"Au revoir," answered Louis, with equal lightness. "I know my betrothed will rejoice to see your letter."
In one of the darkest cells of the old Provost sat Haym Salomon with chains about his wrists and ankles. From the courtyard he could hear the merry laughter of the British soldiers and their Hessian comrades as they smoked and jested after their evening meal. Like true soldiers, they took it all in a day's work and there seemed to be no lack of spirits among them even if they were assigned the grim task of hanging a man upon the morrow. And Haym Salomon, being condemned to death by a military court, smiled his grave, gentle smile to hear their mirth. He had played the game of chance and he had lost, so why should he complain?
Down the damp corridor came the shuffling of feet and a moment later Jonas Schmidt entered, a lantern in one hand, a straw basket on his arm. "Your wife has sent you something for your evening meal," he said gruffly, placing the basket on the bench beside the condemned man. He spoke loudly as he noticed a red-coated Briton loitering at the end of the passage. "Faith, she has sent you enough to feed a regiment. But women are ever foolish. My own wife is waiting for me below. She has come all the way to New York merely for advice about our milch heifer and traveled weighted down with cakes and eggs and butter—which all her careful packing could not shield enough from the August sun, and it has oozed through her finest linen napkin and she is sorely grieved. But not an egg is broken and tomorrow Sir Henry Clinton will eat eggs laid by loyal Tory hens for his breakfast with my compliments."
Haym glanced sharply at his old friend who seldom indulged in such lengthy speech. He was about to the basket, touched at his poor wife's thoughtfulness, when the jailor gave a warning gesture and tiptoed to the door. Then he came back, nodding, well pleased at his own craft.
"The lobster has disappeared," he whispered. "I thought that my chatter would mislead him. But we have not a minute to lose. Open the basket and dress quickly in the woman's raiment you find there." Then, as Haym stared at him bewildered, "Dress, I say," and he pulled from the basket a calico dress, tightly rolled, a gay shawl and a woman's deep straw bonnet. "When you were pronounced guilty—and every man in New York knew what the outcome of your trial would be—I said that I for one would not have your blood upon my hands. No, no, Haym Salomon. You may be an infidel Jew, but you are a better Christian than all who worship in Trinity Church every Sabbath. By the will of God, my son passed through New York on his way home for a moment's visit with his mother. I entrusted him with a letter I dared not send through the post, telling her to come to me at once, bringing a set of garments exactly like those she herself would wear." He chuckled. "She came, thinking me quite mad, but obeying me as is her habit. In a moment, I had told her all. She left the extra clothes in that basket with me and now waits us beyond the courtyard, where Sir Henry and his friends will find an empty scaffold tomorrow."
Thus the little jailor, unlocking Haym's chains as he spoke.
"But I do not understand—" Haym was still bewildered, after his long hours of torturing doubt and uncertainty—"You never spoke to me of escaping."
"I dared not raise your hopes too high. What if Sir Henry decided I was not so stupid after all and put another jailor in my place? But now all is ready. The sentinels below have seen my wife visit me today and I took pains to let them believe she was dining in my room, whereas she slipped away when the guard was being changed. Now when you leave the prison with me, I have but to say that I am taking my good dame to the stage coach." Again he chuckled, half forcing Salomon into the calico dress. "Instead, we will meet her at the appointed place, you will slip off these flounces—she cautioned me that you should not tread upon them and tear them down, as she loves this frock dearly,—and seek your good friend, General McDougall, who commands the rebel forces in our neighborhood and will grant you protection, while my wife and I will hurry back to our little farm."
"But your position here—" Haym fumbled with the unfamiliar buttons of the dress.