"The way of it is this," began Tom hesitatingly. "I happened to be to-night where I overheard the talk between two men, and one of 'em was Fenton, the pine robber."
Tom could perceive the expression of alarm which swept over the face of the woman, who was still standing before him. Apparently ignoring it, however, he went on. "It seems that both of the armies are on the march across Jersey, and that Washington has halted over by Hopewell. Somehow, Fenton had got word that your husband was coming home for a day, and he's fixed up a plan to trap and take him."
"I haven't heard a word," said the woman slowly. "When was he coming?"
"To-morrow."
"Yes. And he knows something more, too, or at least he pretends to. I heard him say that you had some money hidden in an old sock, which you'd stored away in the garret."
Tom saw the woman start at his words, and knew then that Fenton's statement had been correct, although he could not conjecture how the pine robber had received his information. Little Peter's mother was a resolute woman, but even the stoutest heart might well be alarmed to hear that Fenton was aware of such possessions.
"Have you any idea when Little Peter will come home?"
"No. It's too bad to keep him out in such a night. And we need him here now."
"I'll wait till he comes," said Tom quietly. "There's no danger to-night, but I want to see him, and I don't think you'll object to my staying, will you?"