He understood the piercing glance.
"I have come thus under General Clinton's orders," was the reply. "My safety lies in open uniform."
"Let it go at that. Here! I have with me the plans of West Point, together with a full inventory of its armament and stores and a roster of its garrison."
André took the papers and glanced at them as best he could by means of the lantern light.
"But I do not see here a written promise to surrender the fortress?"
"No! Nor, by Heaven, you shall not receive it," Arnold snapped. "I have given my word. That is enough. I have already placed myself in your hands by these plans and inventories made in my own handwriting. This is all.... No more."
"General Washington visits here on Saturday?"
"Yes."
"The surrender must take place that night."
Arnold looked fiercely at him. This was one matter which seemed intolerable. To betray his country was treason; to betray his sole friend and benefactor was unknown to him by any name in the English language. He refused absolutely. André insisted, and the discussion became violent.