“I had no idea whom I was to meet,” said the young swamp-rider.
“Of course not; how could you?”
Cornwallis tapped the table with the point of the quill, thoughtfully; now and then his eyes would wander from Tom’s face to that of Tarleton; he seemed to be considering something very carefully.
“I had thought,” said he at last, “to meet a very different person.”
“A rather older person, to be sure,” said Tarleton.
Tom bent his head slightly, but said nothing.
“Of course,” said the commander of the British army, “you do not know either of us—no more than we know you. It is better so; the work that you are about to do is of exceeding peril, and the less we know of each other, the better.”
Tom looked at the speaker in astonishment. However, he did not allow the feeling to show in his face; they were playing with him, he fancied; and he suddenly resolved that he would bear his part in it, and prove that he was not afraid.
“I had thought,” said he coolly, after a moment’s silence, “that I had met this gentleman,” nodding toward Tarleton, “before.”
“You have just come to Charleston, from Canada,” said Tarleton. “How could you?”