Having now some little time to call my own, I first secured a lodging at the tavern where the ham had made me homesick for the smoke-houses of Virginia, and then set out to find Sergeant Champe. That I should chance upon him readily enough, I had no doubt; but with the town full of soldiers it proved a more difficult thing than I had foreseen, so difficult that the noon hour found me still groping for my accomplice. But one thing I did find, namely, the barracks of the “Loyal American Legion,” and, with due respect for any true Loyalists there may have been in this traitor-built corps, I never saw a more hang-dog shuffling of men than these who were shortly to call our Judas “General.” They were a curst lot, too, for in all my introductory foregathering with them, I could not find more than three or four who would join me in a soldierly pot of wine. Castner joined me at the midday meal at my inn, this time as my guest; and now I began to regret my knowing of this fine young fellow, who was condoning in me what must have appeared to him as the most deplorable wickedness a soldier can be guilty of. I foresaw complications, if our acquaintance should go on ripening into friendship; I must use him, or any other man coming in my way, to forward the great end in view, and already the idea of making the young, fine-faced, upright lieutenant an innocent accessory was growing repugnant to me. So I thought it no more than right to give him his warning--which I did. “You have rooms in the barracks, Mr. Castner?” I asked when we had come to the long-stemmed pipes after the meal in the inn common-room. “No,” he replied. “Being on detached duty as one of Sir Henry’s aides, I live as I please.” “And where does it please you to live, if I may ask?” “In this house at the present time. It is not so good as the best, perhaps; but it is far better than the worst.” Here was a promise of more complications. My necessary meetings with Champe, which I had thought this tavern so near the fort might shelter, could scarcely come under the same roof with Castner and not awaken suspicion. Yet I reflected that I was not tied to the tavern looking down Broad Way to Sir Henry Clinton’s headquarters with any string; I could break loose whenever I chose. “It is very good, indeed,” I allowed, thinking still of the breakfast ham and eggs. Then quite abruptly: “You have taken a fancy to me, Mr. Castner, and it does you little credit. You will live longer and have more money and a better digestion, if you give me the cold shoulder.” The young Briton’s smile was altogether good-natured. “If I were inclined to be suspicious, which I trust I am not, I might wonder why you particularly wish to be quit of me, Mr. Page,” he said mildly. “I don’t, on my own account,” I denied bluntly. “But I am telling you the truth--for your own good. Have you ever fought a duel, Lieutenant?”