“Why,” said he in comical vexation, “I had forgotten that entirely. To be sure! What could I have been thinking of? You are, really, the very last person in the world whom they should find here.”
However, the old gentleman had got it into his head that Ben should be a witness to the proceedings; and realizing that he could not show himself, he set about contriving a secret means of his seeing and hearing what took place. There was a small apartment adjoining the supper and reception rooms; and over the communicating doors of each there was a narrow transom. These the old gentleman had opened and a thin curtain was drawn across them, making them the best possible place of observation.
Ben was at once placed in this room, and with a book and a candle by the fire, began to while away the time. No great space elapsed before the knocker sounded, telling him that some of the guests had arrived. At once he put out his candle, and sat in the semi-darkness beside the fire, waiting.
Several persons were shown into the reception room, and as the door closed behind the man servant who had admitted them, their voices came plainly to the ears of the waiting lad.
“Br-r-r-r! A cold enough night, Sugden.”
“For all intents and purposes. But the season is none too cold for Price to make his way here from Phila——”
“Hush! It will be just as well not to speak too loudly of such things.”
Ben noiselessly arose, mounted a chair, and peered through the curtains at the transom. The two men stood before the fire, and their voices were pitched in a low key.
“It must have been something of importance to bring him all this distance in such weather,” suggested Sugden.
“Howe has made a most excellent stroke,” said Hawkins. Then, though Ben listened eagerly, the voice sank so low as to be almost unintelligible. “General Charles Lee is to be exchanged.”