“To-night,” said the other. “Lafayette is already arrived in York, I understand.”
“It will be like the meeting of a band of low conspirators,” said old Mr. Claflin, thumping the stick, which he always carried, upon the floor. “If I could, I would take them all, and pitch them into the road.”
Lieutenant Claflin laughed.
“Patience, father, patience. That, though perhaps in another form, may come later.”
That day and the next passed, not without great anxiety to the Claflins. The possible winning away of Lafayette from Washington and the consequent bestowal of the expected favor of France upon his enemies was a matter of great consequence to them, for they, indeed, had the welfare of the nation at heart. But Ben Cooper did not join in their nervous talk; he remained very calm and thoughtful, though as the time for the meeting of the conspirators drew nearer, he displayed an eagerness that was noticeable.
Old Mr. Claflin looked at the long table with its spotless napery, shining china and fine old silver plate; the candles burned in high candlesticks at regular intervals, and a chair was placed for each expected guest.
“There is one for you,” said he to Ben. “I thought you’d like to hear what goes forward.”
“No, no,” spoke Lieutenant Claflin, hastily. “That would be impossible; how could we explain the presence of a stranger at such a time as this?”
“Far easier to explain the presence of a stranger than to explain mine,” laughed Ben. “You forget that my very good friends, Tobias Hawkins and Master Sugden, are both to be here. What would they say did they perceive me seated opposite them?”
Mr. Claflin struck his hands together.