Washington had his secret correspondents in New York, and from them had learned that Arnold was living in quarters adjoining those of Sir Henry Clinton, at but a short distance from the river, and apparently with no thought of or precaution against danger.  It might be possible to seize him and carry him away bodily from the midst of his new friends.

Sending for Major Henry Lee, a brave and shrewd cavalry leader, Washington broached to him this important matter, and submitted a plan of action which seemed to him to promise success.

“It is a delicate and dangerous project,” he said.  “Much depends on our finding an agent fit for such hazardous work.  You may have the man in your corps.  Whoever volunteers for this duty will lay me under the greatest personal obligation, and may expect an ample reward.  But no time is to be lost.  He must proceed, if possible, to-night.”

“Not only courage and daring, but very peculiar talent, are needed for such an enterprise,” said Lee.  “I have plenty of brave men, but can think of only one whom I can recommend for such a duty as this.  His name is John Champe; his rank, sergeant-major, but there is one serious obstacle in the way,—­he must appear to desert, and I fear that Champe has too high a sense of military honor for that.”

“Try him,” said Washington.  “The service he will do to his country far outweighs anything he can do in the ranks.  Rumor says that other officers of high rank are ready to follow Arnold’s example.  If we can punish this traitor, he will have no imitators.”

“I can try,” answered Lee.  “I may succeed.  Champe is not without ambition, and the object to be attained is a great one.  I may safely promise him the promotion which he ardently desires.”

“That will be but part of his reward,” said Washington.

Lee sent for Champe.  There entered in response a young man, large and muscular of build, saturnine of countenance; a grave, thoughtful, silent person, safe to trust with a secret, for his words were few, his sense of honor high.  In all the army there was not his superior in courage and persistence in anything he should undertake.

It was no agreeable surprise to the worthy fellow to learn what he was desired to do.  The plan was an admirable one, he admitted, it promised the best results.  He did not care for peril, and was ready to venture on anything that would not involve his honor; but to desert from his corps, to win the scorn and detestation of his fellows, to seem to play the traitor to his country,—­these were serious obstacles.  He begged to be excused.

Lee combated his objections.  Success promised honor to himself and to his corps, the gratitude of his country, the greatest service to his beloved commander-in-chief.  Desertion, for such a purpose, carried with it no dishonor, and any stain upon his character would vanish when the truth became known.  The conference was a long one; in the end Lee’s arguments proved efficacious; Champe yielded, and promised to undertake the mission.