"For what do they use that?" inquired George.
"'Tis jammed to the top with 'rebel' prisoners," replied the officer. "I wish they could tow it out into the river and sink it there."
George flushed hotly, but said nothing, and they made their way from the King's Road into one of the cross streets.
"You had best stop at the 'City Arms,'" said the officer. "I will come to-morrow myself to conduct you to General Howe."
"Thank you most kindly," said George. "But I must get some clothes first. I could not appear before the honorable gentlemen in this costume."
"Do you intend seeking an appointment?" inquired his companion.
"No," answered George; "I am lame."
The officer reddened, for he was a gentleman. "I hope I shall see you to-morrow then," he said. "Good-rest to you."
They had halted before the inn with the broad verandas. The whole scene looked very natural. Some church bell struck the hour, and a finely emblazoned coach came bowling down Broadway. Red and the mark of the crown were everywhere. George walked into the inn and called for the landlord. Taking the handsomest room in the house, and kept to it, feigning fatigue, the rest of that afternoon; how odd it seemed to Mr. Richard Blount! When he came down for his dinner he noticed that the landlord was unusually polite, and called him at once by name. He could not help but smile, for he remembered how he had watched this fat palm-rubbing individual stand in his doorway when he and his brother William had gone on that well-remembered walk about the city only a few years before.
"Ah! Mr. Blount," said the landlord, "we are glad to have you here. I know your family in Albany well, and your father has often been a guest under my roof. My humble regards to him."