"You sent word that your business is pressing," he said. "But I hope that Lieutenant Melville and Captain Montague are in good health." "We know not the bodily condition of Lieutenant Melville and Captain Montague," I said, "but we trust that both are well." "What sort of jesting is this?" he said, frowning. "Remember that, though my successor has been appointed, I am yet commander-in-chief." "It is no jest," I replied. "We speak in the utmost respect to you. I am not Lieutenant Melville of the British army, nor is my friend Captain Montague. Those officers are prisoners in the hands of the Americans." "Then who are you?" he asked. "We are American officers," I replied, "who, in a moment of rashness and folly, took the places of Captain Montague and Lieutenant Melville." "Is this truth or insanity?" he asked, sharply. "I think it is both," I replied, soberly. He smiled somewhat, and then asked more questions, whereupon I told the whole story from first to last, furnishing such proofs that he could not doubt what I said. For a while he sat in a kind of maze. Then he said,-- "Are you aware, gentlemen, that the most natural thing for me to do is to hang you both as spies?" We admitted with the greatest reluctance that the laws of war would permit it. "Still, it was but a mad prank," said Sir William, "and you have given yourselves up when you might have gone away. I cannot see of what avail it would be to the British cause, to me, or to any one to hang you. I like you both, and you, Lieutenant Chester, as you call yourself, and as I suppose you are, threw that Hessian colonel into the street for me so handsomely that I must ever be in your debt, and I don't suppose that you had anything to do with the attempt of that villian, Wildfoot; moreover, it seems that you are quite capable of hanging yourselves in due time. I will spare the gallows. But I wish you were Englishmen, and not Americans." I felt as if the rope were slipping off our necks when Sir William spoke these words, and my spirits rose with most astonishing swiftness. I must say that Sir William Howe, though a slothful man and a poor general, was kind of heart sometimes, and I have never liked to hear people speak ill of him. "Your case," he said, "is likely to be a source of mighty gossip in this town; but I shall not leave you here long to enjoy your honors. We exchange for Lieutenant Belfort and some prisoners who are in the hands of the rebels. You will be included in the exchange, and you will leave Philadelphia soon. You need not thank me. In truth, I ought to hang you as spies; but I am curious to know what act of folly you will commit next." I am confident that Sir William in reality liked us greatly, for he was fond of adventure. Perhaps that was the reason he was not a better general.