He paused a moment, then he resumed:
“Grandfather always hated spying and spies. And the fact that he has personally imported this man, shows how great is his hatred of the cause.”
“It has no end,” and George Prentiss shook his head.
“I can’t help the impression that he will come to danger through it all,” said Ezra. “It is a time when men do not stay their hands; and should he risk himself, his life will pay for it.”
Again George shook his head.
“And he is of the sort that risk themselves,” he said.
“But, tell me,” said Ezra. “What sort of a person is Pennington?”
“Not more than thirty-five; but he would strike you as being much older. He is about the average height; and his most noticeable characteristics are a very high and very narrow forehead, and a most disagreeable laugh.”
After George had left him, Ezra undressed and went to bed. But not to sleep! Before his mind came pictures of conspiracies in which his bitter old grandfather played a conspicuous part. In his unreasoning hatred of the colonies’ desire for liberty, the lad knew the old man would go to any length.
“He hasn’t spoken to, or looked at me for years,” thought Ezra. “But I’d have no harm befall him for all that.”