“On the spot,” said Champe. “First I had him tell me all he knew about Askew. The man is not a Britisher; he is a free-lance, picking up information where he can and selling it in the best market. This gave me my lead. Such a man would be carrying his life in his hands in either camp, and he could never go boldly to either headquarters with his wares. With half a chance, I thought I might scare him off for a day or two, at any rate; and here Mr. Baldwin helped me again. We went to the Three Larks together, found our man, and Mr. Baldwin introduced me as a gentleman in the same line of business.” “Excellent! You are a man in a thousand, Sergeant Champe.” “We got on well enough after Mr. Baldwin left us. With my knowledge of things on our side of the Neutral Ground, I soon convinced Askew that I was an honest spy, like himself, and then, with a pot of ale or so to moisten the ropes, I began to pull gently on the dragnet. Askew’s a shy fish, and no gudgeon, but he finally let out that he had a piece of news he hoped would bring a good price. The sticking point was the risk he ran in delivering it, he said, by which I knew that he had been playing two games at the same time.” “And you helped his fears to grow?” I put in. “To the queen’s taste,” laughed the sergeant. “And at the trigger-pulling moment I made him a proposal. ‘How if we should go together to Sir Henry Clinton, and stand by each other?’ says I; and when I added that I had a bit of influence in that quarter, he took the bait at a gulp.” “It is very clear that I am not the only daredevil in this company,” I remarked. “But you did not mean to do any such mad thing as that, did you?” “Not to-day, Captain Dick; it is not my day for visiting Sir Henry Clinton; nor did I mean that it should be Mr. James Askew’s, either. But by this time I saw that I could not frighten him entirely off; he was too shrewd and too eager for the gold. So the only thing was to carry out Major Lee’s court-martial sentence on the body of the prisoner. He was as good as dead, anyway.” “Surely, Sergeant Champe, if you escape the gallows here it will be only so that you may live to carry out your hereditary destiny of hanging other people,” I commented. “But go on: he consented to your plan?” “Something cautiously, though he was now in the middle of his third cup of strong waters. Sifting him carefully again, I found that he was afraid to pass through the town in daylight, and here he played into my hands. I told him we might take a boat and pull around the water-front to the fort landing-place and so dodge all the curious eyes in the town.” “But how would that help us?” I queried. I confess I was a little dull that morning. Champe’s face lightened with his diabolical grin when he explained his purpose. When they were safely in the boat--a cockle-shell belonging to the Three Larks--he meant to upset it and drown the spy.