"Wait," said Timothy Matlack. "Did thee destroy the message I sent thee by Jenkins' man?"
"I—I think I put it in my pocket," faltered Nathan, making a hasty search. "But it is not here now, sir. I fear I have lost it."
"Where, lad? not on the street?"
"Yes," Nathan admitted huskily, "up near the barracks." He remembered pulling out his handkerchief while talking to Godfrey. The note must have fallen out then, and he shivered to think of the possible consequences of the loss.
"What rashness and folly!" groaned Timothy Matlack. "We are ruined, Anthony—"
"Do not blame the lad," said his companion. "It was but a pardonable want of caution. All may be well if we can get safely out of the house. Go, Nathan—"
Too late! Just then came a clatter of feet from down-stairs, and a couple of sharp words of command, a confused tumult arose and Jenkins was heard expostulating in loud and indignant tones in the tap-room. Next a door banged open, and the lower hall echoed to the tread of booted feet.
For a few seconds after the disturbance began the occupants of the little room stared at one another in dazed terror.
"The note has been found," gasped Timothy Matlack, "and British soldiers have come to search the house. We will all be hanged!"
"They must catch us first," exclaimed Nathan, extinguishing the candle with a puff, and darting to the window. "We are trapped," he added, with a gloomy glance at the street below. "Two grenadiers are on the pavement."