An hour later there were calls of "good-by," and the sound of opening and closing doors below, mingled with shrill feminine voices calling for wraps, and out in the street the stamping of horses. Then silence reigned, and he knew the guests had departed. Presently there was a slow tread upon the stairs, and Mistress Cheshire called back some directions to those below. Then a lighter, quicker step followed, and Mary Singleton went singing to Joscelyn's room. Fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes of intense silence went by, and then a slender thread of light shone under the door; and so faint as to be almost inaudible, a tap fell on the panel. Quickly as possible he drew the bolt and opened the door, but only just in time to see Joscelyn enter her own room and close the door. On a table, in reach of his hand, stood a shaded candle and beside it was his supper. It was for this she had called him; but hungry as he was, he forgot it in his bitter disappointment that he was not to speak to her. Time pressed, however, and soon he was back in the attic, devouring the food she had left. Particularly grateful to him was the mug of steaming hot tea. "Tax or no tax, it cheers me up, temptress that you are, sweet Joscelyn. Perchance a Continental toast may override the Royalist poison lurking in it, and so I pledge Nathaniel Greene and his trusted scout--particularly the scout." He laughed softly as he drained the cup. Physically he was strengthened and warmed for the flight before him, but his heart was heavy with disappointment and dread. Once he abandoned the idea of attempting to escape; the house had been searched and the guard removed, therefore he was safer here than anywhere else, and he must see her before he went. But more unselfish council prevailed; it was not his safety only that must be considered. The knowledge he had gained would be of inestimable value to Greene; the going of the guard left the way open to him, and it was duty, not personal inclination, that must dictate his course.