“Ye must pardon this intrusion, Sir William,” explained Lord Clowes, as Howe, in surprise, faced about, “but we have just caught a spy red-handed, and an important one at that, being none less than Colonel Brereton, an aide of Mr. Washington.  Bring him forward, sergeant.”

As Jack was led into the strong light, Mrs. Loring started to her feet with a scream, echoed by an exclamation of “By God!” from one of the officers, while the three or four glasses at Howe’s place were noisily swept into a jumble by the impulsive swing of the general’s arm as he threw himself backward and rested against the table.

“Charlie, Charlie!” cried Mrs. Loring.  “You here?”

Standing rigidly erect, the aide said coldly, “My name is John Brereton; nor have I the honour of your acquaintance.”

“What’s to do here?” ejaculated Lord Clowes.  “I know the man to be what he says, and that he has come in disguise within our lines to spy.”

Without looking at the commissary, Jack answered:  “I wore no disguise when I passed through your lines, nor have I for a moment laid aside my uniform.”

“Call ye those rags a uniform?” jeered the commissary.

Howe gave a hearty laugh.  “Why, yes, baron,” he answered.  “Know you not the rebel colours by this time?”

“And how about the domino he wears over them, and the mask I hold in my hand?” contended Lord Clowes.

“I procured them this evening at the Franklin house in Second Street, as you will learn by sending some one to inquire, merely to attend the ball.”

A second exclamation broke from Mrs. Loring:  “Then ’t was you I mistook for—­Sir William, I thought ’t was you from his figure.”

Again the general laughed.  “Ho, Loring,” said he to one of the officers.  “What say you to that?”

“Take and hang me, or send me to the pest hole you kill your prisoners in, but let me get away from here,” raged Jack, white with passion, as he gave a futile wrench in an attempt to free his hands.

“Art so anxious to be hanged, boy?”

“’T is a fit end to a life begun as mine was!” answered the aide.

“Oh, Sir William,” spoke up Janice,” he did not come to spy, but only to see me.  You will not hang him for that, surely?”

“Yoicks!  Must you snare, even into the hangman’s noose, every one that looks but at you, Miss Janice?  If the day ever comes when the innocent no longer swing for the guilty, ’t is you will be hung.”

“We lose time over this badinage, Sir William,” complained the commissary, angrily.  “The fellow is a spy without question.”

“He is not,” cried Mrs. Loring; “and he shall not even be a prisoner.  You will not hold him, Sir William, when he came but to see the maid he loves?”

“Come, sir,” said the general.  “Wilt ask thy life of me?”

“No.  And be damned to you!”

“You see, Jane.”

“I care not what he says; you shall let him go free.”