"Seventeen."
"Seventeen, five."
"Yer might ez waal quit, Joe," interjected Squire Hennion.
"I hez more 'n' yer hev, an' I intends ter buy it. Nineteen
my bid, pa'son."
"Twenty," burst out Joe, malignantly.
"Twenty-one."
"Twenty-five."
Hennion's face in turn grew red with anger, and he half
rose, his fist clinched, but recollecting himself he resumed his
seat.
"Going at twenty-five," announced McClave. "Will any
one give more?"
A breathless pause came, while Bagby's countenance assumed
a look of sudden anxiety. "I did n't say twenty-five," he
quickly denied; "I said twenty-two."
A wave of contradiction swept through the hall.
Nothing daunted, the honourable Joseph repeated his
assertion.
"He, he, he!" chuckled Hennion, "thet comes of biddin'
more money than yers hev."
"We'll call it twenty-two thousand," said McClave, "since
Mr. Bagby persists. Will you give any more?"
"One hunded more," said Hennion; and nobody offering
above him, it was knocked down at that price.
As the sale was declared completed, Bagby rose. "At
least, I made you pay double for it," he growled spitefully to
his competitor.
"Yer did, consarn yer," was Hennion's reply; but then a
smile succeeded the angry look on the shrewd face. "I did n't
pay more 'n a third of what 't is wuth, then."
"'T will be a dear buy, that I warn you," retorted Joseph,
angrily. "I'll pay you off yet for bidding me out of it."
"Yer be keerful what yer do, or I'll do some payin' off myself,"
warned Hennion.
Brereton, who had stayed through the sale, with a contemptous
shrug of the shoulders, walked over to the ordinary. Here
he ate a silent supper, and then mounting his horse set off on
his evening ride back to his regiment.
Half-way between Brunswick and Greenwood, while his
thoughts were dwelling on the day's doings, and on what effect it
would have on those far away in the mountains of Virginia, he
was brought back to the present by hearing his name called
in a low voice from behind a wall.
"Who 's that?" he demanded, halting his horse.
"Are you alone?"
"Yes," replied the officer, as he drew out a pistol from the
holster.
"No occasion for that, colonel," said Joe Bagby's unmistakable
accents, as the man climbed over the stones and came
forward. "It's me," he announced. "Just walk your horse
slow, so I can keep beside you, for I've something to tell you,
and I don't want to stand still here in the road."
"Well, what is it?" questioned Brereton, as he started his
horse walking.
"I rather guess you came to town on business, did n't you?"
"Perhaps."
"Might be something to do with the sale of Greenwood."
"Possibly."
"But more likely 't was something to do with public
matters?"
"Well?"
"What would you give to catch them as was concerned in
the killing of the post-riders?"
Not a motion or sound did Jack give to betray himself.
"That lies outside of my work," he said. "'T is the business
of the secret service."
"Do you mean that, if I can put you in the way of laying
hands on the whole gang, you won't do it?"
"If you choose to tell me what you know, I'll report it, for
what it 's worth, to headquarters, and General Washington will
take such actions as he judges fit."
"There won't be time for that," asserted Joe. "It's to-morrow
the thing 's to be played."
"What thing?"
"The robbing of the mail."
"How know you that?"
"Well, being in politics, colonel, I make it my business to
know most things that is happening in the county. Now,
I've been ferreting for some time to get at this post-riding
business, and at last I've found out how it 's done. And
they 're going to do it again to-morrow night just this side
of Rocky Hill."
For a moment Brereton was silent. "How is it done?"
he asked.
"It's this way. One of Moody's gang is working with
Squire Hennion as hired man; and when Hennion knows that
a rider is due, he drops into the ordinary, and, casual like,
finds out all he can as to when he rides on, and by what road.
Then he hurries off home and tells his man, and he goes
and tells Moody, who gets his men together and does the
business."
"I see. And how can we know where they set the ambush,
so as to set a counter one?"
"It's easy as can be. When they have the mail, it 's to
Hennion's barn they all goes, where they cut it open and takes
out everything as Clinton will pay for, and sends it off at once
on one of the boats of provisions as old Hennion is stealing
into New York two or three times a week."
"Ah, that 's where he's got the money to buy Greenwood,
is it?"
"Yes; I tell you he's a traitor if there ever was one, colonel.
But I guess he'll be nabbed now. All you've got to do is to
hide your men in the barn to-morrow night, and you'll take
the whole lot red-handed."
"And I suppose you tell me this to get your revenge for
this afternoon."
"Just a little, colonel; but don't forget I'm a patriot, who 's
always trying to serve his country. Now I'll tell you how
we'll do it. You bring your men down t' other side of the
river to Meegan's place; and as soon as it 's dark, I'll come
across the river in a sloop I own and will bring you right over
to Hennion's wharf, from which it will be easy to steal into
his barn without no one seeing us."
Brereton made no answer for a minute, then said, "Very
well; I'll adopt your plan."
"I suppose there'll be some reward coming to me,
colonel?"
"Undoubtedly," replied Jack, but with a twitch of contempt.
"Is that all?"
"That's enough to do the business, I guess," rejoined Joe.
"About nine clock I'll allow to be at Meegan's," he said.
Without a word of assent, Jack quickened his pace. When
he had gone fifty feet he looked back, but already the informer
had disappeared. "What dirty work every man must
do on occasion!" he muttered. "I'd suspect the scoundrel
but for what I heard this afternoon, and he has it all so pat
that he's probably been in it himself more or less. However,
it promises well; and 't will he a service of the utmost importance
if we can but break up the murdering gang and
bring them to justice, for 't is no time to have Clinton reading
all our secrets."
It was midnight when Brereton trotted into Chatham and
dismounting from his horse walked wearily into his tent.
His servant, sleeping on the floor, waked, and hastily rose.
"A despatch, sir, from headquarters," he said, taking a paper
from his pocket.
"When did it arrive?" demanded Jack, as he examined the
seal, to make sure that it had not been tampered with, and
then broke the letter open.
"Four hours ago, sir, by special courier.'