"Don't bother about it," whispered Jenkins. "They're waiting for you up above—in the little room on the right at the head of the stairs. You'll see a light under the door. I must be off."
The landlord returned to his customers, and Nathan slowly ascended the stairs, still puzzling over the strange inquiries of Mr. Waxpenny. Guided by the glimmer of light, he entered a small bed-chamber—the identical room, in fact, in which Jefferson had written the Declaration of Independence two years before. Here the lad found Anthony Benezet and Timothy Matlack, two elderly and highly respectable Quaker citizens. A candle, standing on a small table between them, dimly revealed their solemn faces and sober, gray garments.
"Thee is late to-night," said Timothy Matlack.
"I was detained at several places," explained Nathan. "I came as quickly as I could."
"And is thee ready to serve us as before?"
"Ready and willing, sir."
"This is a task of greater peril and difficulty," said Anthony Benezet. "We have tidings for General Washington which cannot be conveyed verbally, and should reach him before morning. Here is the packet," drawing a sealed and folded paper from his bosom. "Thee must slip unseen through the enemy's lines. It is the only way."
"I will do it," Nathan replied firmly. "There are many weak places, and the night is dark. I am not afraid."
"Thou art a brave lad," said Anthony Benezet, "and God will protect thee. So, now hasten on thy journey. When thou hast passed the sentries, go to the house of Abel Sansom, on the Germantown Road. He will give thee a horse for the ride to Valley Forge."
Nathan concealed the precious packet about his clothes, and turned toward the door.