“And Master Hawkins thinks that to win Lafayette to his side will turn the favor of France toward General Gates?”
“He has some such notion—and a most excellent one it is, I think.”
“But the Marquis is not in the king’s good graces. He ran away here to America against the king’s wishes.”
“The king was forced to forbid his going because of political reasons. But, secretly, he was delighted when he made safely away; for France desired some one to overlook conditions here and speak the truth concerning them. Another thing, the gallant conduct of the Marquis in sacrificing everything to take up the cause of liberty aroused great enthusiasm in Paris. They rave over him; the queen and the other great ladies sent him offerings of their admiration. Lafayette is but a lad, it’s true,” spoke Bleekwood, “but that faction which holds his support will have a heavy advantage.”
“Master Hawkins is a far-seeing man,” said Ben, thoughtfully. “There are few points in the game that escape him.”
“There are none,” claimed the cadaverous Bleekwood, in high admiration. “He misses nothing.”
And no sooner had these words been uttered than there again came a great noise from somewhere within the inn. Voices were lifted, steel clashed upon steel, and footsteps rushed to and fro. Thoughts of Paddy came to Ben, and he leaped up, drawing his pistol. But the shouts changed in tone, the blows ceased; but the rushing footsteps increased; then a door was flung open and a half dozen rough looking fellows, swords in hand, came pouring into the public room, cries of fear upon their lips. Behind them, her blue eyes shining with indignation and bearing a huge kettle of scalding water in her hands, was the red-haired Irish lass who had subdued the roystering giant a short time before.
“Out with you, you thieves,” cried this redoubtable person; “out upon you! Is it kill a decent boy you’d be doing? Out of my reach now, or I’ll scald the dirty hides off every one of you. Arrah, don’t be threatening me now, for sorra the bit is Molly Hayes afraid of your bodkins, you blackguards. Go along now, or I’ll dash every drop I have here into your ugly faces.”
And as she stood there in the doorway, the steaming vessel held aloft, fronting the scowling men, Ben, to his great relief, saw peering over her shoulder the grinning face of Paddy Burk.