“I don’t understand you.”
“The campaign is ended. Burgoyne surrendered a half hour ago.”
Which was true, for Whitestone, with his skill in finding out things before other people, had told me.
“I’m very sorry,” said the man in tones of sharp disappointment.
“I’m not,” I said.
“What do you mean to have done with me?” he asked—“hanging, or shooting?”
I did not admire the man, but I respected his courage.
“Neither,” I replied. “You can’t do any harm now. Be off!”
He looked surprised, but he thanked me and walked away.