Mr. Berners did as he was requested to do, and then stood waiting for his friend, who soon came up.
“You have got all you will need on your journey, have you not?” inquired the Captain.
Mr. Berners replied by telling his friend exactly what he had brought.
“All that is very well, but people require to eat and drink once in a while. So I have put some sandwiches, and a bottle of wine from the supper-table, into your saddle-bags. And now, in the hurry, have you decided upon your route?”
“Yes; we shall endeavor to reach the nearest seaport, Norfolk probably, and embark for some foreign country, no matter what, for in no place but in a foreign country can my unhappy wife hope for safety,” mournfully replied Lyon Berners.
“Endeavor to reach Norfolk! That will never succeed. You will be sure to be overtaken and brought back before you go a score of miles on that road,” declared Captain Pendleton, shaking his head.
“Then, in the name of Heaven, what will do?” demanded Mr. Berners, in a tone of desperation.
“You must find a place of concealment, and then take time to disguise yourself and your wife, so that neither of you can be recognized, before you venture upon the road to Norfolk. You see, Lyon, you are the better lawyer, but I am the better strategist! I graduated among the warpaths and the ambushes of the Redskins on the frontier.”
“But where shall I find such a place of concealment?”
“I have thought of that.”