“It is a great Pleasure to me to have another Occasion of obeying the King’s Commands by desiring you to convey to Lord Carlisle, His Majesty’s approbation of His Lordship’s mission to America. “I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant, “Geo. Germaine. “Sir Henry Clinton, K. B.” Lord Carlisle was much flattered by the receipt of the King’s encouragement, although Clinton noted in the letter a slight expression of unrest over the lack of results in the war. However, Clinton did not take all of the burden of blame on himself; Lords Howe and Cornwallis had made some of the mistakes in the Jersey Campaigns and he was willing for the diplomatists to take a hand at the subjugation of the rebels, for a while, at least. They had talked much, as usual; now let them try their skill at results. Sir Henry had to give some instructions to his Adjutant, so he turned to Roderick Barclugh as he remarked: “Excuse me for a few moments, Mr. Barclugh. I have some urgent matters to dispose of.” “Certainly,” returned Barclugh as he took up a discussion of affairs with Lord Carlisle, asking: “What is the situation here, my Lord?” “Oh, it’s hard to convince these military people,” answered Carlisle as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of General Clinton and Andre. “I presume so,” assented Barclugh, dryly, as he shrugged his shoulders. “But what have you done, my Lord, on _your_ mission?” asked Barclugh. “Oh, nothing but to wait for you,” answered Carlisle disgustedly. “Well, we must do something very soon, or know the cause,” declared Barclugh as General Clinton approached them. “Gentlemen,” remarked General Clinton, “we might better retire to the Council Chamber and discuss our matters there. Shall I send for Mr. Eden, my Lord?” “Never mind Eden, General,” replied Carlisle. “Mr. Barclugh is anxious to conclude with us and be about his own mission. I know that he is impatient at least to be out of New York,” replied Carlisle bluntly. “Very well, very well, gentlemen,” assented Clinton as he led the way to the staircase and bowed to the other two in Pickwickian fashion as he said: “After you,” and he bowed and gestured toward the staircase with his chubby hand. A bright fire crackled in the fireplace of a nearly square room where the diplomats were to hold council with the Commander-in-Chief; a round table in the center contained a large map of the Colonies; a half dozen straight-backed bandy-legged chairs stood around carelessly; and a corner closet with a glass door was well stocked with a choice selection of Madeira. Here were three representatives of English authority presented with the problem of subduing the rebellious Colonies. Each one, however, had his own pet theory of serving the King, ostensibly for the glory of the King, but primarily to gain glory for himself.