I told him I had; whereupon he asked me to walk with him, saying that we could come at my business as well in that way as in any other, if I would so far indulge him.
I laughed in my sleeve, and gave him the wall, as a poor dependent on his bounty should; and, reckoning again without my host, wondered how long it would take poor Champe to get within such easy gripping distance of his quarry. As we passed northward and eastward, quite to the other side of the town, and well beyond the burned area Arnold put me through my deserter’s catechism, which now, since I had danced through it gaily once for Castner, and again for Sir Henry, came off the tongue as glibly as a schoolboy’s lesson.
It was in front of a rather stately house facing an open space that we paused finally, and I saw a woman come and open the door and close it again quickly when she saw there were two of us. I had but a glimpse of the woman’s face, but that was enough. No one who had ever seen Margaret Shippen would fail to recognize her even though she appeared, as she did to me in that door-opening glimpse, in the guise of a sweet young woman prematurely saddened and aged by sorrow unnamable.
But another thing I saw which disturbed me even more than the sight of poor Peggy Shippen’s face; disturbed me so greatly that I scarcely heard the traitor’s question which gave me the opportunity I had been flattering him for. The distracting thing was a fleeting glimpse of another fair face at an upper window of the house; a clean-cut profile appearing for a single instant behind the leaded panes, and then vanishing so quickly that I began to doubt that it had been there. Now I could have sworn upon a stack of Bibles that there was only one face in all the world that could have flung that profile outline upon any window that was ever glazed, and that face I had left safely behind me in Virginia.
Could it be possible—but no, it was only a fancied resemblance, I told myself; and then I flogged my wits into line again in time to answer Arnold’s leave-taking query that had been all but lost in the sudden jangle of emotions.
“What can you do for me, Mr. Arnold?” I echoed. “That is for you to determine. From what Sir Henry Clinton said, or rather hinted at, I hoped you might be able to make use of me in some way. But I shall be at my best if you keep me near your person, sir. Of that I am very sure.”
Again he swallowed the bait like a greedy gudgeon.
“You shall come to me at my headquarters this afternoon, Mr. Page,” he said, with the air of one of the great ones of earth dealing out largesse to a reverent and admiring vassal; and then he ascended the steps and the door was opened quickly for him by the woman who stood inside.
Some things were made plain to me on my chilly walk back to the southward, with its opportunity for quiet reflection. One was that I had not overrated Arnold’s appetite for flattery, which was in truth even grosser than I had imagined. Another developed out of the side-glimpse given me of the traitor’s domestic affairs. It was not passing strange that Arnold should not wish to have his family with him in the house in the lower town where, as Castner had told me, he ate and slept and had his regimental rendezvous. But I saw more than disinclination in the town-wide severing. It spoke eloquently of the traitor’s social isolation that Arnold should be only a daylight visitor at the house where his wife and child were, without doubt, the guests of family friends of the Shippens.
I was wondering upon what footing he stood in this house, and if he were only tolerated there as he seemed to be elsewhere, when the recollection of the face I had seen at the upper window came to haunt and perplex me again. My last letter from Beatrix Leigh had pictured her hived up in the great house at Sevenoaks, in County Warwick, her father and brothers gone to the south with General Greene,—in whose campaign against Cornwallis she was patently more interested than she was in our humdrum New York fuse-sputterings,—and her mother and all the other women-folk of the tidewater homeland shuddering in anticipation of the long-threatened descent of the British upon the Virginia coast.