“Yes,” replied Ethan. “I am going to London.” “You have chosen a rather out-of-the-way route,” said the soldier. “Perhaps,” answered the other, “but the highroad is not always desirable.” The young man regarded Ethan intently; then he said: “Somehow, I can’t quite make up my mind about you.” Ethan thought of the odd conduct of the speaker and replied, “The feeling is mutual, then; for you have puzzled me some.” The landlady had gone in once more, seeing that there was nothing wrong, and Ethan had taken a seat upon a bench facing the man in the scarlet coat. There was a short silence between them, then the latter asked: “Will you lend me your knife; I want to trim my cane a bit.” He held a light cane in his hand; through constant contact with the ground this had become worn and splintered at one end. Ethan noticed that the man carried a knife in his own belt, but thinking it in bad condition, he handed over his own without a word. The soldier began to chip at his cane with great deliberation. “It’s a good blade,” said he. “Where did you get it?” “Aboard ship,” said Ethan. “Ah,” the man darted a quick look at him and then went on chipping. “You got it from some other sailor, I suppose.” “No,” answered the lad, all unsuspecting, “the knife was supplied all hands by----” He stopped suddenly and bit his lip. The soldier looked at him, a laugh in his frank eyes. “You were going to say--Congress,” spoke he, with great calmness. Ethan stared at him in astonished silence, and then the man continued, “I recall the knife well; I had one myself. It was given me while on board the Lexington.” “The Lexington,” said Ethan, his breath coming hard. “Were you on board her?” He continued to stare; then added, “As a prisoner, I suppose.” “Prisoners are not supplied with knives on board American vessels of war,” said the other. “I was master’s mate in the Lexington.” “Then,” breathed Ethan excitedly, “you are an American.” “I am,” laughed the other. “I am of Norfolk, in Virginia, and my name is Richard Dale.” “But,” and Ethan’s eyes ran over the British uniform, “you are now----” He hesitated; and the other leaned over and tapped him upon the knee with one finger. “I am still an American. I wear a British uniform, but it is a disguise.” Then looking all about so as to assure himself that he was not overheard, Richard Dale told Ethan Carlyle his story. He told how the Lexington on that September day, when short of powder and ball, encountered the British cutter Alert. A desperate cannonading of two hours’ duration ensued; then the Lexington, running out of ball, clapped on sail and stood away. But the Alert was the swifter craft and overhauled her, renewing the engagement. The Lexington’s crew broke up all the iron on board and rammed it into her guns, but when this was exhausted she was forced to strike her colors. The officers and crew were landed at Plymouth and confined in Mill prison, where they suffered greatly.