“Captain, you have done your duty. Leave the rest to me. Load your ship, and sail with the flour to the appointed rendezvous at the entrance of Sag Harbor.” “That’s well, Mr. Barclugh. I’m better at running a blockade or overhauling a lime-juicer than in handling a horse-trading shark,” was the blurting opinion of the Yankee skipper, as he tripped out of the compting-room of Roderick Barclugh,--little knowing that he had played the preliminary part in a nation’s drama. The time was momentous on Arnold’s hands as he pulled at his hair to think that he had lost his opportunity with Captain Risk, when the door of the office opened, and there stood Roderick Barclugh. Arnold, wondering who was Risk’s principal, stared in amazement at Barclugh’s presence. But Barclugh at once knew that boldness was his weapon to use. “Why, good morning, Mr. Barclugh, I am very glad to see you,” said Arnold. “Will you be seated?” as he walked to the door and told the orderly to admit no one, and then bolted the door behind him. “General Arnold,” said Barclugh, “do you mean business about this flour transaction?” Arnold put on his most gracious air and replied: “I am entirely in _touch_ with the enterprise, Mr. Barclugh, but I was obliged to require some token of good faith on the part of the principals. So you see I could not give Captain Risk the passport until I had arranged with the responsible parties as to the ways and means of getting out of the scrape in case of complications arising.” “What token do you require, General Arnold, on my part?” coolly asked Barclugh. “Oh, that is a simple matter for men of substance, Mr. Barclugh. You see I have bought an estate on the Schuylkill and am in debt; I keep up my house in town and my pay is entirely inadequate for the tastes of my family, so, if you could loan me a few thousand pounds in gold, I could serve you on this occasion and possibly on others.” “You are very right, General, about your pay being too small to support a gentleman’s family. To be candid with you, what you need is money. If I were to put you in the way of securing twenty thousand pounds sterling, would you accept the proposition? Merely a proposition to do your country a lasting benefit.” “My dear Mr. Barclugh, I am dying daily of chagrin, and money is my only salvation. I would be willing to die ignominiously if I could only secure my wife that much fortune.” “Arnold, would you go over to the other party? Would you consider consequences? Would you honor the obligation?” “Barclugh, a man that is the slave of the need of money has no country, has no conscience, has no will of his own. I am a slave. My wife’s desires torment me as a lash. The abyss opens before my eyes. My country’s cause can never prevail against the wealth and resources of Britain. To be loyal to America I would die a pauper in a lost cause. To serve Britain I would gain my desires,--victory and riches. The die is cast, sir, command me!”