“It was he, then,” breathed the watcher softly.
There came the flapping of a broad hat within and the smoke began to thin.
“Is this the only building left on the place?” asked a second voice.
“The only one. Every other is burned to the ground.”
“The rascals!” said the second voice.
“Rascals! They are the most murderous villains unhanged! They stop at nothing. I held the ‘protection’ of Lord Cornwallis before their eyes—there was his signature and seal as plain as day—but I might as well have shown it to a drove of mad bulls.”
“Is there no way of punishing them?”
“None. Their own commanders alone have authority over them; and they are as bad as the rank and file.”
“It’s fortunate,” exclaimed Merchant Camp, amidst another fit of coughing, “that you got your sister Peggy away, at least.”
“Herbert again!” breathed the one outside, for the first time realizing to whom the second voice belonged.