When I awoke next morning Jones had already departed on his mission, leaving me a note telling me where to meet him the next night on our return to camp.
All that day I kept close to the house, for I did not dare to venture forth in the broad day, as I was known to many, and it would not have gone well with me if I had met with those I knew.
But at last the night began to fall, and, bidding my kind hostess good-bye, I made my way through the streets to the Tory's house.
I soon found it—a square brick structure in a quiet street. I noticed, as I approached it, several dark alleys just at the right places for a rapid retreat if the worse should come to the worst.
Then my hand was on the knocker, and its fall startled me as the clatter echoed far down the street and seemed to wake the very dead.
A slave opened the door, who, though he glanced at me suspiciously, told me that his mistress was at home.
Then in a moment my storm-coat was off, and I stood in the door of the drawing-room.
It was a beautiful picture, the great strong Highlander on his knees at the feet of Mistress Jean begging for her hand, which she seemed to be denying him, for he was growing more and more passionate.
For a moment, as I stood there, I could feel my hair grow gray, but the tumult and the conflict within me were short and I turned to go, for it seemed to me that she could not but care for so gallant a gentleman.
But her eyes met mine, and then for a moment there was terror in them, and a cry broke forth from her lips.