"Come into me spacious apartment and have a pipe, McCune," said Shaughnessy.
The tones of the two men talking were familiar to George somehow. But when he heard the name "McCune," he recalled the whole thing to his memory. They were the two soldiers he and his brother had talked with years ago on that memorable day of parting.
The door closed behind them, and it had hardly done so when a soft grating of the key in the lock was heard. Mrs. Bonsall opened the door. Once more she took him by the hand and led the way down the stairs.
As they went through the front room the woman picked up a candle and looked intently at George's palm.
"Tribulations," she said; "but do not despair; success awaits you."
George did not smile, but gravely thanked her for all that she had done, and slipped out of the house.
It was pitch dark, and he remembered as he went along that he was far from accomplishing anything that he had made the perilous trip for. All his fine castles had tumbled about his ears, the smooth pathway that appeared to stretch before him had vanished, and nothing but obstacles loomed before his eyes. However, if he could not assist in the wild scheme of gaining possession of such a powerful hostage as Lord Howe or his brother, the General, any news that he could bring concerning the probable destination of the army would be of inestimable value to General Washington at Morristown. Why not find out as much as he could and get away?
So intently was he thinking, that he did not notice a figure that had stepped out of the doorway of a house and was walking, close at his heels.
"Oh, de ham fat it am good, an' de 'possum it am fine,"
hummed a voice.