The candle-flame struggled against the wind, turning this way and that, and made the vague shadows of the people and of the slender balusters dance on floor and wall. From without came the sound of Peyton's horses pawing, and of his men speaking to one another in low tones. "Your pardon, madam," said Peyton, "but a horse I must have. The service I am on permits no delay--" "I doubt not!" broke in Elizabeth. "The Hessians are probably chasing you." "On the contrary, I am chasing the Hessians. At Boar Hill, yonder, my horse gave out. 'Tis important my troops lose no time. Passing here, we saw horses being led into your stable. I ordered one of my men to take the best of your beasts, and put my saddle on it,--and he is now doing so." "How dare you, sir!" and Elizabeth came quickly to the foot of the stairs, a picture of regal, flaming wrath. "Why, madam," said Peyton, "'tis for the service of the army. I require the horse, and I have come here to pay for it--" "It is not for sale--" "That makes no difference. You know the custom of war." "The custom of robbery!" cried Elizabeth. Captain Peyton reddened. "Robbery is not the custom of Harry Lee's dragoons, madam," said he, "whatever be the practice of the wretched 'Skinners' or of De Lancey's Tory Cowboys. I shall pay you as you choose,--with a receipt to present at the quartermaster's office, or with Continental bills." "Continental rubbish!" And, indeed, Elizabeth was not far from the truth in the appellation so contemptuously hurled. "You prefer that, do you?" said Peyton, unruffled; whereupon he took from within his waistcoat a long, thick pocketbook, and from that a number of bills; which must have been for high amounts, for he rapidly counted out only a score or two of them, repocketing the rest, and at that time, thereabouts, "a rat in shape of a horse," as Washington himself had complained a month before, was "not to be bought for less than L200."[4] Peyton handed her the bills he had counted out. "There's a fair price, then," said he; "allowing for depreciation. The current rate is five to one,--I allow six." Elizabeth looked disdainfully at the proffered bills, and made no move to take them. "Pah!" she cried. "I wouldn't touch your wretched Continental trash. I wouldn't let one of my black women put her hair up in it. Money, do you call it? I wouldn't give a shilling of the King for a houseful of it." "I beg your pardon," said Peyton, cheerfully. "Since July in '76 there has been no king in America. I leave the bills, madam." He laid them on the newel post, beside the candlestick. "'Tis all I can do, and more than many a man would do, seeing that Colonel Philipse, the owner of this place, is no friend to the American cause, and may fairly be levied on as an enemy--" "Colonel Philipse is my father!"