It was a false alarm, as I was able to assure the two women after I had spoken to the sergeant in charge of the detail. Properly counted, Cousin Julianna’s “lot of redcoat soldiers” dwindled to a half-dozen men, sent out by Arnold to guard the house where his wife lay--this in view of the disturbing rumors which might reach her ears. It was to advise her of this that he had sent the letter by my hands, as Margaret Shippen, herself, came down to tell us. I take no shame for saying that I made haste to leave when Mistress Arnold came upon the scene; and as it was, her sweet patient face, as reproachful to me as an accusing angel’s, went all the way with me in the storm-breasting return to the lower part of the town, with the wind howling overhead and a sleety rain driving in level stinging volleys. Champe was alone in the lower hall when I gave the password to the sentry at the door and entered. “It is a bad night?” he said, most grimly. “It is,” I admitted, struggling out of my dripping watchcoat. “There will be shipping lost, think you?” he queried meaningly. “No small craft will venture out,” I returned, matching his hyperbole. “Anything sitting less deeply than a fifty-four would founder in the launching.” “I thought so,” he said gloomily; and after that we sat in silence before the fire, listening to the wind yelling in the huge chimney. It was still early in the evening when Arnold came down to us, treading the stair so lightly that his appearance was all but a surprise. His brow was clouded, but there was a dull glow in the depths of his eyes to tell of the passions slumbering in his heart. “A word with you privately, Captain Page,” he said, drawing me aside. “Make your dispositions for the night so that the house will seem unguarded. If our intruders return, I would wish them to find the way to my bedside unhindered--but with two good men close behind them and ready to act at the critical moment. You understand me?” I bowed. “You think there will be another attempt made--to-night? And if so, you desire to have the kidnappers taken in the very act?” “There will be another attempt, Captain; of that I am sure,” he answered. “I told you this morning that Lieutenant Castner was missing--absent without leave. He is still unheard of. When he returns, I wish to see him a prisoner in your hands, Mr. Page.” With that, he left us and went up-stairs; and when I looked at Champe, the sergeant was scowling fiercely at our handful of fire. “You heard him?” I asked, when Arnold’s door had closed; and Champe nodded. “We are more likely to be Castner’s prisoners, than he ours, don’t you think, Captain Dick?” he said. “Much more likely,” I admitted; adding: “I don’t like this mysterious disappearance of Mr. Charles Castner just at this time.” “What does it argue, think you?”