The doctor was beginning to give him some verbal instructions when the bell at the gate rang again, and following close upon the servant’s heels the younger Ross entered the room. He was travel-stained and his clothes looked dusty and rumpled. Apparently he was surprised to find the other gentlemen present, and stood somewhat embarrassed at the door, but upon being presented to Mr. Deane, whom he had not met, his embarrassment changed to excitement quickly, and he began to speak hurriedly. “Conyngham has been taken,” he said. “His vessel and the prizes have been seized!” “By the English?” exclaimed Franklin, almost jumping this time to his feet, despite the remark about his leaping days. “No, sir; he surrendered himself and his sword to the keeping of the French Government. He and some of his men are in the French military prison.” “Did the English obtain possession of his papers?” anxiously inquired Franklin. “Not all of them, sir, for he sent you this, and bade me get it to your hands with all possible despatch.” He handed to Dr. Franklin as he spoke the big white packet that Conyngham had slipped into his brother’s hand. Franklin opened it nervously and glanced at the contents. Immediately he appeared greatly relieved. “Gentlemen,” he said, “you must both retire, and I suggest that you get much-needed rest and repair here to-morrow morning. In the meantime Mr. Deane and I will talk matters over. Will you breakfast with me here in the garden?” Ross and Hodge left in a few minutes, and Silas Deane and the good doctor were alone. “I wonder would it be possible for either of us to see de Vergennes to-morrow?” asked Franklin, as he placed in a large portfolio the papers that he had taken from the package. “He apparently wishes to avoid an interview with me,” replied Silas Deane, “for I have been unable to get at him for some time. But this is bad news about Conyngham. If he has been thrown into a French prison, it must still be at the instigation of the British authorities, and they will demand that he be handed over to them. They will call his doings by ugly names, I warrant you. There will be a flood of abuse and invective.” “And I have a good stop-gap for some of it,” was Franklin’s return. “I do not think that they will proceed to extremes. To-morrow I will see Maurepas, possibly Beaumarchais, and if needs be, the Queen.” Deane was forced to smile despite himself, for he well knew the rumors of the good doctor’s success with the fair sex; even the Queen had succumbed to his magnetic wit and personality, so it was but a bald statement of facts, and no boasting.