At the sound of his name Captain Plum started as though an unexpected hand had suddenly been laid upon him.  So he was expected, after all, and his name was known!  For a moment his surprise robbed him of the power of speech.  The little old man had lighted his candle, and, grinning back over his shoulder, passed through a narrow cut in the wall that could hardly be called a door and planted his light on a table that stood in the center of a small room, or closet, not more than five feet square.  Then he coolly pulled Captain Plum’s old letter from his pocket and smoothed it out in the dim light.

“Be seated, Captain Plum; right over there—­opposite me.  So!”

He continued for a moment to smooth out the creases in the letter and then proceeded to read it with as much assurance as though its owner were a thousand miles away instead of within arm’s reach of him.  Captain Plum was dumfounded.  He felt the hot blood rushing to his face and his first impulse was to recover the crumpled paper and demand something more than an explanation.  In the next instant it occurred to him that this action would probably spoil whatever possibilities his night’s adventure might have for him.  So he held his peace.  The old man was so intent in his perusal of the letter that the end of his hooked nose almost scraped the table.  He went over the dim, partly obliterated words line by line, chuckling now and then, and apparently utterly oblivious of the other’s presence.  When he had come to the end he looked up, his eyes glittering with unbounded satisfaction, carefully folded the letter, and handed it to Captain Plum.

“That’s the best introduction in the world, Captain Plum—­the very best!  Ho, ho!—­it couldn’t be better.  I’m glad I found it.”  He chuckled gleefully, and rested his ogreish head in the palms of his skeleton-like hands, his elbows on the table.  “So you’re going back home—­soon?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet, Dad,” responded Captain Plum, pulling out his pipe and tobacco.  “You’ve read the letter pretty carefully, I guess.  What would you do?”

“Vermont?” questioned the old man shortly.

“That’s it.”

“Well, I’d go, and very soon, Captain Plum, very soon, indeed.  Yes, I’d hurry!” The old man jumped up with the quickness of a cat.  So sudden was his movement that it startled Captain Plum, and he dropped his tobacco pouch.  By the time he had recovered this article his strange companion was back in his seat again holding a leather bag in his hand.  Quickly he untied the knot at its top and poured a torrent of glittering gold pieces out upon the table.

“Business—­business and gold,” he gurgled happily, rubbing his thin hands and twisting his fingers until they cracked.  “A pretty sight, eh, Captain Plum?  Now, to our account!  A hundred carbines, eh?  And a thousand of powder and a ton of balls.  Or is it in lead?  It doesn’t make any difference—­not a bit.  It’s three thousand, that’s the account, eh?” He fell to counting rapidly.