Leaving his men near the door he went around the house. Then, approaching a window, he cautiously looked into the room. A dozen candles were on the table, and many more in sconces on the wall. At the table sat Mr. Galloway, the British superintendent of police, a staunch Tory, Mr. Penn, Colonel Grimstone, and Captain Verney. There were several empty chairs. Supper was over. There were empty bottles on the table and a big bowl of punch. The Colonel had removed his stiff regulation stock. Galloway had unbuttoned his embroidered waistcoat. Verney was looking at his watch. “A nice party,” said McLane. “Will it incline to be hospitable?” Then he returned to the front. The Lieutenant said: “Their horses are in the stable, the grooms asleep beside a fireplace.” A man was put at each window, two left at the door, and, it being now near to ten, McLane quietly entered the hall, and then, with his Lieutenant, appeared in the supper-room. Mr. Penn arose. “Good-evening, sir,” said McLane. “Lieutenant Hand and I have had a long ride, and seeing your lights took the liberty----” “Oh, most welcome--as are all gentleman of His Majesty’s service. Sit down, sir. Colonel Grimstone, you may know these officers.” “Never saw them in all my life,” said the Colonel gruffly. Captain Verney rose and bowed. “I beg pardon,” he said, “I did not catch your name.” “Captain Head, at your service.” “That’s queer,” said Grimstone; “Head and Hand.” “Sit down,” said the host. “Oh, by George, the servants have gone and--Verney, you are the youngest and you know the way, would you fetch some wine for us from the cellar?” McLane said a word to his Lieutenant, who rose, apologizing. “I want to see to the horses. Be back in a moment.” In the hall he saw Verney take a lantern and go down to the cellar. The Lieutenant waited a moment, shot bolt and lock behind the Captain, and, returning, sat down by Galloway. “Pray throw off your cloaks, gentlemen,” said Penn. “Will you drink, Captain Head?” McLane cast his cloak back from his left shoulder and set a hand on his pistols. “I never drink while on duty, Mr. Penn. You must hold me excused.” “As you please, sir,” answered Penn. “What’s your regiment?” inquired Grimstone in a thick voice. “McLane’s Horse! And if a man moves there will be two dead.” For a pistol was at the forehead of both the Colonel and Galloway. They were startled, but had wit enough to understand a very unpleasant situation. “Don’t do that!” cried Grimstone. Galloway sat as still and as pale as a statue. “I am sorry, Mr. Penn, to disturb you,” said McLane; “but as I have neither eaten of your salt nor drunk at your board, you will pardon me. Neither do I want you or Mr. Galloway,” he continued, “if you will say, on your honor, that you will not leave this room nor give the alarm for half an hour.” Penn said: “Needs must. You know the proverb, Captain McLane.” Galloway said: “Oh, I swear.”