George, from the time of their father’s death, had made his home with their Tory grandfather. In a measure he had shared the old man’s views. But at the Lexington fight, all this changed, and now he was the stoutest patriot of them all. Ezra had scarcely seen his grandfather in years; for the boy’s open advocacy of the cause of liberty had deeply incensed the old man against him.
“I don’t know a great deal about them,” answered George. “I wish I did. It might save us something. Pennington is a King’s man, of course. He and grandfather have been intimate—I might say, very intimate. I noticed even long ago that they whispered a great deal in corners and held many consultations in the library with the doors carefully closed.”
Ezra pursed up his mouth and frowned.
“I see,” was all he said.
“Pennington came and went a great deal. Sometimes I would not see him for weeks. Then, again, he’d be at the house almost constantly. Now and then he’d bring a stranger. That is how I came to see Abdallah.”
“Ah.”
“They came late one night, in the midst of a storm. There was a great banging of doors and lifting of voices. I had gone to bed some time before; but the noise was so unusual that I got up again, dressed and came down. The library door stood open, and I saw grandfather, Mr. Pennington, Abdallah and General Gage.”
“Did you by any chance hear what was said?”
“Not much. But I learned that grandfather had been expecting Abdallah for months. The man had just arrived that night in a brig from San Domingo. I also drew from what I heard that grandfather desired him to perform some work of great value. But just what its nature was, I did not know until to-night.”
“So grandfather is intimately concerned in the affair,” said Ezra. “Do you know, somehow I felt that some such condition existed. Ben Cooper says he can often feel things coming; and in this case, at any rate, it’s been so with me.”