He had imparted some warmth to his tone, and his manner bore the appearance of geniality.  Robert, so susceptible to courtesy in others, began to find him less repellent.  He rejoined in the same polite manner, and Mynheer Van Zoon talked to him a little while as a busy man of middle age would speak to a youth.  He asked him of his experiences at Quebec, of which he had heard some rumor, and Robert, out of the fullness of his mind, spoke freely on that subject.

“Is it true,” asked Mynheer Van Zoon, “that David Willet in a duel with swords slew a famous bravo?”

“It’s quite true,” replied Robert.  “I was there, and saw it with my own eyes.  Pierre Boucher was the man’s name, and never was a death more deserved.”

“Willet is a marvel with the sword.”

“You knew him in his youth, Mynheer Van Zoon?”

“I did not say that.  It is possible that I was thinking of some one who had talked to me about him.  But, whatever thought may have been in my mind, David Willet and I are not likely to tread the same path.  I repeat, Master Lennox, that although my manner may have seemed to you somewhat brusque in the past, I wish you well.  Do you remain much longer in New York?”

“Only a few days, I think.”

“And you still find much of interest to see?”

“Enough to occupy the remainder of my time.  I wish to see a bit of Long Island, but tomorrow I go to Paulus Hook to find one Nicholas Suydam and to carry him a message from Colonel William Johnson, which has but lately come to me in the post.  I suppose it will be easy to get passage across the Hudson.”

“Plenty of watermen will take you for a fare, but if you are familiar with the oars yourself it would be fine exercise for a strong youth like you to row over and then back again.”

“It’s a good suggestion, as I do row, and I think I’ll adopt it.”

Mynheer Van Zoon passed on a moment or two later, and Robert, with his extraordinary susceptibility to a friendly manner, felt a pleasant impression.  Surely St. Luc, who at least was an official enemy, did not know the truth about Van Zoon!  And if the Frenchman did happen to be right, what did he have to fear in New York, surrounded by friends?

The evening progressed, but Mynheer Van Zoon left early, and then in the pleasures of the hour, surrounded by youth and brightness, Robert forgot him, too.  A banquet was served late, and there was such a display of silver and gold plate that the British officers themselves opened their eyes and later wrote letters to England, telling of the amazing prosperity and wealth of New York, as proven by what they had seen in the Walton and other houses.