Then the two senior officers talked long and earnestly about matters of which Tom had not the slightest knowledge; but, seeing that he was supposed to be well informed as to most of it, he kept nodding his head or shaking it, as the case might be, and wore a look of great gravity. He gradually drew from their talk that he was supposed to be a messenger, sent by the very highest officials of the government at London, to collect facts of some kind. But just what the facts were, and why so much caution was considered necessary in their collecting, he could not learn. At length Cornwallis said: “There is to be an affair to-morrow evening at which you could meet a very great many people, if you choose to attend.” Tom trembled with expectation; but his voice was steady enough, as he asked: “Indeed; and what is that?” “Lieutenant Cheyne’s wedding; it is Christmas eve and he is to marry the ward of Jasper Harwood, a most excellent gentleman and a strong advocate of the king’s government.” “I shall be most happy to have you come,” said Cheyne, bowing. “I’ll be glad to,” said Tom, returning the bow, and struggling to hide his eagerness. “There is to be a sort of Christmas fête at the same time,” remarked Lieutenant Cheyne. “A mask, you know; it’s a thing that the people here do about Christmas time, you see.” “Ah, yes! A mask.” Tom looked thoughtful. “But, my dear sir, I think this will prevent my attending. I have no costume.” “No costume,” broke in Tarleton, with a loud laugh. “What is the matter with the disguise you are wearing now?” “Ah, true,” said the youth, coolly. “Quite so.” “I’ve had my eye upon it for some time,” said Tarleton. “It’s much the same sort of thing as that scamp Marion and his fellows wear. But I suppose you adopted it because you had to pass through the region which that villain infests.” “I did pass through Marion’s district--yes,” said the youth, evenly. “It will do nicely,” said Cheyne. “Indeed I could imagine nothing better for such an occasion.” “Very well, then,” said Tom. “It is settled.” “I shall be glad to send for you,” remarked Cheyne. Tom considered for a moment. His thoughts were working upon a plan that had just flashed into his mind; and then he replied: “No; upon consideration it would be best that I go alone. Where is the wedding to take place, sir?” “Here,” said Cornwallis. “You came to this plantation blindfolded; you could not find your way here again, alone.” “I shall leave the place with my eyes open,” said Tom, “and shall note its location as I ride toward the town. And now,” after a short pause, “if we have quite finished, I shall be on my way.” “We have said all that we can say, for the present,” said Cornwallis. “Then,” said the young swamp-rider, as he bowed with dignity to the three British officers, “I will bid you good-night, gentlemen, and trust that we shall meet soon again.”