“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: