No sooner was Barclugh settled in his lodgings, than he began to resume
his business duties.
“Mr. Hopewell,” he ordered, calling his clerk from the accounting room
to his private office, “go, and inform General Arnold that Mr. Barclugh
has arrived and that he wishes to see him at five o’clock in his
private office.
“Inform any personage of importance that I had a fall from my horse and
broke my collar-bone; be careful to whom you impart this information.”
“Very well, sir,” replied the faithful clerk, as he bowed himself out
of the stern-visaged presence.
With his going, Barclugh threw himself upon his couch, and rested
his weary body. The twenty days of exploit had been most eventful
and full of activities. Now that he had performed his mission to New
York, Arnold’s part alone had to be carried out and the plot would be
executed.
Weariness overcame Barclugh, and he slept soundly until he heard a
knock on his door.
Starting up with a dazed memory, he arose and found Mr. Hopewell at the
door, who informed him that General Arnold was in the outside office,
waiting to see him by appointment.
“Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Very well! I’ll see General Arnold in a very few
minutes,” said Barclugh, reflecting for an instant.
Barclugh hurriedly washed and dressed and as he passed through the
accounting room, he quietly said to his clerk:
“You may go now, Mr. Hopewell.”
When the door opened upon General Arnold he arose nervously, and, as he
beheld Barclugh with his arm in a sling, he rushed forward and seized
Barclugh’s right hand in both of his, exclaiming:
“Why, how do you do, Mr. Barclugh? I hope that you are not seriously
injured? What,--what hurt you?”
“This is nothing serious,” replied Barclugh, as he languidly took a
seat. His wan and weather-beaten face had placed ten years upon his
shoulders.
The two conspirators sat down and for an instant each gazed at the
other to learn if there were any sign of the white feather. To the
steady gaze of Barclugh’s steely blue eyes, Arnold returned their
inquisitive glance with a set jaw and a determined look that could not
be mistaken for backsliding.
“How have you made out?” inquired Arnold hesitatingly.
“All right,” replied Barclugh firmly. “I saw Washington; I saw Clinton;
I saw Risk killed.”
“Good enough for that little pudgy piece of conceit. He thought that
he could whip all Christendom with that Holker and fifty men. So he’s
killed! How did that happen?”
Barclugh briefly related the whole journey,--the capture of the General
Monk, and the loss of the Holker.
When it came to the capture of the Holker, General Arnold became very
much interested, for his profits were in the cargo. He asked:
“Well, Mr. Barclugh, shall I receive anything out of this Holker
business now?”
“Oh, we have sold the ship and cargo to the English for whom it was
intended, and the telltale crew is disposed of. I will guarantee your
share. You need not worry about that. All that you need to do now is to
secure the command of West Point. We will carry out the money part of
the agreement.”
“Very good, Mr. Barclugh,” continued Arnold, “but you see I am
suffering for money; my debts of five thousand pounds sterling are
driving me to destruction, and I wish that you could advance me some
to-day.”
Barclugh now saw his opportunity to crush the independence of Arnold.
At this pitiable appeal for money, he arose with fist clenched, and
struck the table as he spoke:
“General Arnold, I have advanced you $3000! I have undertaken the
Holker enterprise for your benefit! I have arranged to secure you
twenty thousand pounds for the delivery of West Point! I have even
secured for you the assurance of a General’s commission in His
Majesty’s service, and all that has been asked of you is to deliver
West Point! Now you ask me to advance more of His Majesty’s funds? No,
sir, not until you have done more of your part. You must secure West
Point!”
The man who had suffered the privations and starvation of an expedition
at the head of a half-clad army to capture Quebec in mid-winter, and
never lost heart, now quailed before this ostentation of money. He hung
his head and in half-choking tones he arose and said:
“I have written to General Washington, and I may hear from him very
soon. I do hope that you can help me.”
As Arnold finished the last sentence, he walked out of the rooms of
Roderick Barclugh with the most forlorn expression. His chin was
resting on his breast as he walked to his home, there, maybe, to
receive another imperious demand for money.