CHAPTER XVIII
SHOWS HOW MOLLY HAYES AND A KETTLE OF
SCALDING WATER PLAY THEIR PARTS
For a moment Ben Cooper was so startled that he could not speak, and his astonishment was as plain in his face as in his manner. It was perhaps fortunate for him that a turmoil in the room took Bleekwood’s attention from him, otherwise he would have undoubtedly attracted that person’s attention in a way that he would not have cared to do.
The turmoil grew louder, high voices became higher; the inn people were clustering about in a fright; but still Ben gave it no attention. His brain was so busy with some truths which had just dawned upon him, and for the time he knew nothing else.
“Beware of a man named Seaforth, and of the Crossed Keys,” had been the warning of Johnson Quinsey. And within a very few hours afterward the lad had been mistaken for Seaforth, had been directed to a place which turned out to be an inn called the “Crossed Keys,” and Bleekwood, the man whom Seaforth was apparently to meet, had mistaken Paddy Burk for Ben himself.
“Now let me get it clear in my mind,” was the boy’s thought. “There is some sort of a plan against me by Hawkins and his confederates; a part of this was heard in some chance way by Johnson Quinsey. This scout, Seaforth, is a friend to the enemies of General Washington; and he was the man sent for to ride to York to-night; of that I am confident. One other was to bear him company; he was to have the selection of that other, and I am convinced that it was to have been I. But, as it chanced, he was gone when his orders came; and by a still greater chance, I was selected in his place. And, now, here I am face to face with the agent of the plotters, if not one of them; and he, not knowing Seaforth except by name, thinks I am he. And poor Paddy, who stands so innocently beyond there, is placed in the danger that should be mine.”
But his attention was drawn from Paddy at that instant by an increase in the disturbance before mentioned. All eyes were turned in the direction of the uproar, and well they might, for never before was there so much noise by one person. It was a gigantic young man with an inflamed face and a reckless air; he seemed possessed by alternate spirits of destruction, mirth and combat. First he would lift a heavy oaken chair and dash it to pieces against the stout walls; then, as though highly amused at his own performance, he would burst into a gale of laughter; and a moment later, his humor changing, he would brandish his enormous fists in the faces of those nearest him and dare them to grapple or fisticuff with him. But all declined the invitation with much promptness, at which the young giant resumed his work of destruction once more.
Finally, unable to bear it longer, the landlord approached.
“What’s this, sir?” demanded he with an air of assurance, which he, perhaps, was far from feeling. “Must you break up my furnishing, young gentleman? Has a madness come upon you that you should do the like? Have done, sir; have done at once.”
The young giant glared at him; here at length, so it seemed, was one who would oppose him.
“Ah, so you are there, are you, mine host of the Crossed Keys?” cried he, delighted at the prospect of having some one at whom to level his humor and perhaps receive his blows. “And so you object to my amusing myself, eh?”