University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
THE PLOT THICKENS.

The narrow escape of Rosalie Du Pont
from the hands of the robbers, together with
a wild, exaggerated account of the whole tragic
affair, flew like lightning over the city,
and, in the absence of any thing more important,
caused a remarkable sensation—that is
to say, remarkable for people accustomed to
the thrilling events of an army life, with all
its morbid details, from a single assassination
up to the wholesale slaughter of hundreds in
the strife of battle. Of course, all who could
lay claim to the distinguished acquaintance of
our fair heroine, together with many others
who had never exchanged a word with her
in their lives, but who thought this a capital
time and pretext for forcing themselves upon
her notice, now hurried to the residence of
her uncle, and literally blockaded and besieged
her. She had not been half an hour
at home, and had scarcely finished giving her
horror struck kinswoman a recital of her
terrible adventures, when carriage after carriage,
containing the elite and distingue of the
town, rolled up to the door, all anxious to
wish her joy, and hear the particulars of the
event of the day from her own lips.

Rosalie had not calculated upon this, when
she invited Captain Milfored to accompany her
home, and listen to her history, and in consequence
both were disappointed.

“I must beg you to come another day,
Edgar,” she said—“unless you are willing to
encounter the tedium of so many fashionable
calls.”

“No, dearest, I thank you—I will take my
leave—for in my present state of mind, it
would not be agreeable for me to come in
contact with so many strangers, to be stared
at, questioned as the hero of your adventure.
But be careful of yourself, dear Rosalie, and
do not let them weary you to much—for you
are not yet strong, and great excitement and
fatigue might again prostrate you.”

“Shall I see you again to-morrow, dear Edgar?”

“I will not promise, for I know not what a
day may bring forth—but if I can, I will
call.”

“You must be sure and let me know when
your scheme is ripe for action.”

“I will endeavor to do so.”

“And, oh! be very, very careful of yourself,
for my sake! will you, dear Edgar?”

“Yes, dearest, yes. There, adieu;” and
pressing the band of Rosalie warmly, as he
held it at parting, for the presence of others
presented a more affectionate leave-taking,
the Captain took his departure.

From the mansion of Graham Percy, Captain
Milford proceeded direct to the residence
of the traitor, Arnold. He did not enter the
dwelling, however, but walking leisurely past
it, turned down a narrow street, or lane,
which divided it from another structure of
similar proportions, that also fronted on Broadway.
This lane led to an alley, which crossed
it at right angles, and ran along the rear of a
fine garden, which extended back from Arnold's
dwelling some two hundred feet. Fronting
on this rear alley—which, at the present
day, is a well-paved, commodious street—was
an old wooden building, in a dilapidated condition,
whose heavy, gloomy, peculiar style of
architecture, proclaimed it of Dutch construction,
and which, for all we know to the contrary,
might have been erected under the
Dutch dynasty.

When Milford came in front of this old
dwelling, which exhibited no signs of being
inhabited, he paused, and seemed to examine
it with an air of curiosity. Then looking up
and down the alley, and carefully around him,
in all directions, and perceiving not a living
soul, he glided to the rear of the crazy old
structure, and rapped with his knuckles on a
sogging, worm-eaten door, that, to all appearance,
might have been demolished with a
heavy blow of his fist.

Scarcely had the knock of our hero sounded
a dull echo through the dreary apartments of
the old building, when the decaying floorboards
creaked under the pressure of advancing
feet, and a moment after, the door stood
just sufficiently ajar to admit of his entrance.

“You seem to ask no questions to-day;
Mother Hagold,” said the Captain, as he passed
in, and closed the door behind him.

“No, cause I knowed who it was,” replied
the dame. “I was peeping out of one of the
holes in front, and seed you when you looked
up.”

“Well, any news since I was here?”

“No, nothing to mention. Arnold 'pears
to keep close to-day; he rode off about noon,
but came back a little while ago, with the
Colonel along with him.”

“Doubtless the Colonel will be his best
friend while his money lasts. I passed the
house just now, but saw no one stirring, only
the sentinel that he keeps on duty before his
door.”

“Guess there ain't much stirring in there
but cards, money, and wine,” replied the
dame; “them, I reckon, keep agoing pretty
regular when they two is together.”

“Well, I am glad to hear he is so well occupied.”

“ 'Spose you'd like to see the Sargeant?”

“Yes; is he here?” returned Milford,
quickly.

“He came about half an hour ago, and I
got him to wait, for I thought as how you
might drop in soon.”

“You did right; and now I would see him
at once.”

Dame Hagold led the way across a large,
dark room, with low ceiling, and a floor that
trembled under every step, to a rickety staircase,
by which she ascended to the second
story. Crossing another room similar to the
one below, she entered a narrow corridor,
where it was almost impossible to see at all;
and continuing along this a few paces, she
opened a door into an apartment which occupied

the entire front of the house. This was
the only room in the dwelling that was furnished;
and this contained merely a bed in
one corner, an old table, a half-dozen miserable
chairs, and some few household utensils,
necessary to the cooking and eating department.
The ceiling of this apartment was,
like all in the house, very low, and the windows
very small, with a few diamond-shaped
panes, set in lead, but so thick, green, and
dirty, that the light which struggled through
them was hardly sufficient to enable one to
read at noon-day. But besides these windows,
of which there were two, far apart,
there were several crevices in the wall next
the alley; and through these you could get a
much better idea of what was taking place
without, than through the windows themselves.
On an old chair, drawn up to one of
these crannies, sat Sergeant Champe. As
Milford entered, he said:

“Well, Captain, I am glad you have come.
What news?”

“I have sent off our first messenger,” replied
the other.

“Who?”

“George.”

“Has he really gone, then?”

“Yes, I saw him cross the river, myself.”

“I am truly glad to hear it. So much is
then accomplished. But we must work fast,
Captain.”

“I agree with you, that delay is dangerous.”

“More so, perhaps, than you are aware of.”

“Ha! any thing new?”

“Yes, they talk of embarking the legion
immediately.”

“This is bad news, certainly. What a
pity that you enlisted!”

“Had I not done so, they would have become
suspicious. Even now, I fear they
think all is not right.”

“This is serious, my friend; what do you
think has led to it?”

“I do not know. It is possible I may be
mistaken, but such is my impression.”

“Do you think Arnold suspects you?”

“I hardly know how to answer. Sometimes
I think he does, and at others think it
only my fancy. He is not so polite and affable
as he was.”

“I thought he would change his manners
whenever he could begin to fancy himself secure
in British favor. Depend upon it,
Champe, he, in his heart, only regards us as
stepping-stones by which to raise himself from
out the slimy depth of degradation into which
his dastardly villainy plunged him. He was
glad to see us, because he thought we should
help to make an acquisition from the American
army, that would give a shadow of truth
to his infamous bombast regarding his influence
to draw over to the British the best portion
of the American soldiery. He was glad
to talk to us, because he was isolated in his
new situation, knew that he was looked upon
with contempt by all honorable men, and felt
the need of company and sympathy. Beyond
these, he eared no more for us than he would
for any tools which he found necessary to use;
and, as I told you then, so I repeat, the moment
he finds himself established a welcome
companion of half a dozen red-coats, he will
treat us with the same disdain he would a
couple of sneaking dogs.”

“Well, Captain, you seem to take it to
heart; but what better could you expect of a
vile traitor? For my part, I care not what
he thinks, nor how he feels, so he does not
thwart our design.”

“Neither do I, Sergeant; neither do I,”
replied Milford, quickly. “Do not mistake
me! I am not thus bitter because I feel
slighted, in the remotest degree, by the withdrawal
of his favor; but when I witness the
proceedings of so foul a hypocrite, I can not,
for the life of me, avoid becoming excited
with honest indignation. But to come back
to the starting point. In the present state of
affairs, with a likelihood of being embarked at
any moment, what do you propose, Sergeant?”

“I hardly know what to reply. I think it
best we put our plan in operation as soon as
possible.”

“You mean, to seize him in the garden?”

“Yes.”

“Well, all here is prepared for that, and
yet we can not do it to-night.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is no boat ready to take
him across the river, and no one ready to receive
him when there.”

“True, true,” returned Champe, musingly.
“I do not like this delay; we should have
worked faster.”

“It is well I did not enlist when you did,”
said Milford.

“But if I am called away, you will be short
of help.”

“There is Carlini, besides my faithful follower,
Josh Snipe; and doubtless, in a strait,
we could depend upon Mother Hagold, here;
eh, good dame?”

“Yes, yes, Captain, you're right; I'll help
you with right good will, if you want me; and
you won't find me no trifle either, when I
once get my coat and breeches on.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I've dressed in men's clothes afore
now, and done sarvice, too, when bullets
warn't nothing like as scarce as hail-stones”

“Indeed! then you will really be a valuable
acquisition to our party,” returned Milford,
smiling.

“Only put me in a way to sarve Gineral
Washington and the liberty boys, and you
may count on me for one, at any rate. I can
load and fire a musket as well as the best on
'em; and if I live, I hope to see the day when
I shall be able to send a couple o' bullets
through the heads of Jack Sharp and Jim
Bolter, the scoundrels!”

“Jack Sharp and Jim Bolter!” exclaimed
Milford, in surprise, as he recalled the names
of the ruffians slain in the wood, but which
ragic circumstance he had not yet mentioned
to either of those present. “What do you
know, Dame Hagold, of those vile cut-throats!”

“What do I know on 'em!” almost
screamed the other, flushing up with passion,
at the remembrance of her wrongs. “What
do I know on 'em, does you ax? Why, they
was at the head of the Skinners, what burnt
me out a while ago; and if ever I put eyes
on 'em agin, with any thing dangerous in my
hands, the Lord have mercy on 'em!”

“Well, I do not think you will behold
them again among the living,” rejoined Milford;
and he proceeded to briefly narrate the
terrible events already known to the reader,
while the old woman and Champe listened
with breathless attention.

Nothing could exceed the delight manifested
by the fortune-teller, when she heard of
the death of her most bitter enemies; for
Milford was under the impression that both
were dead by this time, and so stated, he, of
course, knowing nothing of the bodies having
been removed, as the party of soldiers sent
out, with Josh as guide, had not yet returned.

“Ah! ha! ha! ha!” cried the dame, somewhat
wildly, rubbing her hands together, and
fairly dancing about the room. “I told them
so—I told them so. I told the wretches I'd
live to dance over their graves, and now my
prediction's come true. Reckon they've got
to a place by this time that's a good deal hotter
nor any they made on airth. Burn me
out agin, will they!—they said they'd do it
agin, and the next time my fat carcass should
help feed the flames; wonder who feels the
most flames now? Why, Captain, I could
hug you to my heart, and Josh, too, for knowing
you did the business to them imps of
Satan. O, I hain't felt so much joy for a
year. And poor Rosalie, too—the gal was
nigh going for't this time, sure. Another
narrow escape! Kind Providence watches
over her, I believe. She's had so many
perils lately—that adventur' in the country—
that fever, as like to took her off—and now
this here captur', that she 'scaped from so
wonderfully.”

“What do you mean by her adventure in
the country?” inquired Milford.

“What do I mean? why, don't you know?
But I remember now, you don't know nothing
about it; and now I recollect, it's a secret,
too; so I musn't tell you.”

Milford's curiosity, as may readily be believed,
was not a little excited by this reply;
but he was too much of a gentlemen to pry
into a secret intentionally withheld from him,
although he was resolved to question Rosalie
concerning it the first favorable opportunity

“You say these ruffians were Skinners,”
he said, changing the subject; “how, then, do
you account for their being within the British
lines?”

“Arter more plunder, you may depend,”
answered the fortune-teller. “I 'spose they've
carried on sech a high hand in the country,
and got off Scot-free for so long, that they
thought their good fortin' 'ud bear 'em out in
coming here. Who knows, but they'd an idea
of making their threat good, of burning me
out the second time, the black-hearted scoundrels!
O, I'd so liked to have been there, to
have helped 'em out o' this world;” and the
features of the dame assumed a truly ferocious
expression.

“Well, well, they have got their deserts,”
returned Milford; “at least one is dead, to my
certain knowledge, and I doubt not the other,
before this time; if not, he only remains for
the rope; so let them go. I should like to
know whether any of their vile companions
are in this vicinity.”

“Depend upon't, they didn't come alone;
they was too cowardly for that,” replied the
dame.

“Where is Josh?” now asked Champe.

“He went to guide a party of soldiers to
the fatal spot.”

“Is he to call here to-day?”

“I advised him to do so, if he could manage
so as to be certain of not being seen. Should
each of us, at different times, be seen coming
here, of course suspicion would be excited,
that some plot is in progress, and this might
result in the frustration of our design.”

“I have thought of that,” returned Champe,
“and I think we had better meet here no
more—especially in the day-time--in the night
of course, we run less risk.”

“Well, I agree with you; we are too near
the citadel of the enemy; and our scheme is
apparently so near success now, that to have
it frustrated, would almost be like taking the
traitor from our hands. Champe, as you say,
delay is dangerous; and I think, upon the
whole, we had better seize the traitor before
something unforeseen occurs to thwart our
plans.”

“Shall it be to-night?”

“No, I meant not so soon—though I would
it could be so.”

“And what is to prevent?”

“You remember we have no boat in readiness,
for one thing.”

“But can not one be procured?”

“Possibly, though it is uncertain. It is
now three o'clock; at least, and night will soon
set in.”

“So much the better—we can work the
faster and surer.”

“But the rest of our party?”

“Carlini is at home, and can be easily notified,
and you say Josh will be here, in all probability.
Besides, if he is not, we could manage
without him; and on further consideration,
perhaps it would be better that we should;
for although I do not doubt his fidelity, and
willingness to assist, I fear his tongue might
be tempted to wag at the wrong time, and a
chance word might ruin all”

“I think he will be discreet; we must make
him so, at all events; I should not like to attempt
the seizure without his knowledge. And
there is Rosalie Du Pont—I have promised
to give her notice when the scheme is ripe;
besides, we want the co-operation of men on
the other side, and they will not be there till
to-morrow night, at the soonest.”

“I see you are full of objections, Captain;
but nevertheless, I am for making the attempt
at all risks. We must trust something to
luck, of course; and if we can once get Arnold
on the other side, I think we are strong
enough to guard him.”

“But the boat—you forget that?”

“No, I forget nothing; but surely we have
one skiff, which, though small, we must make
answer.”

“Ay, but that is on the other side; you
seem to overlook the fact that young Nugent
crossed in it to-day.”

“Well, to do away with that objection, I
will swim over and get it, after dark.”

“I am as anxious as yourself, Sergeant;
but really, I fear we shall be too precipitate;
this should have been thought of before.”

“That is true; but I could not foreknow
the news I have heard to-day, of the intention
to embark the Legion immediately. The more
I think of it Captain, the more I fear delay
will prove fatal to our hopes; in fact I have a
presentiment that such will be the case.”

“I would I knew what is best,” returned
Milford, uneasily. “I should never forgive
myself, if we were to make a fatal mistake

now, either by precipitation or delay. Come,
Mother Hagold, what do you counsel?”

“Well,” replied the dame, “it isn't for a
woman like me to counsel such as you; but if
you think the thing can possibly be done, I
agree with the Sargent, that the sooner it's
done the better. As to the boat, I think I
can undertake to git one—though, mind you,
I won't promise for sartain. There's Giles
Broach, as lives on the East river side—a
clever old man, that I did a kindness for a
time ago, and who'll be willing, I dare say, to
do me a return—he's got jest sech a boat as
you want, and I think I could git it, without
suspicion being raised; but then how to git it
round here to the Hudson, would be the
trouble; for sentries is out all along the rivers,
as well as the water-guards, and it 'ud be almost
a miracle to 'scape 'em all.”

“There would be less risk in swimming the
river,” said Champe. “I think my plan the
best.”

“Well, let us see what we have to do,”
said Milford. “In the first place, we can do
nothing without a boat: hence, on the procuring
of that, rests even the possibility of all the
rest. Well, Sergeant, you say you can swim
the river and get that; but you can not attempt
such a thing before night sets in, and in
the meantime all must remain in suspense.
Well, we will suppose you are successful—
that you get the skiff, and get down the river,
nearly opposite here, without being discovered:
then some one must stay to guard it; and
as it requires a person of great caution to do
so, we will premise that you remain there,
while Carlini, Josh and myself operate here.”

“And why couldn't I guard the boat, as
well as the Sargeant?” put in the fortune teller.

“Perhaps you could—I did not think of
that,” returned the Captain. “Well, so much
the better; for then Champe would be at liberty
to act with us: we will consider it settled
thus, for the present, at all events. Now, then,
we come to the most delicate and hazardous
task—that of seizing Arnold. We have
watched the traitor narrowly, for the last few
days, and well do we know his habits—the
most favorable one for our project of which
is, and on which all our hopes of success rest,
that of walking up and down his garden,
alone, just before retiring for the night. Now
our plan of operation, to which all have assented,
and which I do not think can be changed
for the better, is for two of us to secrete ourselves
in the garden, in some bushes near this
alley, and the moment the traitor gets near
encugh, to justify the conclusion that we are
certain of our prey, to bound forward together,
place a hand over his mouth, throw him
upon his back, gag him, disarm him, bind his
arms, throw an ample cloak around him, press
a hat over his forehead, and then, one on
eitherside, conduct him into the alley, through
the pailings we have taken off, (but so replaced,
that a moments work will remove them),
and thence to guard him to the boat: and furthermore,
if we chance to meet a sentinel on
the way, we are to represent him as a drunken
soldier, whom we are taking to the lower
guard-house. This, I believe, is our plan,
Sergeant.”

“Yes, such is our plan, Captain, as I understand
it.”

“Well, now to be successful in this bold
undertaking, I think our party is not too
strong, all told. I would have one stationed
in this old building, on the lookout, who, in
the event of unexpected danger, might make
some signal agreed upon, to put the others
on their guard. I would have another concealed
by the loosened pailings, ready to come
to the assistance of the two in the garden,
should it be necessary, or to follow them quietly,
as the case may be. Now the first mentioned
duty, that of watching here, I would
assign to Josh; the second, that of standing
guard by the pailings, to Carlini; and the
third, that of seizing the traitor, to ourselves.
What say you to this disposition of our little
force, Champe?”

“I like your arrangement well, Captain,”
returned Champe, “and only regret there is a
possibility—I may, perhaps, say probability—
of our being obliged to delay its execution till
too late. Oh! would we had taken earlier
measures for bringing our scheme to an immediate
crisis! It is useless to repine now;
but remember, withal, I solemnly urge the
propriety, the necessity, of our acting in the
matter to-night.”

“Well, be it so, then,” rejoined Milford
anxiously. “I would that Josh were here.”

“By the by,” said Champe, after a pause,
“what do you think of this Signor Carlini?”

“That he is a wonderful man.”

“Have you faith in his power to predict
events by the science of the stars?”

“I neither believe, nor disbelieve, having
never tested it—I simply do not know. He
says there is truth in the science, and I know
no reason why he should tell us false.”

“What do you think of the peculiar influence
he exercised upon our inquisitive companion?”

“I do not know what to think—that perplexes
me more than all the rest. I do not
understand it; it seems something super-human:
yet it may be only a science, which is
not generally known. I have no faith in a
supernatural power being invested in a mere
mortal; and yet I am obliged to acknowledge
it was wonderful. I questioned Josh upon
the subject, but he could give me no information,
beyond the fact, that while Carlini stood
looking at him, he was unable to move a limb,
or take his eyes from the dark, fiery orbs of
the other.”

“Well,” returned Champe, “I agree with
you, Captain, that he is a wonderful man,
and one likely to make the most skeptical believe
in his wizzard-like powers. When we
consider the somewhat startling manner in
which a stranger is introduced into his presence,
(effected of course by ingenious mechanism,)
the room hung in black, the man himself,
and the remarkable power he does possess,
to astonish beyond comprehension, and
make a lasting impression upon those who
come to consult him—we can not be surprised
that he is regarded, by the ignorant and superstitious,
as a man leagued with the devil.”

Thus conversing, on various matters, an-other
half hour slipped away, when all were
somewhat startled, by hearing three distinct
raps on the door through which the Captain
had been admitted by Dame Hagold.

“I hope we are not suspected and ferreted
out!” said Milford, starting up.

“Quick!” said the dame, in a low, hurried
tone, as she threw open the door of the closet,
disclosing a ladder which led to a floor above,
close under the roof: “Quick! get in here,
mount, draw the ladder up arter ye, and lay
down the boards you find up there, while I
go and see who it is;” and as the others followed
her directions, she closed the closet
door locked it, and hastened down stairs.