"Good morning, Mr. Bradley," said the nobleman.
"My lord, turn back with me to my shop. I have something of the greatest importance to tell you."
Medway smiled: "My hunting is of the greatest importance at present, Mr. Bradley, for my friend, Colonel Pennington, is waiting for me; but if I can be of service——"
"I think you can; at least, listen to me."
Medway bent his head in acquiescence, and Bradley led the way to the small room behind his shop, which had been his sitting and dining room while his daughter was at school. He plunged at once into the subject of his anxieties.
"There was a prisoner taken last night."
"A young man in a boat; I heard of it. General Clinton thinks they may have made an important arrest."
"He is my son—my only son! I did not know until an hour ago that he was in America. I sent him to England at the beginning of the war—to a fine school there—and I thought he was safe; and he has been here, one of Washington's scouts, carrying messages from camp to camp, in and out of New York in all kinds of disguises, spreading reports and gathering reports, buying medicines, and clothing, and what not; doing, in short, duties which in every case were life and death matters. For three years or more he has done these things safely; last night he was discovered."
"And you thought he was in England, safe and comfortable, and learning his lessons?"
"I did, and thanked God for it."