"It's you, is it?" he said insolently, with a leer of malice at Godfrey. "I thought I weren't mistaken. And what are you doing in Philadelphia, my fine British officer? Did you just wake up and find the red-coats gone? Or did you come over from New York to look about a little—"
"You are mistaken, my good fellow," interrupted Godfrey, his face turning slightly pale.
"Get out of the way," Nathan added angrily. "Don't stop us here—"
"I'm not mistaken," the man asserted loudly; "not a bit of it. I know who I'm talking to—your name's Spencer, and you were here with the British last winter. Don't be in a hurry to get away, you and your friend."
"Who is he—do you know him?" Nathan asked in an undertone.
"I do now," Godfrey whispered. "His name is Burd, and he kept a store up near the barracks. I had him arrested by the guard for threatening Major Langdon. He's going to give us trouble, Nathan. Look, the people are beginning to notice us—"
"Whispering treason, that's what you are," exclaimed the ruffian. "No such doings, my fine fellows. It's lucky I saw you—"
"We must get away at once," muttered Nathan. "What a fool I was to stop you here! Now will you get out of the way?" he added to the man. "You're making a mistake that will cost you dear—I am a son of Captain Stanbury of the American army, and a soldier myself—"
"A likely story!" sneered the ruffian; and that quickly, as the lads started to move, he threw himself upon Godfrey and bore him hard back against the corner of the house. "A spy! a spy!" he yelled at the top of his voice.
Nathan lost his temper completely, and like a flash he fetched the man a stunning blow in the face that made him release Godfrey. A second blow sent him staggering to the edge of the sidewalk, where he set up a prodigious shouting for help.