After some hours of delay at the water front, I returned to Mickie's Tavern with a cartload of impedimenta, including my own chest. Don Pedro met me at the door, with the information that he had already seen General Wilkinson, who, upon learning that I also bore despatches, had sent him to summon me to the headquarters. The don's expression, so far as one might read his proud features, told me that the interview had not been over-satisfactory. "You are not pleased at General Wilkinson?" I asked. "_Nada_, John," he answered with a terseness which spoke volumes. I could well imagine what he would have said, had not his courtesy prevented. "I will hasten," I said. "It may be he will meet you in a more favorable mood after he has seen the letters I bear." "God knows! Who can tell?" he murmured in Spanish. "I hope to know within the hour," I replied. "_Sabe Dios--Quien sabe?_" he repeated, as I set off. I found the General's headquarters without difficulty, and upon mentioning my name, was at once passed in by the sentinel on guard in the piazza. When I entered the office, I found the General studying a map of Lower Louisiana, in company with Colonel Cushing, his second in command. For a moment he stared at me with stupid pomposity, as if he had been overcome with the whiskey, a bottle of which stood on the table before him. But even as I gave my name, he recognized me and beckoned me to a seat at the table, with a fussy show of cordiality. "Of course, of course, Dr. Robinson! Take a seat! I'm pestered with all kinds of visitors in these days of impending war. But a gentleman is always welcome. Colonel Cushing, you have met Dr. Robinson?--No?--One of our most promising young physicians,--already favorably known for his skill, both in the Upper and Lower Territory. He has, I understand, a private claim to present for my consideration. That is my understanding, doctor." "You have been so kind, sir, as to give me opportunity to present a matter of private business, if I am not mistaken." Colonel Cushing promptly rose, excused himself, and withdrew. The General leaned toward me, his fat, red face flushing still deeper, his breath hurried and labored. "You bring me letters?" he puffed. I took out my packet, broke the seal before his eyes, and handed over the first two letters, which were addressed to him. He tore open both with pudgy fingers that shook, either from excitement or excess of drink. The more bulky one he stared at for a moment, with knitted brows, only to fling it into a drawer. "Cypher again!" he muttered. "You spoke to me, sir?" I asked. He glared across at me, with what I could have sworn was panicky fear. His voice shook: "You--you--Do you know what is in these letters?" "You saw me break the seal of the packet," I replied. "I do not know the contents of Colonel Burr's messages; though, from what he told me, one letter relates to myself, and the other bears upon the death of Pitt."