“In the forenoon,” I went on, and now I saw that I must begin to invent. “Later on, after Mistress Arnold’s visit to you here, I learned through Champe that the man who had worn citizen’s clothes in the forenoon had turned up at the tavern in the uniform of a British private soldier, and that he had been seen in company with an officer wearing the uniform of the Loyal Americans. This, in itself, seemed a little suspicious, and as the plot you speak of was, by that time, becoming a tavern rumor--” “I see,” said Arnold, anticipating me. “You sallied out to find this officer and his boat-requiring companion?” I bowed. “We had little difficulty in placing them, the officer and his masquerading comrade, in the lane beyond the tavern; and when they went eastward, you may imagine that we, as you might say, tracked them step for step. They took a most roundabout way, but finally reached and entered the boat-builder’s house.” “Ah; but you did not drop it there, Captain Page. You are far too enterprising, I am sure.” By this time the traitor was up and walking the floor, his eyes flashing, and his entire manner reminding me of nothing so much as of a hound roving to find a scent. “No; we did not drop it. But what followed was still more mysterious. You must know that by this time it was black dark. The two men locked themselves in the house, struck a light, made a fire on the hearth, and, by the sounds, filled a kettle and put it on to boil.” “You could see them--see their faces?” was the eager question. “I saw the face of the soldier, but not that of the officer,” I replied, skipping around the eager query. “The man who had been boat-seeking in the forenoon was tall and dark; something on Sergeant Champe’s order. The other was also tall, with square shoulders, and he was fair.” Arnold stopped abruptly, and wheeled to face me. Some sudden emotion had transformed him. His eyes were blazing, and the thin nostrils were quivering with rage or excitement, I could not tell which. “I can name one of those men--possibly both of them!” he cried. “But go on, Captain Page; go on, sir!” “They made tea and ate,” I went on, wondering what new pool of disturbment I had unconsciously troubled. “Afterward they sat before the fire and smoked. Later, the soldier rose and went into another room, coming back directly to say something which made the officer spring up and go with him. They took the candle, and, as the fire had died down, the house was dark; dark and silent. But after a time there came muffled cries, and a crash like that of a falling trap-door followed by a bedlam of thunderings as if a cataract of bricks were pouring upon the floor. Then a strange little man, dripping and reeking as if he had been soaked in a cask of liquor, dashed out of the house and disappeared in the darkness.”