CHAPTER XI.
When Philip Greaves received the note from Barry, to the deserter who was secreted in the suburbs of the city, he proceeded, towards evening, to the point where the soldier lay concealed, and to which he had been directed with unerring accuracy. On reaching the house in which the fugitive was said to be hidden, he found but an old woman, who seemed neither alarmed nor surprised at his arrival. Upon whispering a word in her ear, however, a look of intelligence stole into her eyes, and putting on her bonnet and cloak, in the deep dusk, she motioned him to follow her, having closed and locked to door behind her. After leading him but a short distance, among a number of small though clean huts, she gained one in which the family were seated at their plain evening repast. As they entered the dwelling, he perceived that there was one vacant seat at the table, from which some person had evidently arisen hastily and disappeared from the apartment In the course of a few moments, however, and on the head of the family having been called aside by the old woman, Philip was greeted with a hearty welcome, and instantly led into a little back room, where he found the person whom he sought, gazing about him with a distrustful if not an alarmed air. To this individual he showed Barry’s note, which he had previously abstracted from the envelope, requesting him, as he perused it, to return it to him again, as he wished to destroy it himself, lest, by accident, it should fall into other hands, and as he desired to say to Nicholas that he was personally cognizant of the fact of its being put out of the way. To this request the deserter readily acceded, as he would have to any other of a reasonable character, so delighted was he to receive the assurance that the hour of his deliverance drew nigh. Here, then, were the particulars of the plan of his escape settled upon. He was to remain still concealed, until Greaves called for him with a cab, but was to hold himself ready to quit his hiding place at a moment’s notice.
These preliminaries being arranged, Philip left the house and speedily proceeded to a neighboring hotel, where he procured a private room, and, calling for pen, ink and paper, at once addressed himself to writing a letter. Various were the rubbings of hands and sinister smiles which punctuated this epistle, until at last, on its being finished, he carefully folded it, and taking from his pocket-book a sealed envelope, one end of which had been previously opened with great care, and the superscription completely removed by a cunning process, he took from another compartment of his book a small note and introduced it into the envelope, adroitly closing the apperture with a little mucilage, so as to completely conceal the incision that had been made, and obliterate every evidence of the envelope’s having been tampered with. This done, he slowly, and with apparent great caution as to the conformation of the letters, directed it, and when he found the ink to be completely dried, enclosed the whole in the letter that he had just written; placing it, in turn, in a larger envelope which he hastily directed to some party, from whom he apparently cared but little to conceal his hand-writing. This accomplished, he called for some brandy, and after paying liberally for it and the use of the room, directed his steps towards a stationer’s shop where he purchased a postage stamp which he attached to his letter. Here, also, he heard the subject of the threatened invasion of the Province discussed in all its bearings and probable results; and here, too, the bitter murmurs of discontent regarding the criminal conduct of the individual to whom the whole interests of the country were entrusted by the people and the Crown, and who was said to have been already for weeks in a condition of mind and body absolutely loathsome. Not wishing, however, to delay the mailing of his letter, he soon found himself wending his way to the Post-office, where, with his own hand, he consigned the missive to the care of her Majesty the Queen, by putting it in the apperture that opened into the letter-box from the street—the office being already closed. On this, he retraced his steps towards The Harp, where he so managed to thrust himself in among the struggling suspicions of O’Brien, as to almost gain the full confidence of that generous patriot and banish the last doubt from his breast.
“Well,” said Tom, when he found a fitting opportunity, “how did you find the poor fellow?”
“Willing enough to leave the Province,” whispered Philip, “if he could only manage to get away; but I think that will be easily arranged now, as the storm about his desertion has blown over.”.
“On the night after that of to-morrow, then,” returned Tom, “they will make the attimpt; and as I can get a man to help them who knows every turn and crank of the river, I have hopes of their success; besides it will be Nick’s night for guard, and there’s somethin in that, you know; as they can get out at the point where he stands, without much throuble to themselves or anyone else. However,” he observed farther, “I hope no one will let the cat out of the bag, as it would be a cryin sin to have the poor fellows ‘nabbed’ at the very moment when they fancied themselves about to brathe the purest air that ever floated benathe the canopy of heaven.”
“There’s no fear of that,” replied Greaves, “for you and I only know of their intentions; although I feel that you are not exactly at home with me yet, for all your friendly conduct and information; but recollect, that I’ll perform my part of the contract, and it is for you and them to do the rest.”
This speech made Tom feel a little awkward; and he was about to make a suitable reply, when he was happily relieved by some parties who dropped in, to command the attention he so willingly accorded at the moment.