My Lady of Doubt. Randall Parrish

his hand.

      "No doubt we have met before," he said slowly. "You have been with us for some time?"

      "My first action was at Harlem, sir."

      "You could not have been at Valley Forge during the past winter, however?"

      "I was with the Marquis de la Fayette at Albany."

      "Ah, yes," his face clouding at the recollection. "A young officer, Hamilton, but capable, no doubt. You have used him before, you said?"

      "Yes, at Long Island, and he entered New York once at my request."

      Washington's gray eyes were still on my face.

      "Lawrence is a Massachusetts name."

      "Not exclusively," I returned, "as our branch are Virginians."

      The stern lines about the mouth relaxed into a smile.

      "Indeed; from the Eastern shore then. I recall now having once met a Judge John Lawrence, whose wife was a Lee."

      "My father, sir."

      His hand rested firm on my shoulder, as his glance turned to Hamilton.

      "I require no further commendation, Colonel. You will find the papers in the second drawer. Please explain all the details carefully to Major Lawrence."

      He bowed toward me, and sank back once more into his chair, one hand shading the eyes that still regarded us. Hamilton opened the drawer designated, extracted an official document, and addressed me rapidly in lowered voice.

      "This is a simple duty, Major, but may prove a dangerous one. You have been selected because of previous successful efforts of a similar nature, but the Commander-in-chief does not order your going; we seek a volunteer."

      "Without asking the nature of the service," I answered sincerely, "I rejoice at the privilege."

      "I knew that, Lawrence," heartily. "That answer accords with your well earned reputation throughout the army. I will explain briefly the situation. Early this evening our pickets—or rather some partisan scouts near Newtown—captured a British officer, in field uniform, on his way from New York to Sir William Howe in Philadelphia. The prisoner was brought here, and on examination proved to be Lieutenant Edgar Fortesque of the 42nd Regiment of Foot. These troops came over with the last detachment, and arrived in New York less than a month ago. On searching Fortesque's clothing we found this despatch," holding out the sealed paper, "which we opened. It is not of any great military importance, being merely an order for Howe to proceed at once to New York, taking with him certain officers of his staff, and placing a naval vessel at his disposal."

      He paused, turning the paper over in his hands.

      "However," he went on slowly, "it affords us the opportunity we have long been seeking of getting a competent military observer into Philadelphia. Now that Sir Henry Clinton is in command of the British forces directly opposing us, it is necessary that we know accurately their number, state of discipline, guns, and any point of weakness in the defences of the city. We require also information regarding the division of troops under Sir Henry's command—the proportion of British, Hessians, and Tories, together with some inkling as to Clinton's immediate plans. There is a rumor abroad that Philadelphia is to be evacuated, and that the British forces contemplate a retreat overland to New York. Civilian fugitives drift into our camp constantly, bearing all manner of wild reports, but these accounts are so varied as to be practically valueless. We must possess accurate details, and to gain these a man would need to be in the city several days, free to move about, observe, and converse with the officers of the garrison. Do I make myself clear?"

      "Yes, sir; you propose forwarding the despatch by an officer who shall impersonate this captured Lieutenant."

      "Exactly. Fortesque is a young fellow about your age, and build. He has been in the army only eight months, and in this country less than thirty days. It is scarcely probable he is known personally to any of the present Philadelphia garrison. There is a risk, of course, but in this case it would seem to be small." He picked up a paper from off the table. "Here is an officer's roster of the 42nd Regiment. It might be well for you to familiarize yourself with a few of the names."

      I studied the list a moment, bending down closer to the nearest candle, while rapidly reviewing in my own mind the duty required. I had no thought of refusal, yet appreciated to the full the possible danger of the venture, and felt anxious to make no serious mistake. I had achieved a reputation for reckless daring, yet this kind of service was hardly to my liking. To wear British uniform meant my condemnation as a spy, if discovered, and a death of disgrace. I had been within the lines of the enemy often before, but always as a scout, wearing the homespun of the Maryland Line, but this was to be a masquerade, a juggling with chance. I was not greatly afraid of being unmasked by the officers of the garrison, but there were those then in Philadelphia who knew me—loyalists, secret sympathizers with our cause, and not a few deserters from the army—whom I might encounter at any turn in the road. The prospect was not alluring, yet a glance aside at the profile of Washington, now bending low over a mass of papers, instantly stiffened my resolve. It was work I had no excuse to shirk—indeed no inclination—so I returned Hamilton's glance of inquiry frankly.

      "You wish me to go at once?"

"I studied the list a moment, bending down closer to the nearest candle"

      "The earlier the better. I will furnish passports through our lines, and hard riding will put you across the neutral ground by daylight."

      "One moment, Major," interrupted Washington quietly. "You were doubtless acquainted with our late Inspector-General?"

      "Yes," my face darkening.

      "He is now in Philadelphia, and it might be safer were you to avoid meeting him."

      "General Washington," I said frankly, "I have been loyal to you through all this controversy, but, nevertheless, have retained my friendship with General Conway. I believe the misunderstanding between you is entirely personal, and in no way affects his loyalty to the cause. Whatever his present relations may be with the British commander, I have the utmost faith that he would not betray me to either death, or imprisonment."

      "I am glad to hear your words," and the kindly face instantly brightened. "This entire controversy has been most unfortunate, with wrong no doubt upon both sides. Unquestionably you are right, yet I felt it my duty to warn you of his presence at Clinton's headquarters. God bless you, my boy, good-bye."

      I grasped the hand extended across the table, and followed Hamilton from the room, Gibbs still standing motionless and silent before the fireplace.

CHAPTER II

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WITHIN THE ENEMY'S LINES

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      A long cavalry cape concealing the British uniform I wore, my horse and myself were ferried across the Schuylkill, just below the mouth of Valley Creek, and there, amid the silence and darkness of the eastern shore, I parted with Hamilton, who had accompanied me thus far, whispering final words of instruction. My horse was a fresh one, chosen from the stables of the Life Guard, but the trappings were of the British service. Within five minutes I was out of sight of the picket fire on the river bank, riding steadily southeast through the night, every nerve alert. An hour's riding found me well beyond our outermost pickets, yet, in fear that I might encounter some body of irregulars, scouting the neutral ground, I held on to my passport until I perceived the first flush of dawn in the east. Then, convinced of close proximity to the British guard-lines, I tore the paper into fragments. Avoiding all roads,