“A threat,” said Ben, thoughtfully; “undoubtedly a threat. He seemed to object to my watching him as I did.”
“And the way he started, and the rage he flew into when you joked him about also being at Bunker Hill. It was peculiar.”
“And if he was there—and I am, somehow, now inclined so think he was—why does he desire to keep it hidden? All whom I have met who took part in that fight have been proud of it. Indeed, most have made it a boast.” Ben paused for a moment, deep in thought; then he suddenly leaped up.
“What is it?” cried the Porcupine, all alert, and also rising.
But seeing that he was attracting attention, Ben resumed his seat.
“Sit down,” said he, calmly enough. And when the dwarf had done so, he leaned across the table and continued in a low-pitched voice: “Master Hawkins was present at the Bunker Hill fight. My watching him so intently, and my later jest have convinced him that I saw him there.”
“But,” said the Porcupine, not understanding, “he seemed afraid. Why should he fear you seeing him there?”
“There is only one reason in the world,” replied Ben Cooper, and his voice sank lower than ever, “and that is that he was upon the side of the enemy.”
The Porcupine sank back into his chair; his lips formed a circle, and he blew out his breath hissingly. Then with one finger he pointed at Ben and said:
“You’re right. You’re exactly right. It couldn’t be anything else. He belongs to Howe’s army, and he’s here for no good.”