Washington sat at a little deal table, which evidently at the moment served him as a desk. In those days his headquarters were scarcely the same twenty-four hours at a time. When he glanced up, seeing Colonel Cadwalader, he arose to greet him, coming forward a pace to do this with much cordiality.
“We have great need of you, Mr. Cadwalader,” the General said, waving Hadley’s new friend to a seat near the little table. “You come from the river?”
“Aye, General. But I can give you little news of a satisfactory character, I fear. However, here is a young lad who bears something which may prove of moment.”
Washington glanced swiftly at Hadley, who stood, plainly ill at ease, and wringing his old cap in his hand. The brilliant, if travel-stained, uniforms of the officers who surrounded the general contrasted oddly with the patched and soiled garments the boy wore. He had ridden away from the Three Oaks Inn in his stable dress, and he felt the incongruity of his presence now more keenly than before.
“What does the young man bring?” asked Washington.
“Come forward, my lad,” Cadwalader urged. “Give the General your packet.”
With trembling fingers Hadley unbuttoned his coat and drew forth the sealed papers. He knew all the time that those keen eyes were looking him over. They seemed to penetrate even the wrapper of the packet.
HADLEY DELIVERED THE PACKET TO WASHINGTON
“Where are you from, boy?” asked Washington.