“Yassuh,” and the boy showed his teeth in a comprehending smile. It was not long before he saw Grey’s tall figure easily emerge from the hall-door and stop full in the light. He saw Ephraim slip around the corner and Grey move to the end of the porch, doubtless in answer to the black boy’s whispered summons. For a moment the two figures were motionless and then Erskine began to tingle acutely from head to foot. Grey came swiftly down the great path, which was radiant with moonlight. As Grey neared the dial Erskine moved toward him, keeping in a dark shadow, but Grey saw him and called in a low tone but sharply:
“Well, what is it?” With two paces more Erskine stepped out into the moonlight with his cocked pistol at Grey’s breast.
“This,” he said quietly. “Make no noise—and don’t move.” Grey was startled, but he caught his control instantly and without fear.
“You are a brave man, Mr. Grey, and so, for that matter, is—Benedict Arnold.”
“Captain Grey,” corrected Grey insolently.
“I do not recognize your rank. To me you are merely Traitor Grey.”
“You are entitled to unusual freedom of speech—under the circumstances.”
