I was at mess when an orderly arrived from Sir William, bidding my
immediate presence at his quarters, a command that I could not think of
disobeying, however reluctant I might be to go. It was in truth somewhat
unpleasant to leave the brilliantly lighted room with its glittering
china and silver, its abundant wines, and the talk and laughter of the
good comrades who were there, for the loneliness and work of the
commander-in-chief's house. I like to be popular with my superior
officers, but now and then popularity is burdensome, and I leave it to
anybody if Sir William's favor was not extremely embarrassing to one in
my position. So I rose and apologized with reluctance for my departure,
which I said I must take at once, and at the same time naming the cause.
"Farewell, Melville," they shouted with mock solemnity. "He goes to sure
promotion, and this is another good man lost to those who love him."
I found Sir William at the table in his workroom, and the heap of papers
that lay before him was larger than the one which had been there the
first night that I had helped him. These were the closing days of his
command, and much remained to be done. He was, as I have said before,
and as all the world knows, an easy, sluggish, good-natured man, fond of
pleasure, and his work always came last. Vivian was there helping him,
and not looking over-happy. I was sure that he, like myself, was
thinking longingly of the mess and its lights and the good company. But
his face brightened a bit when he saw me, knowing now that he would have
a companion in misery.
Sir William turned to me a face upon which annoyance was plainly
written, and I saw in his hand a placard like that which Waters had
shown to us.
"Melville, have you heard of this?" he asked, holding up the placard.
"Yes, sir, I have heard of it."
"This placard, or paper, or whatever it may be, is the most unexampled
impertinence," he said, the red flushing into his swarthy face. "I think
that it is intended as a personal insult to me. This outlaw Wildfoot
must know of my forthcoming departure for England, and he is seeking to
taunt me. But he shall not do it! I tell you, he shall not do it!"
He struck his fist upon the table to give emphasis to his statement that
he would not allow a rebel partisan to upset his dignity, but it was
entirely obvious that it _was_ very much upset.
"If the man is so foolish and reckless as to enter Philadelphia,"
continued Sir William, "he will never get out again. I shall at least
have the satisfaction of disposing of this troublesome fellow before I
go to England."
The thought gave him consolation, and he began to dictate to us orders
about the watch for Wildfoot, doubling the sentries, cautioning them to
increase their vigilance, and making new dispositions of the pickets
which he thought would guard the city better. Many of these movements
could not be executed before the next morning; but Sir William did not
look for Wildfoot for two or three nights, provided he came at all, and
his countenance and voice began, by and by, to express satisfaction.
"We shall have our trap set," he said, "and the outlaw will walk into it
just as we wish."
The time passed slowly, and we were reinforced presently by another
secretary, who proved to be young Graves, a man who was the friend of
Belfort and Schwarzfelder, and more or less hostile to me. But he was in
a good humor, thinking of the prospective duel, in which he was to have
a part as one of the managers,--a circumstance which flattered his
pride, and he was very courteous to me. He exchanged a word occasionally
with me about it in a whisper, and informed me, by and by, that he was
not sure Schwarzfelder would win.
In a short while, Graves was sent to the anteroom to copy some documents
there. He sat at a table near the wall, and once, when I went to take
him some papers, I saw the sentinel, loaded gun on shoulder, walking
back and forth in front of the door. I heard the sound of footsteps
outside and, looking through the window, beheld a company of troops
marching past. It was evident that Sir William's anger over Wildfoot's
impertinence was producing activity. Then I went back to the
commander-in-chief's table and resumed my work there.
I think it was about 10 o'clock when Sir William told me to go and help
Graves, who seemed to be falling behind in his task. I drew up a chair
and sat down at the table facing Graves, and with my back to the door.
He, feeling his importance, wanted to exchange with me more whispered
comments on the duel; but I wished to avoid the subject, and worked so
industriously that he gave up the attempt.
We heard nothing during the next quarter of an hour but the scratching
of our goose quills and the occasional words of Sir William in the next
room as he gave an order. Then, chancing to look up, I beheld a most
extraordinary expression on the face of Graves. His eyes were distended
to a great width, and the white in them was shot with little specks of
red, the muscles of his face were drawn, and his whole look was that of
a man suffering from the most alarmed surprise.
"Why, what under the sun is the matter, Graves?" I exclaimed.
He did not say a word, but pointed behind me. I wheeled around to see;
but powerful hands grasped me by the throat, while other hands thrust
the muzzle of a pistol into my face. It was not necessary for anybody to
say to me: "Move a foot, or say a word, and you shall be a dead man!" I
knew it perfectly well without the telling, and I neither moved nor
spoke. Graves, who at the same instant had been served as I was, showed
a similar wisdom. Something soft, but very filling, was thrust into my
mouth, and, with an expedition as unpleasant as it was astonishing, I
was bound tightly to the table. Then the strong hands slipped off me,
and I was at liberty to gaze as much as I wished into the eyes of
Graves, who sat opposite me just as he had sat when we were at work, and
who was as securely bound and gagged as I. I always fancy that we made a
pretty pair, trussed up there like two turkeys ready for the spit. I
would have given much for a few words to express my feelings, but my
mouth was too full. I merely read the various looks in the eyes of
Graves, all of which expressed anger.
The men, four in number, who had performed this impolite deed, brushed
past me, and I saw only their backs, which were large and powerful. The
door between our room and Sir William's was shut; but they opened it,
leaving it so, and entered. I faced the apartment, and I saw distinctly
all that passed. Thus it was my fortune, while listening to the most
amazing conversation that I ever heard, to see also those who talked,
though only the back of one of the most important.
Sir William and Vivian were writing busily at the large table in the
centre of the room, when the intruders entered. Sir William sat at the
side of the table facing us, and Vivian was at the end. I saw the faces
of both clearly by the light of wax candles. Sir William had begun to
wear his usual placid look. I inferred that he was pleased at what he
was writing just then, and I think that it was instructions which he
felt soon would cause the capture of Wildfoot. The largest man of the
four put his hand on a chair, and drawing it up to the table sat down
opposite to Sir William and with his back to me. Neither Sir William nor
Vivian noticed their entrance until then, as they had walked with
extreme lightness. But when Sir William looked up and beheld the
stranger sitting uninvited and so calmly before him, his face flamed
into anger. I could see the rush of blood to his head.
"Who are you, and how dare you come here?" he cried, springing to his
feet.
"Be seated, Sir William, be seated," replied the man, in a strong,
clear, and soothing voice. "There is no occasion for surprise or wrath.
I am not an intruder. I sent you word in writing that I would call."