How Meadows contrived to meet Ned, to open the matter to him, to convey the ensuing correspondence, to avoid discovery upon this matter in the rebel camp, as he avoided it upon Washington's business in New York, is beyond me: if it were not, I should be as skilful, as fit for such work, as Meadows himself. 'Tis well-known now what marvellously able secret agents Washington made use of; how to each side many of them had to play the part of spies upon the other side; how they were regarded with equal suspicion in both camps; and how some of them really served their enemies in order finally to serve their friends. More than one of them, indeed, played a double game, receiving pay from both sides, and earning it from both, each commander conceiving himself to be the one benefited. In comparison with such duplicity, the act of Meadows, in undertaking Margaret's private business as a secret matter adjunctive to his main employment, was honesty itself. 'Tis thus explained why, though Margaret might communicate with her brother in the enemy's camp, she got no word from her husband there. But his thoughts and his wishes had scarce another subject than herself. The desire to see her, possessed him more and more wholly. He imagined that her state of mind must in this be a reflection of his own. Long ago her anger must have died--nay, had it not passed in that farewell embrace when she held up her face to invite his kiss? The chastening years of separation, the knowledge of his toils and dangers, must have wrought upon her heart, to make it more tender to him than ever. She must grieve at their parting, long for his home-coming. So convinced was he of such feelings on her part, that he pitied her for them, felt the start of many a tear in sorrow for her sorrow. "Poor girl!" he thought. "How her face would gladden if I were to walk into her presence at this moment!" And the thought gave birth to the resolution. The joy of such a meeting was worth a thousand risks and efforts. His first step was to get leave of absence and General Washington's permission to enter New York. The former was quickly obtained, the latter less so. But if he failed to demonstrate to the commander the possible profit of his secretly visiting the enemy's town, he convinced him that the entrance was not too difficult to one who knew the land so well, and who could so easily find concealment. Sympathising with Philip's private motive in the case, trusting him implicitly, and crediting his ability to take care of himself in even so perilous a matter, Washington finally gave consent.