"Yes, sir."
"My God! and Eric?"
"Not to my knowledge—there was a man called Peter, this fellow, and a black slave or two. They were all I saw."
"But why should Claire have been here," he asked, as though dazed, "unless she came to meet her brother? I supposed her safe in the city."
"I do not pretend to understand the cause of her presence. But if you listen to my story you may know what to do." I paused an instant to get a grip on my thoughts. I need not tell all, confess my identity, or mention my personal relations with the daughter. "I am a soldier, Colonel Mortimer, in Maxwell's Brigade, of Washington's army. What brought me here has nothing to do with the present story. I was in the fight over yonder near Mount Laurel night before last when we captured Delavan's forage train—"
"What!" burst in the dragoon officer. "Was Delavan defeated, then? Hadn't Grant joined him?"
"Yes to both questions, sir. Delavan was killed, and Grant surrendered. He and his men were paroled, and started for Philadelphia last evening from here."
"From here!" incredulously. "That must be a lie, Colonel, for Mount Laurel is between here and the city."
"Nevertheless, it is no lie," I retorted promptly, looking the young fool in the eyes. "I was hiding here for reasons of my own when they came tramping in along that road about the middle of the forenoon yesterday. There was near a hundred Hessians and Rangers, with two German officers, and Grant. I heard them tell Mistress Mortimer this was the nearest place where they were sure of finding provisions, and that they intended to remain until night. I don't know what happened after that, except that the officers went inside, and the men marched around to the back to eat their breakfast."
"What became of you?"