“Not back to the haunt of my villainous abductors?”
“’Xactly.”
“Oh, no, Hank! You do not—you can not mean this! Tell me that you are but jesting!” wildly exclaimed Imogene, now thoroughly alarmed at the villain’s words.
“It’s th’ truth.”
“Then you are concerned in this plot?”
“If ye’ll hev it so, I am.”
“What! You do not mean to tell me, Hank, that you, you are a traitor—that you are one of these ruffians!”
The Tory hesitated a moment before answering, but feeling assured that he had nothing to fear in revealing his true character to his captive, as it was beyond her power to do him harm, he turned abruptly and replied:
“Yes. Hereafter ye’ll know me, not as Hank, th’ American scout and patriot, but as Putney, th’ spy of th’ Tory League!”
This announcement, like the sting of some venomous serpent, sunk deep into the heart of Imogene. For a moment she seemed completely paralyzed.