Here George just smothered an astonished outcry. Peggy Camp a patriot! A patriot! And he had thought her a Tory! Why, if that were the case——!
But he had no time for thought. Herbert was still speaking, and he could not lose a word.
“And when she heard of my supposed change of front, she did not say a word, but the way she looked at me, I shall never forget. Contempt was the weakest thing in it—scorn was there, and pity also. For a moment I felt that I could not stand it. I felt that I must tell her the truth. But I did not. An unguarded word from her to my enemies, a look, even, might ruin my chances for success.”
“Success?” There was a note of interrogation in Merchant Camp’s voice. “And were you successful?”
“No.” The regret in the young man’s voice was undoubted. “Misfortune dogged me constantly. At first I was reported as a traitor to General Putnam and was quietly arrested. But I convinced him of my innocence, explained to him my plan and was liberated that I might carry it out.”
“And what was this plan?”
“It was to gain the good will of Governor Tryon in the first place; but this I could never do—the way to him was blocked by the very persons whom I suspected.”
“And who were they?”
At this moment George felt a hand laid upon his arm; he turned, the heavy pistol leaping from his belt; but Nat Brewster’s voice whispered in his ear:
“Some one’s coming this way.”