My Lady of Doubt Part 31

"You can be a.s.sured."

"Mistress Claire," broke in Peter, "some one is riding up the road."

"Yes, Peter, yes. Major, wait here! Don't move. We will go back and meet him."

I held my horse steady, although he made an effort to follow. Voices came back to me through the darkness,--Grant's loud enough to be clearly heard.

"What, is this you, Claire?" he laughed gruffly. "By all the G.o.ds, I thought it must be Eric. I never expected to find you togged out in this style. By Jove, I could wish it was daylight."

Whatever she replied must have sobered the fellow.

"Everything I say you take wrongly. Of course it's all right, for the country is full of stragglers out of both armies. Lord, I don't care what you wear, as long as it suits you. My business? Oh, I explained all that to your putty-faced servant--Saint Anne! that fellow! But I'll review the matter again. I'm drumming up Clinton's deserters, but now I've met you, I'm tempted to go along with you as far as Elmhurst."

"Become a deserter yourself?"

"Oh, no, or at least only temporarily. There will be plenty of fighting yet in the Jerseys. Clinton's whipped all right, and is going to have a time getting away to the ships. In my judgment there will be richer picking for a Jerseyman right here at home, than with the army in New York."

There was a moment's silence; then the girl asked, a shade of horror in her voice:

"Surely you cannot mean to ally yourself with guerillas, Captain Grant?

With--with f.a.gin?"

The man laughed, but mirthlessly.

"That would be horrible, wouldn't it? Well, personally I fail to see why f.a.gin is any more of a scoundrel than some of these other fellows in gilt epaulets. However, I've not come to that point yet. The fact is I have a private affair to attend to before I leave this neighborhood. Can you guess what it is?"

"I? Certainly not."

"Well, you will know shortly--the ambulance is coming."

I rode my horse slowly forward, keeping at the edge of the road, until a.s.sured a sufficient distance separated us. Then I gave the restive animal a sharp touch of the spur, sending him swiftly forward. My escort would have a mile or two the start, yet that was nothing. My thoughts were not with them, or with my military duty, but reverted to the little company around the wounded man. The bearing of the despatch to Arnold was mere routine, involving only steady riding, but the relations existing between Claire, Grant, and Eric Mortimer were full of mystery. There were connecting links I could not understand; no doubt had the girl been permitted to conclude her story I might fit it together, but as it was I was left groping in the darkness. Yet my mind tenaciously held to its original theory as to Eric's strange disappearance--he had been betrayed by Grant, and was being held prisoner. But where? By whom? And for what purpose?

I pondered on this problem as my horse ploughed forward through the dust, my eyes unconsciously scanning the dark road. Grant could not have known that Colonel Mortimer was being taken home. His meeting with the ambulance party was altogether an accident. Yet I had no faith the man was out seeking British stragglers, for had he been despatched on such a mission he would have had at least a squad of soldiers with him. Then what? The probability was that he was either riding to Elmhurst, or to some rendezvous with f.a.gin. Some plan had been interrupted by Clinton's sudden march, by the British defeat at Monmouth, and Grant was risking his commission, braving the charge of desertion, for some private purpose. This might be love of Claire, revenge upon Eric, or possibly both combined. The latter would seem most probable. He would use Eric in some way to threaten the sister, to compel her to sacrifice herself. She was of a nature to do this, as was already abundantly proved by her a.s.sumption of male attire to save Eric's reputation. My own responsibility loomed large as I reached this conclusion, and remembered her appeal for help. She, also, must suspect the truth, and had turned to me as the only one capable of unravelling the mystery. She trusted me, loved me, I now believed--and, under G.o.d, I would prove worthy her faith.

With teeth clinched in sudden determination I caught up with my little squad of plodding hors.e.m.e.n, and, with word of command, hurried them into a sharp trot.

Riding ahead, boot to boot with Conroy, I thought out a plan for action, and finally, in the gray of the morning, told him enough of the story to arouse his interest. Just before sunrise we pa.s.sed Elmhurst, the great white mansion appearing silent and deserted. There was no halting, although we turned in the saddle to look, and my eyes swept over the troopers trotting behind us. They were a st.u.r.dy lot, their faces bronzed from exposure, their uniforms stained and dust-covered.

"Regulars?" I asked, nodding back across my shoulder.

"Not a man but has seen two-years' service," he replied proudly.

"Hamilton knows the troop, and he picked us out."

"I may need them for a bit of desperate work."

"They'll do it, sir, never fear."

"Good, sergeant; we'll ride hard, and trust to getting fresh horses in Philadelphia. I'll tell Arnold the story. When we arrive there have your men get all the sleep they can. I'll attend to rations and ammunition.

You are simply to have the men rested and ready. Cannot we make better time? The horses seem in good condition."

We pa.s.sed swiftly over the level country, meeting a few stragglers, but paying them small attention. Farrell's shop was closed and locked, and we halted there merely long enough to water our animals. The road was now clear to the river, although we pa.s.sed numerous footmen wearily trudging westward. These were army riffraff, however, few being in uniform. By two o'clock we were on the banks of the Delaware, and a half-hour later, I swung down stiffly from the saddle in front of Arnold's headquarters on High Street.

He was an officer I never greatly liked, with his snapping eyes and arrogant manner, but he was courteous enough on this occasion, questioning me after reading the despatch, and offering me a gla.s.s of wine.

"You look tired, Major, and must rest before you start back. I shall have my report ready by sundown."

"General Arnold," I said, standing respectfully hat in hand, "I have a favor to ask,--that you will send your report by some other messenger, and give me a detail for special service."

He looked up in surprise.

"Special service, sir! But you are not a.s.signed to my command."

"That is true, General," I insisted, "but the conditions warrant the unusual application."

"What service is contemplated?"

"An attempt to kill or capture Red f.a.gin, and release a scout whom I believe he holds prisoner."

"You hope to accomplish all this alone?"

"With the a.s.sistance of the sergeant and ten dragoons who came here with me. They are in camp now on the Jersey sh.o.r.e."

He walked across the room, stared out of the window, and then again faced me.

"By Gad, sir, this is a most extraordinary request. Damme, I'd like to get hold of f.a.gin all right, but I need to know more of your plan, and the reason you have for asking such a detail. It looks foolhardy to my mind."

I went over the situation carefully, watching the effect of my words in the man's face. He sat at the table now, leaning forward eagerly. Arnold had the reputation of a gallant, and my first reference to a young lady aroused him.

"The name, please--you mentioned no name."

"Claire Mortimer, sir."

"Ah! Ah! I remember her well. Danced with her myself. Now go on, sir; I can appreciate the tale better from my recollection of the fair heroine."

I was not long at it, although he interrupted me occasionally by shrewd questioning. As I concluded he kept silent a moment, looking at me from under his heavy brows.

"It looks like rather a blind trail to me, Major," he said kindly, "but I'm no spoil-sport in such an affair. You might have the luck to stumble onto your party, and I'd take the chance myself if I were in your shoes.

You wish to start at sunset?"

"Yes, sir."

"You need horses, rations, and pistol ammunition for twelve men?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, Major, the quartermaster will attend these details. Go and lie down. Washington may not approve, but I'll take the responsibility."

He extended his hand across the table, and I felt the firm clasp of his fingers.