“Oh, do you think so!”
“I do. But,” and there was an anxious note in his voice, “for all that, if the message did not come under the eyes of Rahl, it would be much better.”
Here came a loud shout of laughter from Rahl. He had won. His face was flushed and exultant.
“Ach!” he shouted. “I have not yet forgotten the game.” Then noting that his band had ceased playing he added, with a frown: “What is the matter with the music? Eh? Tell them to play. What do I pay the swine for?” Then to his companions, “Come, deal, deal——”
Muddled, excited, engrossed in his game, the leader of the Hessians had no thought of his trust; had any one spoken of an American attack at that moment, he would have been treated as one beneath contempt. On and on went the game, the dance and the throbbing of the band; the minutes passed and grew in number; the long hand of young Prentiss’ watch climbed slowly upward.
“Four o’clock,” he said at last to Peggy, who sat huddled in her cloak in the outer room. “It would seem that the sergeant has forgotten Slade’s note entirely.”
That Slade had arrived at this conclusion also was at that moment made evident; he came out of the headquarters across the way, his face cleansed of the blood stains and seeming much stronger. At once he accosted the fat sergeant. That worthy gazed at him stupidly for a moment; his naturally sluggish brain had been rendered more so than ever by the cold of the early morning; then he remembered.
“Ach! Donner und blitz!” he cried. “I have not der colonel spoken to yet. But I will. Stand here der door by.”
So saying, he entered the outer room where George and Peggy stood alone by the fire. The sergeant saluted awkwardly; he was a plain man, and the lights and beautiful women in the rooms beyond rather bewildered him.
Instantly Peggy was at his side, smiling and bewitching.