HOW COLONEL RAHL PROPOSED GIVING A CHRISTMAS CONCERT
George learned that the Hawksworths, with whom Peggy was staying, were
an English family who owned vast acreages in the Jerseys; the head
of the house was the younger son of a duke, his wife the daughter
of a viscount; and their connections were extremely fashionable.
They resided in a fine brick mansion in the best section; and
because of their high estate and the fact that they quartered a
lieutenant-general, they had a brace of pigtailed Hessians constantly
on guard at their front door.
Once or twice, George’s affairs had taken him by the house, and he
found it quite as compelling as the one in Crown Street, New York. But
he never saw Peggy. As a matter of fact, he made no especial effort to
see her; he felt that he was upon urgent business for headquarters,
and that it was his place not to attract any more attention than was
necessary.
But now that Nat had safely carried their harvest of news across the
river, the boy considered himself more of a free agent than before; and
his own affairs came uppermost in his mind.
“Peggy Camp has held me up to contempt, insulted me to my face and even
tried to take my life,” he told himself. “And yet I want to see her.
I want to see her just once. I want to tell her how I regard her, and
then I want to see no more of her.”
But for a person dressed as he was to gain admittance to one under the
care of the aristocratic Hawksworths was clearly impossible; and so
he sought a tailor, a hair-dresser and a haberdasher; emerging from
their hands, he was spick and span and eligible for any company. And,
also, which came as an afterthought, he was open to detection. No doubt
there were numerous New York king’s men in Trenton upon various errands
connected with the service; and some of these who had seen him there
would know him for what he was.
“But I’ll take the chance,” he muttered; “nothing is gained except by
venturing. A bold manner will win me a way, perhaps, even if any one
should recall me.”
So he sought out an inn which was patronized by persons of quality, and
calmly installed himself therein; there were many officers of Rahl’s
brigade quartered there, but that made little difference; the nearer to
the danger mark at times, the safer one may feel.
The inn was directly across the way from Rahl’s headquarters; from his
windows the young New Englander could see the sentries pacing up and
down; the half circle of cannon grinned grimly down each street that
led thereto.
George had not been a guest at the inn more than a day or two when he
noticed that the sound of music was almost constant at headquarters.
The landlord, a Tory, made a wry face when George mentioned the matter.
“Rahl is a madman for melody,” said he. “No matter what else is toward,
his concerts must not be interfered with; he’ll sit for hours before
the fire, beating time with his fingers. The best fed men in his army
are the musicians. As for me, I wish they’d choke themselves with their
own bugles and fifes; one can’t get a wink of sleep at times for their
blowing and braying.”
It wanted only a little time now until Christmas. This has always been
a festival greatly in favor with the Germans. The plundered countryside
suffered more than ever; the mercenaries made a clean sweep of what was
left; nothing escaped them; sleigh train after sleigh train entered
Trenton from all directions; herd after herd of sheep, swine and beef
were driven over the snowy roads.
And the more deeply engaged the Hessians became in these preparations
for the festival, the less attention they gave to duty. Neglect of even
the simplest military precautions became common; one unacquainted with
the real conditions would have said, upon observing their indifference,
that there was not an enemy within five hundred miles.
“If it were not for the river,” said George to himself time and again,
“Washington would need only make a swift dash and the town would be
his.”
But that even the ice-choked river had no terrors for the American
commander was soon made plain to the boy. He had just finished his
noonday meal and arisen to his feet when he heard a guarded voice say
in his ear:
“Guess you ain’t no friend to Mistah Brewstah?”
It was a black boy, woolly-headed and with solemn eyes.
“I am,” replied George, in the same low tone.
“Would you ’blige me wif you name, suh?” The black boy was caution
itself. George told him his name, and the solemn eyes gleamed with
satisfaction.
“Das it, sho’ ’nuff,” he said. Then lower still, “I got a lil’ bit o’
writin’ fo’ yo’, suh.”
A strip of paper was slipped into the young man’s hand. It read:
“Crossing Christmas night. Fire on hill back of where I left. Put out
at once--don’t cross. Allow to burn--all is well.”
A thrill ran through George’s body. At a glance its meaning was plain
to him.
“The army crosses the river on Christmas night,” he thought. “I am
to light a signal fire on the hill back of the spot where Nat left
me last. If I put the blaze out at once it will mean that I find it
dangerous for them to make the attempt. If I keep it burning, it will
mean that the time is ripe for the blow to be struck--that the Hessians
suspect nothing.”
For a moment he continued gazing at the paper, fascinated; then he
turned to the messenger.
“Who gave you this?”
“Mistah Brewstah, suh.”
“Where is he?”
“Was jes below de town, suh, a few hours ago. Reckon he’s gone now,
’cross de river.”
“Do you know what’s written on this paper?” keenly.
“’Deed no, suh. I can’t read writin’ no-how. It’s sumfin ’bout Gen’ul
Washington, though. Mistah Brewstah done told me that when he said I
was to be ca’ful and not let the British see it.”
“How did he come to give it to you?”
“I wu’ks for Mistah Spen’sah, outside town; Mistah Spen’sah is a
friend to Gen’ul Washington’s gen’l’men, an’ he done tol’ Mistah
Brewstah that he could done trust me. I’se pow’ful sot ’gainst dese
heah Hushians, I is.”
For some time after the lad had gone George stood immovable reading
the paper so that there could be no mistake as to its meaning. Then he
touched one end of it to the flames upon the broad hearth and watched
it blacken and curl. A door opened and the draught carried the charred
fragments up the wide chimney; George was still bending toward the fire
meditatively, when a harsh, high-pitched voice demanded:
“Where are my friends, sir? Come now, don’t keep me kicking my heels
and waiting.”
There was something familiar in the tones, and George lifted his head
and gazed at the speaker. The man was burly, red-faced and had small,
deeply-set eyes; and his manner, as he stood waiting for the landlord
to reply, was oddly like that of an ill-trained mastiff. It flashed
into the youth’s mind that he had seen this man somewhere before and
under conditions which had possessed interest. As George was measuring
him closely, the glance of the newcomer happened to rest upon him;
and into the small, deeply-set eyes there came a look as puzzled as
his own. For a moment they stood thus, gazing at each other; then the
landlord spoke:
“Your friends, sir,” he said, “are in the back parlor. They required
that you be shown in when you arrived.”
Several times after this George encountered the same person and each
time he fell to wondering who he was; and always did he see speculation
in the glances which the big man leveled at him.
On Christmas day the inn was all a-bustle with preparation. Colonel
Rahl had suddenly announced that he would hold a concert and
entertainment there; his own quarters were not large enough to house
the throng expected; and as the inn parlors were big and comfortable,
the landlord had been given notice to decorate them with greens and
candle-lights against the coming of the commander’s guests. The regular
lodgers at the tavern were greatly inconvenienced by the affair. The
kitchens were mainly given up to the cooking of Rahl’s dinner; and when
the patrons of the place did succeed in having a meal prepared, they
were forced to eat it in all sorts of out-of-the-way places in order
not to be in the way of those hanging the decorations.
So George found himself dining alone in a screened corner near to the
fire early that evening. A small dining party was placed, after a
little, upon the opposite side of the screen; George paid no attention
to them, being busy with his own thoughts.
In a little time the waiters had finished their hammering and hanging;
and the first voice that George caught from the party beyond the screen
was that of the burly man whom he thought he knew.
“And so,” this person was saying, with a great laugh, “she is coming
here to-night, is she?”
A smoother voice replied:
“Yes; she’s stopping with the Hawksworths, I understand. And they’ll be
sure to be here. They are great friends of Rahl’s, you see.”
When this last person began to speak, George started in astonishment.
It could not be! But as it went on he was convinced and dumbfounded.
The voice was that of Major Hyde. And, as though to assure the young
New Englander that he was not mistaken, Henderson, the dragoon officer,
now spoke.
“’Pon my word,” he laughed. “Rahl is a great fellow. He pulls the
string and they all dance like puppets.”
“Your uncle, Mr. Camp, will also be present, I suppose,” said the burly
man, apparently to Hyde.
“I think not,” answered the major. “He’s still brooding over the ashes
of his manor house, I believe; they can’t induce him to leave.”
“He would be a trifle astonished to see us here,” said the dragoon with
another laugh, in which the big man joined.
“And scarcely pleased, I fancy,” said Hyde.
“Not pleased!” There was incredulity in the other’s voice. “Not pleased
to know that you’ve really been a king’s man all along, and not a
rebel. Oh, come now.”
Hyde a king’s man! George’s knife fell with a clatter to the floor, so
great was his amazement.
“What I say is more likely than not to be a fact,” answered Hyde.
“Herbert, it seems, made no real interest with the old gentleman in
shifting his colors. I saw that long since. You see,” with a sneer in
his voice, “my worthy uncle is one of those who prefer what they call
principle to the gaining of victory.”
“Absurd!” growled the burly man. There was a pause, then he continued
in another tone: “But it seems to me that you have made your real
sympathies known too soon. The rebellion is not yet put down. If you
had remained with Washington’s army, you would have----”
“He would have graced the end of a rope,” said Henderson. “And I should
have borne him company.”
“Ah! They suspected you, then?”
“They were only waiting to make sure,” said Hyde. “I got wind of a
letter written by Tryon to Matthews in which I was referred to--not by
name, to be sure, but near enough to be dangerous. That told me that my
stay in the American lines was limited.”
“Tryon is an idiot,” commented the dragoon. “How a man can so trust
intimate matters to pen and ink is more than I can understand.”
“So!” was the thought of the listener. “Herbert Camp spoke the truth
then. Hyde was the nephew of whom Tryon wrote.”
“It was high time for us to go,” said Henderson. “I felt it in my
bones, days before the Long Island fight. That fellow Prentiss seemed
growing too keen to be comfortable.”
“Prentiss?” the big man repeated the name inquiringly.
“Yes; the messenger sent us from Boston.”
“Ah! that was his name, was it? Now, there was a confounded knave for
you. He was willing to sell us all out to Putnam, I’m told.”
“Yes. And he’d just as willingly sold out Putnam to us. It made little
difference to him.”
“It’s fortunate that we received word as to his true character when we
did,” said Henderson. “Otherwise he would have come to know every man
of us for what we really were.”
“You should have got rid of the scoundrel,” growled the burly man.
“There are more ways than one.”
“We tried several,” said Hyde. “Once we invited him to dinner to our
place in Wall Street. But he refused.”
A shudder ran through the listener. He had indeed been near to death on
that spring evening.
“Then Henderson had a shot at him later--in my uncle’s house on Crown
Street.”
“Henderson!” George almost cried this aloud, so great was his
astonishment.
“But I missed,” complained the dragoon. “You see, I couldn’t get a
proper bead on him. I was in a sort of closet behind one of Hyde’s
ancestor’s portraits, and was forced to shoot through a hole in one of
the eyes. And even though I missed, I almost lost my life for the shot.”
“How was that?”
“Who stood in the middle of the room when I tore out of the closet, but
Mistress Peggy Camp. Poof! What a tiger cat!” The burly man exclaimed
wonderingly.
“Peggy,” said Hyde, “has always been an eager little rebel. And
because I was such an ardent patriot,” laughingly, “I’ve always had her
respect.”
“You once counted upon having more than that, if I remember aright. You
wanted her as your wife when you thought she’d be made heiress to the
old man--vice Herbert, dismissed.”
“Well, Herbert’s sudden shift to the British side of the house spoiled
all that. So we’ll not discuss it.” Hyde’s voice was cold.
“And so Peggy flew at you for taking a shot at Prentiss, did she?” said
the burly man. “He’d fooled her into thinking him a staunch Whig, I
suppose.”
“On the contrary,” answered Henderson, “she was convinced that he was a
traitor to the American cause.”
“She fancied that I, the patriot officer, sought his life for that very
reason,” said Major Hyde. “That night in Crown Street, she saw me enter
the room where Henderson was already concealed behind the picture. At
first I thought she had been in the room when I entered, and was afraid
she knew Henderson’s purpose. But later, I was convinced that this was
not so.
“The rascal in the next room had been of service to her in some way.
She said she knew he was a traitor to her countrymen--she realized that
he was all that was bad. But, for all that, I must not harm him.”
“It was I, and not Herbert, for whom she pleaded,” was the listener’s
thought. “But, then, I heard Herbert’s name mentioned; I heard----”
“All the time,” laughed Hyde, “I knew that her brother was hiding in
the house. There were many arrests just then, and I suppose he feared
being taken. I promised Peggy that I’d say nothing of his presence; but
I warned her to beware of Prentiss.”
For the first time, George understood the conversation which had taken
place in the room next the tapestried chamber. They had spoken of him
at first; but later the talk had shifted to Herbert.
“Prentiss,” went on Major Hyde, “had filled her with fear, for all her
determination to save him. I told her that he was in the house for no
other purpose than the tracking of her brother. This I thought might
induce her to leave the fellow in our hands to do with as we pleased.”
“But she didn’t?”
“No; she was frightened, but apparently had full faith in herself to
deal with the situation. I went away, thinking she too would go to her
room. But she must have suspected something, and was still where I left
her when the shot was fired.”
“What have you succeeded in fastening upon Prentiss beside the charge
from Boston that he was carrying water upon both shoulders?” inquired
the big man.
“Nothing.”
“We made a try, that same night in Crown Street,” said the dragoon.
“But he’s such a sharp villain that we were hard put to it to avoid
suspicion.”
“I tried to make him admit that he’d betrayed Dana or young Camp to
Putnam,” said Hyde. “But he avoided us; and we were forced to pass the
thing off as a sort of wager.”
But at length there was a pushing back of chairs upon the other side
of the screen; the score was settled, after some argument with the
waiter; George heard the sound of feet crossing the floor, mingled
voices in talk that was both loud and light; then a door closed upon
them.
The youth looked at his watch. It was after eight o’clock. Hastily he
settled for his dinner, and rising, was helped on with his greatcoat.
Feeling in his pocket to make sure that he had his tinder box, he came
from behind the screen and made for the street door with quick steps.
Not once did he glance about him. If he had done so he would have
noted that all of the Major Hyde party had not gone. The burly man
still remained, and as George hurried by him, he glanced up. The same
speculation filled his eyes that always entered them at the sight of
George; but this time recognition quickly followed. His heavy jaws
snapped together, mastiff-like, and as the door closed behind the lad,
he arose to his feet and called for his hat and coat. And as George had
felt carefully for his tinder box, so did this man feel for his pistol;
and being satisfied that it was in its place he opened the door and
set doggedly after the other through the Christmas lighted streets of
Trenton.