University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.
THE QUARREL AND THE ALARM.

In a small, well-arranged cabinet, on the
ground floor, which could be entered through
a larger apartment, or by a private staircase
that led down to the garden, General Arnold
and Colonel Malpert were seated, a few hours
subsequent to the events of the preceding
chapter. A small mahogany table stood be
tween the two, and on this lay cards, and two
large piles of money. A chandalier, with
numerous sconces, in which were set burning
wax tapers, was suspended to the ceiling, directly
over the table, and threw a strong light
upon the features of our two worthies. The
faces of both were flushed, as if from wine,
of which there were some three or four kinds,
standing on a side-board, within reaching distance.
Arnold's face was not only flushed,
but there was a kind of intense anxiety, of
almost wild excitement, displayed in its expression,
which may be frequently seen on
the countenance of a desperate gambler, when
fickle fortune turns against him, and he resolves
to retrieve his loss or lose the last penny
he has in the world. In rather striking contrast
to the features of the host, were those of
his companion. He did not exactly smile;
but his face expressed a secret self satisfaction,
a sort of suppressed triumph, which told, as
plainly as expression could tell, that he was
the winner, and that he had very good reasons
for believing he was likely to remain so.

For some time the game continued without
a word being spoken on either side, during
which the pile of money on Arnold's side of
the board, gradually decreased, while that of
his opponent increased in the same ratio. At
length, the whole of Arnold's was staked, and
immediately after raked down by the Colonel,
who looked up with an expression, which
seemed to say, “Will you venture more to-night?”

The traitor was much excited. He looked
at the board, at the cards, at the money, and
then exclaimed, with an oath, as if in answer
to the other's look:

“Yes, I'll try you another hundred.”

He reached over for one of the bottles,
filled a drinking cup of silver, and drained it
at a draught. He then pushed it to the Colonel,
who filled the cup in like manner, and
placed it to his lips. But, unlike Arnold, he
did not drain it. He watched his opportunity,
and while the other was occupied in getting
a hundred pound note, threw it out of
the window, smacking his lips at the same
time, and saying:

“Ah! that is capital wine, my dear General

—capital!—the real juice of the grape, and
no mistake. I have reason to fear such wine
as that, General; for I am fain to attribute
some of my ill luck to that.”

“You don't seem to have any ill luck lately,
Colonel, returned the traitor, as he handed
the other the note already referred to, and
proceeded to draw a hundred sovereigns from
the heap of money which still lay loose upon
the table. “Five hundred pounds you were
winner yesterday, three hundred the day before,
and these one hundred sovereigns are
all that remain of one thousand to-day.”

“Yes, I have had rather good luck for a
day or two, I will admit,” rejoined the Colonel;
“but then, my dear General, you must
consider how much I lost before.”

“Ay, sir, eight hundred pounds altogether,
which leaves you, at this moment, nine hundred
the gainer.”

“Which I may lose again this very sitting.
Ah, General, were it not for the ups and
downs in this game, I fear there would be
very little pleasure in it—it would soon become
very tiresome.”

“Well, give me the ups, and I care little
who has the downs,” said Arnold.

“I believe you, upon my honor,” returned
Malpert, with a smile so equivocal, that the
other was at a loss whether to regard it as
ironacal, or as a species of pleasantry.

“Well, come, shuffle the cards, Colonel,
and let us to business, for it is waxing fate.”

“Then you are determined to play more,
eh?”

“Yes, till I win your pile, or lose mine.”

“Have at you then,” returned the Colonel,
shuffling the cards, and pushing them over to
the other to cut. “A sovereign ante, I suppose,
the same as before?”

“Yes,” replied Arnold, tossing one on the
gold pieces upon the center of the table,
where Malpert mated it by a similar coin.

The cards being dealt, and Arnold having
examined his hand, pushed up fifty sovereigns
to the ante, without speaking. His opponent
pushed up ninety-nine.

“Ha! I see you mean to tempt me to stake
the last penny,” said Arnold. “I call you,”
he added, pushing up his remaining forty-nine
pieces.

“Three aces and two jacks,” answered
Malpert, throwing down his hand.

“Beat again, by —!' cried Arnold,
springing up from the table. “And I was so
sure of winning!” he added, showing three
kings and two tens.

“We both had powerful hands, it seems,”
returned Malpert, as he quietly raked down
the money. “Shall we try it again, General?”

“No, no—not to-night—not to-night,” replied
the other quickly: “a thousand pounds
is enough to lose in one day—I might almost
say at one sitting”

“It is nearly twelve, too,” rejoined Malpert,
looking at his watch.

As he was about replacing it in his fob,
Arnold suddenly moved the table from between
himself and the other, and catching
Malpert by the wrist, drew a card from his
sleeve, and held it up before him, while his
own features assumed a look of diabolical
rage.

“Can you tell me what that is, sir?” he demanded,
fiercely.

For a moment or two, the Colonel was taken
completely aback, and looked confused
and embarrassed; but he was too old a practitioner
in roguery, to be long off his guard,
for the single circumstance of being detected
in cheating, albeit he deeply regretted its
having occurred with a victim he had just
fairly begun to fleece. Summoning all his
coolness, impudence, and effrontery to his
aid, he soon recovered his wonted composure,
and looking quietly at the colored paste-board,
which Arnold, fairly trembling with suppressed
rage, held before him, he replied, with the
greatest sang froid:

“Why, that is a card, dear General, I do
believe.”

“Don't dear general me, sir, any more!”
cried Arnold, ready to burst with passion.
“You think that is a card, do you?—you are
certain of it, are you?—look sharp, and be
sure!—it is a card, is it?”

“It is, upon my honor,” replied Malpert, as
if answering some serious question of mighty
import.

“Say rather upon your cheating, for honor
you have none,” rejoined Arnold, with savage

sarcasm. “Well, sir, it is a card, you admit;
now look again, and you will see, by what
seems a rather singular coincidence, that it is
an ace.”

“It is, indeed,” returned Malpert, gravely,
looking at the card, as if it were a curiosity.
“Yes, a card, and an ace,” he added; “singular
coincidence, truly.”

“And found in your sleeve, sirrah!”

“Well, yes, I believe it was.”

“And by aces you just now won a hundred
pounds!”

“An indisputable fact, as I'm a gentleman.”

“Well, sir, please to tell me how I came to
find that card in your sleeve!”

“I do not know, I'm sure; shouldn't be
surprised to learn you saw it there, as it were
by accident.”

“No sir—I mean to ask you how the card
came to be there?” thundered Arnold, stamping
his foot violently.

“O, ah! yes—you wish to know how the
card came to be there? Yes, I understand
you now. Well, my dear General, I put it
there.”

“You did? you put it there? you admit
it?” roared Arnold, almost black in the face
with passion. “Sir, allow me then to pronounce
you a cheating scoundrel!”

“And who says it?” quietly asked the
other.

“I, sir—I say it! and repeat it!”

“And, pray who and what are you?”pursued
Malpert, in a sneering, cutting tone of
irony. “If I am a cheating scoundrel, who
only cheat a knave, pray what are you, that
thought to betray your own countrymen for
gold? who have not only cheated the gallows
of its due, but let an honest man be hung in
your place! It is highly becoming in one
like you to recriminate—forgetful, while you
throw stones, that you live in a glass house, of
so frail a structure that one blow may demolish
it.”

“Colonel Malpert, this is heaping insult
on insult,” cried Arnold, furiously.

“It is telling a plain truth, nevertheless,
returned the other, drily.

“You have robbed me, sir!”

“▮ And you the King's treasury. I only
have the double honor of stealing from a thie
and a traitor.”

Arnold fairly foamed with rage; and it was
some time ere his worst passions, now raised
to the highest pitch, would allow him to articulate
a syllable in reply.

“Sir!” he said, at length—“this insolence
is unbearable!—and, by —! I will have
satisfaction!”

“At any time, and in any manner you
please,” was the quiet rejoinder.

“Leave my house, sir!” stamped Arnold,
who really did not care to meet the other under
the circumstances, particularly as he knew
him to be a dead shot, and one of the best
swordsmen in the army.

“I shall quit your house with pleasure, replied
Malpert, who, although of a rash and
fiery nature, had, throughout the altercation,
shown a wonderful self-command, not even
allowing his voice to rise above an ordinary
tone of speech.

“And never dare to darken my doors
again!” pursued the traitor, who chafed like
a tormented ox, at the other's quiet indifference
and nonchalance.

“As you please,” returned Malpert, preparing
to depart.

“Quick! sir—begone! ere I throw you
from the window!” continued Arnold, beginning
to pace up and down the room.

“Nay, if that is your game, I may as well
take a hand,” was the cool response of the
Colonel, as be again threw himself upon a
seat, keeping his eye steadily fixed upon the
other.

Arnold stopped short in front of the Colonel,
and for a moment or two glared upon
him, his face wearing a truly ferocious expression.
He fairly trembled with rage, and more
than once seemed on the point of springing
upon his adversary; but whether that cool
blue eye of the other, which now appeared
lighted by a latent fire, that made it fearful to
look upon, restrained him—or whether he felt
it a sort of disgrace to attack a man in his own
house—are matters unnecessary for us to decide;
though we feel we risk nothing for veracity
in saying, that the two combined exercised
a controlling influence; certain it is,

however, he did not attempt to put his threat
in execution, but resumed his walk up and
the room, in scornful silence.

Malpert sat and watched him for some five
minutes; but save a rather more sinister expression
than usual, which had gradually settled
upon his countenance, together with a
slight curl of the lips, which formed a sneering
smile, a stranger would have seen nothing
in his looks, to indicate the bitter, deadly hatred
he felt toward the man he had so lately
termed his friend. At length he slowly rose,
deliberately poured out a cup of wine, drank
if off, looked at his watch, and said, in a very
bland tone:

“Upon my honor, it is midnight: really, I
must be going. Adieu, Brigadier, till we
meet again;” and with this sarcastic valedictory,
which met with no response, he coolly
walked out of the cabinet, closing the door
behind him.

The moment he was alone, Arnold threw
himself heavily upon the seat, placed his arms
upon the table, and rested his face upon them.
For the space of half an hour, he did not once
change his position; and only his labored respiration,
which made his chest heave and fall,
was audible.

At length he arose, threw off a cup of wine,
took two or three hasty turns up and down
the room, and then descended to the garden,
by the back stair-caise already mentioned.

The night was cloudy, dark, and rather
raw, but it had not yet rained, and the cold
breeze came with soothing power upon the
traitor's feverish temples. For several min
utes he paced to and fro, in that part of the
garden nearest his dwelling; but at length he
altered his course, and walked slowly down
the central avenue, toward the rear paling,
whice divided his grounds from the back street
or alley, as described in a previous chapter.
On the inside of this paling was a dense
shrubbery—it could not appropriately be
termed a hedge—and as Arnold drew near to
this, he suddenly paused and listened, for he
fancied he heard a slight rustling of the
bushes.

“It was the breeze, doubtless,” he muttered
to himself, and was about to resume his walk
in the same direction, when he was startled
by hearing a peculiar signal, and, at the same
moment, a voice in a low, guarded tone, say.

“Quick! save yourselves! you are watched,
and a night-guard is secretly advancing upon
you;” and as this was said, the traitor heard
what sounded like the stealthy steps of more
than one person gliding away down the alley.

“What, ho! guard! quick! or you will
lose them!” shouted Arnold, who, knowing
nothing of the parties, little dreamed how
near he had been to being kidnapped—be
naturally supposing them to be robbers, prowling
about, perhaps with a view to break into
his own premises for mere plunder.

There was a heavy trampling sound, as of
men running, in answer to the call of the
traitor; and presently the word “Halt,” rang
out clear and distinct, directly opposite him,
but on the other side of the paling, in the
street.

“Who hare you that called hus?” demanded
the same voice, and which, had the
reader been there, he would have instantly
recognized as belonging to Corporal Jones.

“General Arnold,” was the reply.

“Did you 'ere any body, General?” inquired
the Corporal.

“Yes, and they have fled down the street;
and while you stand there, like a blockhead,
they are making their escape.”

“They?” echoed the perplexed Corporal
with marked emphasis. “I don't 'alf hunderstand
it; we wasn't hafter no they; we was
hafter another scamp. We've been fooled
hagin, I think; but hif they've gone, whom-ever
they be, we'll hafter 'em. March! quick
step!” and at the last words, Arnold could
hear the soldiers running down the street.

“This is strange!” mused the perplexed
General; and he pushed his way through the
shrubbery to the paling, and endeavored to
peer over the pickets into the street; but
the night was so dark as to render his range
of vision very limited, and he saw nothing
worthy of notice.

For a few moments he could hear the trampling
of human feet, gradually growing fainter
and more faint, till at last the sound died
away altogether, and only the soughing of a

cold, damp breeze was audible. He stood a
few moments longer, to let the breeze fan his
feverish brow. As he was on the point of
turning away, he heard the distant challenge
of a sentinel; but the pass-word was doubtless
given, for again all became still.

“I must inquire into this business to-morrow,”
he said, as he pushed his way back to
the garden, and returned to the house.

The moment the door closed behind him,
the shrubbery was agitated by something more
than the wind; two dusky figures glided up
to one corner of the paling, emerged into the
street, and quickly disappeared in the darkness.