"Sir," said he to Peyton, politely, "I know the custom of war. But since a horse must be taken, you will find one of mine in the stable. Will you not take it instead of this lady's?" Peyton had been scrutinizing Colden's features. "Mr. Colden, if I remember," he said, when the major had finished. "You remember right," said Colden, with a bow, concealing behind a not too well assumed quietude what inward tremors the situation caused him. "And you are doubtless now an officer in some Tory corps?" said Peyton, quickly. "No, sir, I am neutral," replied Colden, rather huskily, with an instant's glance of warning at Elizabeth. "Gad!" said Peyton, with a smile, still closely surveying the major. "From your sentiments the time I met you in New York in '75, I should have thought you'd take up arms for the King." "That was before the Declaration of Independence," said Colden, in a tone scarcely more than audible. "I have modified my opinions." "They were strong enough then," Peyton went on. "You remember how you upheld them with a rapier in Bayard's woods?" "I remember," said Colden, faintly, first reddening, then taking on a pale and sickly look, as if a prey to hidden chagrin and rage. It seemed as if his tormentor intended to torture him interminably. Peyton, who knew that one of his men would come for him as soon as the horse should be saddled and bridled, remained facing the unhappy major, wearing that frank half-smile which, from the triumphant to the crestfallen, seems so insolent and is so maddening. "I've often thought," said Peyton, "I deserved small credit for getting the better of you that day. I had taken lessons from London fencing-masters." (Consider that the woman whom Colden loved was looking on, and that this was all news to her, and imagine how he raged beneath the outer calmness he had, for safety's sake, to wear.) "'Twas no hard thing to disarm you, and I'm not sorry you're neutral now. For if you wore British or Tory uniform, 'twould be my duty to put you again at disadvantage, by taking you prisoner." The face of one of Peyton's men now appeared in the doorway. Peyton nodded to him, then continued to address the major. "As for your request, my traps are now on the other horse, and there is not time to change. I must ride at once." He stepped quickly to the door, and on the threshold turned to bow. Then cried Elizabeth: "May you ride to your destruction, for your impudence, you bandit!" "Thank you, madam! I shall ride where I must! Farewell! My horse is waiting." And in an instant he was gone, having closed the door after him with a bang. "_His_ horse! The highwayman!" quoth Elizabeth. "Give the gentleman his due," said Miss Sally, in a way both mollified and mollifying. "He paid for it with those." She indicated the strewn fragments of the Continental bills on the floor. "Forward! Get up!" It was the voice of Captain Peyton outside. The horses were heard riding away from the lawn.