"Dressed hurriedly, probably, and forgot your uniform."
"I have lately been serving with the Jersey militia, sir, as Captain Grant can testify," I answered civilly.
"And Captain Grant is only too anxious," broke in that officer impatiently. "If you will listen to me, Colonel, I'll tell you what I know in two minutes or less. It will settle this fellow's status."
Mortimer glanced from my face to that of the speaker, evidently attracted by the vindictiveness of the voice.
"All right, Grant, go on," he said shortly, "only I shall pass judgment as a soldier, and not because of any personal quarrel. What is it you know?"
"That this man came into Philadelphia three days ago dressed as an officer of British Infantry. He claimed to be Lieutenant Fortesque, of the 42nd Foot, with despatches from New York. Howe vouched for him, and furnished him with a pass and orderly. He put in the whole day studying the positions of our troops, and in the evening was a guest at the Mischianza—André gave him a card, I heard—and danced there with your daughter. I doubted the man from our first meeting, and later picked up certain rumors which convinced me he was a spy. Some words passed between us on the dancing floor, and as a consequence I asked the man to meet me below. Some one either told him he was suspected, or else he had the heart of a coward, for he failed to appear."
"Did you intend to fight him?"
"No; we planned an arrest. I reported to MacHugh what I had heard, and he had Carter close at hand with a squad of the guard."
"A very pretty trick on mere suspicion," commented the Colonel in some disgust. "But go on with your story."
Grant sucked in his breath quickly, evidently surprised at the remark.