“Any bread this morning, sir?” he asked in French. “I have some good Yankee bread with raisins and sweetening.”
“Ah, but it’s good to have a sight of you, friend Allan!” exclaimed Conyngham, rushing up and grasping the imitation baker by both hands, that, to carry out the illusion, Allan had daubed with flour. “Aren’t you running great risks?” he asked.
“Risks?” laughed Allan. “Why, if the Frenchmen found out that I was bringing in food to their starving prisoners, I would be hung, drawn, and quartered.”
“So you donned this disguise,” laughed Conyngham in reply, “and they never suspected you of such a thing. But news! news! my friend; that’s what I am starving for—it’s the heart and the soul of me that’s crying and not my stomach, for that the head jailer has looked after well. Are they going to hand us over to the Britishers?—that’s the first question.”
“They are and they aren’t,” replied Allan, “but this news I got this morning from Paris: ‘Tell Conyngham to sit tight and not worry. All is apparently going well.’ But the French are great people—they must do everything like a play or a spectacle. Here I was told that I should be allowed to see you if I applied to the commandant, and he informs me that I certainly can do so, but requests that I shall put on a disguise. I tried on three uniforms, but there were none that would button or allow me to sit down.”
“Which by the same token I haven’t asked you to do myself yet,” was Conyngham’s reply.
Allan seated himself in the big rush-bottom chair and placed his basket on the floor.
“The English expect that you are to be handed over for a certainty,” Allan continued. “They have prepared the sloop of war to receive you, and I understand that another is on its way. Instructions, too, have been sent to Portsmouth or Southampton, but we will disappoint them. The French Government is playing its little game of ‘wait a bit longer,’ and never letting their right hand see what their left hand is doing.”
“I knew that Dr. Franklin would take care of that,” returned Conyngham, “but how long is it going to last?”
“Have patience!” replied Allan, “it certainly will not be long. I am expecting Mr. Hodge to-morrow or the day after from Paris.”