“Why,” said Gage, apparently much struck by this reasoning, “what you say has the ring of philosophy.”
He tapped the edge of the table with his finger-tips for a moment. He was a good-natured man when things were working smoothly; and he showed it now.
“Who knows,” laughed he, “but what this is some sort of a pleasant surprise he has in store for us? As he deals in mysteries, much as Abdallah does, there is no telling.”
He turned to Ezra.
“So,” he continued, “we will allow the matter to rest for a time. Further action can be taken when any developments come to our notice.”
“And in the meantime,” inquired Major Buckstone, “what disposition is to be made with regard to the prisoners?”
“Oh, I would scarcely regard them in that light,” replied Gage carelessly. “We will allow them what run of the city the townspeople have. Never fear but that they will be at hand when wanted. The ways out of Boston are closely watched, my dear major, as Master Pennington can well tell you. They cannot get out, should they desire to do so ever so much.”
The major glowered at Ezra, displeased. The old merchant sat silently grim and unbelieving. Pennington, with satire in his eyes, rubbed the palms of his hands together softly.
Then there came a clatter of hoofs that broke the silence of Sun Court. They paused under the window, and the rider was heard dismounting. An instant later the heavy knocker at the door of Seth Prentiss’ house gave its thunderous rat-tat-tat.
“Something very urgent, it would seem,” said Pennington.