Castner was waiting for me in the ante-room, as I found, but this time only to pass me beyond the sentry at the door. The fact that I was allowed to depart unhindered seemed to be a sufficient guaranty that I had satisfied his chief; but I owe it to the young aide to say that his manner to me now was neither more nor less cordial than it had been over the ham and eggs in our breakfast tavern. Having thus crossed my Rubicon, and, as one may say, burned my boats behind me, the next thing was to find Champe and to put that ferocious patriot on a proper footing with me. But first I had to get rid of my uniform as a captain of Baylor’s Horse, and here Castner served me again, quite willingly, going with me to a shop north of the burned region and knocking the sleepy proprietor out of his morning nap to wait on me. Though I had said that I did not know Arnold personally, I knew enough of him and of his foppish taste in dress to make me drive a gentleman’s bargain with the shop-keeper; and when I was arrayed like the lilies of the field in such ready-made finery as I could purchase, Castner looked me up and down approvingly, and swore it was a pity I had ever forsaken my proper garmenting to don the coarse homespun which we officers of Baylor’s Horse made it a point of honor to wear. By the time my bargaining was done, it was too late to go in search of Champe if I were to take Sir Henry Clinton’s nine o’clock hint pointing to Arnold. So, rather against my better judgment, I faced southward with Castner again, giving our Judas the preference over the worthy sergeant-major--a mistake which was to carry heavier consequences than I ever dreamed could cluster upon so small a pin-point. IV HOW MY RANK WAS REGAINED NOTWITHSTANDING Sir Henry Clinton’s voucher for Benedict Arnold’s receiving hour, we found the man, Castner and I, on his door-step and apparently just going out, as we came up. I expected Castner to introduce me at least, but here I had my first hint of Arnold’s standing, or rather his lack of standing, with the British officers, which was pointed by the lieutenant striding on with his head in the air, and leaving me abruptly to my own devices. Since boldness was the only word I knew, or could know, in all this business, I ran up the steps, struck my hat to the man I hoped to see well hanged, and gave him General Clinton’s note. While he was reading the scrawl--the British knight wrote a most fearful and wonderful hand--I had time to observe how a few short weeks had changed the traitor.