The lieutenant in command of the first vedette line was not over-curious.  He asked me a few questions about the major’s plans and dispositions,—­questions which, thanks to Colonel Davie’s information, I was able to answer glibly enough, swallowed my tale whole, and was so obliging as to give me the password for the night to help me through the inner sentry lines.

Thus fortified, I rode on boldly, and having the countersign the difficulties vanished.  When I was come to town it was well past candle-lighting; and the patrol was out in force.  But by dint of using the password freely I made my way unhindered to the house of the gentleman to whom Colonel Davie’s letter accredited me.

Here, however, the difficulties began.  Though the camp of the army lay just without the town to the southward, the officers were quartered in every house, and that of Colonel Davie’s friend was full to overflowing.  What was to be done we knew not, but at the last moment my friend’s friend thought of an expedient and wrote a note for me whilst I waited, half in hiding, in the outer hall.

“’Tis a desperate chance, but these are desperate times,” said my would-be helper.  “I am sending you to the town house of one of our plantation seigneurs—­a man who is fish, flesh or fowl, as his interest demands.  I hear he came in to-day to take protection, and there is a chance that he will shelter you for the sake of your red coat and a gold piece or two.  But I warn you, you must be what you appear to be—­a soldier of the king—­and not what this note of Colonel Davie’s says you are.”

Seeing a wide field of danger-chances in this haphazarding, I would have asked more about this trimming gentleman to whom I was to be handed on; but at that moment there came a thundering at the door, and my anxious host was fain to hustle me out through the kitchen as he could, catching up a black boy on the way to be my guide.

“God speed you,” he said at parting.  “Make your footing good for the night, if you can, and we’ll see what can be done to-morrow.  I’ll send your portmanteau around in the morning, if so be Mr. Pettigrew has it.”

With that I was out in the night again, turning and doubling after my guide, who seemed to be greatly afeard lest I should come nigh enough to cast an evil eye upon him.

’Twas but a little distance we had to go, and I had no word out of my black rascal till we reached the door-stone of a familiar mansion but one remove from the corner of the court house green.  Here, with a stuttering “D-d-dis de house, Massa,” he fled and left me to enter as I could.

Since the street was busily astir with redcoat officers and men coming and going, and any squad of these might be the questioners to doubt my threadbare courier tale, I lost no time in running up the steps and hammering a peal with the heavy knocker.  Through the side-lights I could see that the wide entrance hall was for the moment unoccupied; but at the knocker-lifting I had a flitting glimpse of some one—­a little man all in sober black—­coming down the stair.  There was no immediate answer to my peal, but when I would have knocked again the door was swung back and I stepped quickly within to find myself face to face with—­Margery.