I was amazed at his insight.  And for the moment was impelled to make a clean breast of my suspicions,—­nay, of my convictions of the whole devil’s plot.  But I had no proofs.  I remembered that to the colonel my uncle was a gentleman of respectability and of wealth, and a member of his Excellency’s Council.  That to accuse him of scheming for my inheritance would gain me nothing in Mr. Washington’s esteem.  And I caught myself before I had said aught of Mr. Allen’s conduct that evening.

“Have you confronted this rector with his perfidy, Richard?” he asked.

“I have, colonel, at my first opportunity.”  And I related how Mr. Allen had come to the Hall, and what I had said to him, and how he had behaved.  And finally told of the picquet we now had during lessons, not caring to shield myself.  Both listened intently, until the captain broke out.  Mr. Washington’s indignation was the stronger for being repressed.

“I will call him out!” cried Captain Daniel, fingering his sword, as was his wont when angered; “I will call him out despite his gown, or else horse him publicly!”

“No, my dear sir, you will do nothing of the kind,” said the colonel.  “You would gain nothing by it for the lad, and lose much.  Such rascals walk in water, and are not to be tracked.  He cannot be approached save through Mr. Lionel Carvel himself, and that channel, for Mr. Carvel’s sake, must be closed.”

“But he must be shown up!” cried the captain.

“What good will you accomplish?” said Mr. Washington; “Lord Baltimore is notorious, and will not remove him.  Nay, sir, you must find a way to get the lad from his influence.”  And he asked me how was my grandfather’s health at present.

I said that he had mended beyond my hopes.

“And does he seem to rejoice that you are of the King’s party?”

“Nay, sir.  Concerning politics he seems strangely apathetic, which makes me fear he is not so well as he appears.  All his life he has felt strongly.”

“Then I beg you, Richard, take pains to keep neutral.  Nor let any passing event, however great, move you to speech or action.”

The captain shook his head doubtfully, as tho’ questioning the ability of one of my temper to do this.

“I do not trust myself, sir,” I answered.

He rose, declaring it was past his hour for bed, and added some kind things which I shall cherish in my memory.  As he was leaving he laid his hand on my shoulder.

“One word of advice, my lad,” he said.  “If by any chance your convictions are to come to your grandfather’s ears, let him have them from your own lips.”  And he bade me good night.

The captain tarried but a moment longer.

“I have a notion who is to blame for this, Richard,” he said.  “When I come back from New York, we shall see what we shall see.”

“I fear he is too slippery for a soldier to catch,” I answered.