - -But the rapier was at hand, and I made shift to snatch it out of its -hiding-place beneath the blankets, to spring aside from the second -saber sweep, and to face my antagonist in some equality. - -Then began a battle the like of which I hope never to have part in -again. Seytoun’s face was the face of a demoniac, and he fought with -the coward’s courage, the frenzy of a madman. For a time I could do -nothing but strive to keep out of his way, and never before had I been -made to feel the bitter inadequacy of the lighter weapon when opposed -to the heavier troop saber. I dared not try to parry his sweeping -slashes, and my only hope lay in winding him. - -This result came in time, helped on by his reckless wasting of his -strength, and by the heavy coat he was wearing. Then it was my turn, -and I began to press him slowly backward, changing my defense into an -attack, and crowding him to make good before he should recover and -catch his second wind. Round and round the narrow cell we went, and -still the heavy saber rose and fell, and the slender rapier darted in -and out, and never a drop of blood was drawn. - -“End it!” I cried; “why don’t you end it, you brute beast?” - -He took me at my word, or tried to. In a fierce rush he backed me all -across the room, and when he had me in a corner, stooped, caught up the -heavy stool in his left hand and hurled it at my head. It was a base -advantage to take of a lighter-armed antagonist, but I forgave him. For -at the instant of missile-hurling I found my opening, and the rapier -flashed in over the momentarily neglected guard; darted in and found -its mark and pierced it. - -I did not thrust a second time; did not need to. While the clock could -tick twice, he stood looking at me with a sort of shocked wonder in -his bloodshot eyes. Then he turned away slowly, and fell face downward -across the bunk-bed, and I think he never stirred afterward. - - - - -XXIII - -OPEN FIELD AND RUNNING FLOOD - - -I CONFESS, with some prickings of remorse, that I did not stay to help -Seytoun live or die. Fiercely swift as the fight had been, it had cut -deeply into the little time I could count on, and no sooner was it -ended than I was down on my knees under the table, and burrowing out -through the breach in the wall. - -Once in the earth kennel, with the candle, and my sword and the -clasp-knife, I replaced the bricks hurriedly in the breach and began -to sound the wooden bulkhead. To my dismay, it seemed as solid as the -earth itself, and I saw nothing for it but to try to dig a passage -around it. This might well be the work of hours; but after the moment -of despair it gave me, I fell upon the task furiously, digging with the -knife, with my hands, and at last with the rapier, boring it around to -cut out futile little cones of the crumbling clay. - -I was stabbing thus feverishly at the stubborn earth bank, and -accomplishing little, as I thought, when sounds in the powder-room -behind me made me stop and listen. I heard the door clang back against -the wall; heard footsteps and voices, and then the shout of surprise -when they found Seytoun. I did not need to look at my watch to see the -time: it was midnight and my gallows guard was come for me. - -I think it must have been my good angel whispering at my ear--the -prompting to make a last despairing push with the thin-bladed sword in -the clay at the back of the shallow excavation. To my joy the steel -went through, and by wriggling it about I quickly had a hole through -which the keen salt air of the December night poured to refresh me. - -Luckily, I was still cool enough and sane enough to be certain that I -should never have time to enlarge the hole so that it would serve to -let me out. I knew it must be only a matter of seconds until those in -the powder-room would find the breach in the wall, and I should be like -a trapped rat. But now my brain was working swiftly and clearly. The -wooden bulkhead stopping the passage was merely covered with a bank of -earth in the ravelin ditch to conceal it. Would my strength suffice to -overturn it? - -Dropping the sword, I put my shoulder to the bulkhead and heaved. It -gave--sprung outward at the top and let a little rain of loosened dirt -trickle down upon my head. Again I heaved, lifting until the veins in -my forehead seemed about to burst; and I could hear the men in the -powder-room dragging the table aside, and pulling the loose bricks out -of the breach. Another moment, and-- - -But that moment was mine. With the final heave the bulwark tilted -outward and fell into the outworks ravelin with a smothered crash, -carrying me with it. There was a shout from behind to follow me out, -and a sentry, pacing his beat on the breast-high banquette beyond the -ravelin, stopped, gave a great cry as if he had seen a ghost, and let -his musket off. - -At the musket-fire and the shouts of those who were wriggling through -the breach in the wall of the powder-room, there was a rush of the -outworks sentinels from both directions. Seeing at once that my only -way lay straight before me, I leaped afoot, dragged the dazed gun-firer -from the banquette by his legs, and, with another bound, went over the -breast-height and tumbled into the moat. - -Here the palisade, a closely set fence of upright stakes driven into -the ditch-bottom, balked me, but only until I could spring and reach -the top and clamber up. It was here that I nearly got my quittance. If -I should drop into the V-shaped ditch beyond the palisade, there was an -even chance that I should not be able to climb out to the top of the -abattis breast beyond. But if I could balance on the stakes for the -single instant necessary, the gulf could be leaped. I drew myself up, -balancing precariously on the stake tops; there was a roar of musketry -behind me, a sharp twinge in my right shoulder, and I hurled myself -outward into space. - -I remember vaguely the fall among the sharpened tree-branch spines of -the abattis, and, more dimly still, a frenzied effort to roll out of -the tangle toward the edge of the sea-slope. After this I knew nothing -till I came back to life at the bidding of a tossing and wrenching that -seemed to be tearing me limb from limb. - -The figure was no figure, as I soon discovered. I was in the thick of -a group of men who were running swiftly along the beach, four of them -carrying me. Somewhere in the background of the night, other men were -running, and now and then muskets barked and there came a whining of -bullets overhead. - -While I was yet no more than half at myself, a voice I should recognize -anywhere gasped a question. - -“How much farther, Captain Sprigg?” the voice said; and I reached out -and laid my hand on the arm of the big fellow running with my bearers. - -“Jack!” I shouted feebly. - -“The same, Dickie-lad,” he panted back. And then: “Hold the life in you -by main strength, Dick; get a tail-twist on it and hang to it! Beatrix -and Aunt Ju are waiting for us in the boats!” And again to Sprigg: “How -much farther, in God’s name, Captain?” - -It was no farther, as it chanced. At Pettus’s eager repetition of his -anxious question, the running group swerved sharply to the waterside, -and my bearers plunged thigh-deep into the icy water and lifted me -gently over the side of a small boat; over the side and into the -keeping of a pair of loving arms that clasped themselves quickly about -me. - -“Beatrix!” I cried in utter weakness; and then I felt her tears drop -like warm rain on my face, and heard sounds as of a hand-to-hand -struggle on the beach, in the midst of which our smaller boat put off -and was pulled swiftly to the side of a schooner lying out of musket -range from the shore. - -Here again, helping hands were ready to lift me to the deck, where a -spare sail was quickly folded to make a bed for me under the lee of the -high bulwarks, and a ship’s lantern was brought, and loving womanly -hands, four of them now, began to search anxiously for my wound. - -In the thick of it I heard the other boat come bumping against the side -of the ship, and the men, a half-dozen or more of them, trooped aboard, -bringing a prisoner. Following quickly there was a medley of shouted -sailor orders in the harsh nasal twang of Elijah Sprigg’s best voice; -and then Jack came to kneel beside me, beseeching Beatrix to tell him I -was not dead. - -The white canvas was snapping and crackling overhead, and the _Nancy -Jane_ was heeling to the fair half-gale and racing down the harbor, -before they would let me speak; and then all I could say was “Tell -me--tell me.” - -And they told me, Beatrix and Jack, with Cousin Ju to stroke my -forehead and to break in with tearful self-reproachings for the -tongue-lashing she had given me in Mr. Vandeventer’s parlor: told -me how Jack had got Major Lee’s leave to follow Seytoun to the -meeting-place on the Tarrytown road with Askew and Castner; how he had -overheard enough to make him disguise himself as a farmer, and dog the -three back to New York; how he had accidentally stumbled upon Sprigg -and the women as they were making their way to the waterside, and so -had been present when Champe brought the news of me. - -“But--but how did you come to be so late in starting?” I said, holding -my loved one close with the arm they had not bandaged. - -“It was God’s Providence, no less, in a thing we took for the greatest -disaster that could befall,” said Beatrix gently, taking up the -narrative where Jack broke off. “Major Simcoe returned with his troop, -and the twenty men of the _Nancy Jane’s_ allotment were sent down to -embark. Captain Sprigg claimed to have only the little boat, and he -fetched the troopers aboard two or three at a time, and the sailors -made prisoners of them, putting them in the hold as fast as they came -over the side. All this took so much time that the captain was but just -bringing us to the shore when Sergeant Champe came with your message.” - -“Lord, lord!” cried I, laughing weakly. “And you’ve got twenty men of -the Queen’s Rangers in the hold?” - -“Twenty men _and_ the tobacco,” Jack boasted; adding: “and one other -fine young fellow--an officer, who was so forward in his pursuit of you -that he got tangled up in a hand-to-hand mellay with the long-boat’s -crew and we brought him off with us. He says his name is Castner, and -he was most anxious to inquire about you, when I told him you were -winged.” - -Again I laughed, as I should have laughed with my last breath, I think. - -“Castner--_Castner_ a prisoner? Treat him well, I do beseech you,” I -begged. “He is my friend and one of God’s own gentlemen. But you tell -me nothing of Champe.” - -“Because there is nothing to tell,” said Pettus sorrowfully. “He -went back to the fort to try to get word to you; to tell you that if -you failed to dig out, we meant to fall upon your gallows guard for -a rescue when they brought you out. They will hang poor Champe, I’m -thinking.” - -“No,” said I, “they will not hang him. But he may wish they had before -he ever hears the old troop call again, Jack,” and I was far indeed -from knowing at the moment how true a prophecy I was making. - -At this Pettus stood up, and looking back over the schooner’s -foaming wake told us how they were displaying signal lanterns on the -battlements of Fort George, and how a Bengal light was burning on a -ship near the shore to show the sailors heaving up the anchor and -making ready to chase us. - -“But they’ll never catch us, dear heart!” said my loved one bravely, -and again her arms went about my neck. - -And so they did not; though to tell of how we ran the gauntlet of the -fleet in the lower bay, and of what befell us and our one-and-twenty -British captives on a voyage that ended far enough from the Capes of -Virginia, would take a livelier pen than mine. For this, as you will -see, is but a tale of a few landward days, while that other is of storm -and shipwreck, of perilous weeks and weary months, before we saw the -tidewater homeland again. - -So, then, with the _Nancy Jane_ dancing down the harbor with a bone -in her teeth and her canvas straining to the gale; with Cousin Ju -beginning to feel the coming sickness and begging Jade to take her to -the cabin; and with my dear heart whispering to me between her kisses -to know if my shoulder pain was more than I could bear, this pen need -add no more to a tale which, brief as its measuring was in days and -hours, has already grown over-long. - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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