Part 19 (1/2)
”But why should Claire have been here,” he asked, as though dazed, ”unless she came to meet her brother? I supposed her safe in the city.”
”I do not pretend to understand the cause of her presence. But if you listen to my story you may know what to do.” I paused an instant to get a grip on my thoughts. I need not tell all, confess my ident.i.ty, or mention my personal relations with the daughter. ”I am a soldier, Colonel Mortimer, in Maxwell's Brigade, of Was.h.i.+ngton's army. What brought me here has nothing to do with the present story. I was in the fight over yonder near Mount Laurel night before last when we captured Delavan's forage train--”
”What!” burst in the dragoon officer. ”Was Delavan defeated, then? Hadn't Grant joined him?”
”Yes to both questions, sir. Delavan was killed, and Grant surrendered.
He and his men were paroled, and started for Philadelphia last evening from here.”
”From here!” incredulously. ”That must be a lie, Colonel, for Mount Laurel is between here and the city.”
”Nevertheless, it is no lie,” I retorted promptly, looking the young fool in the eyes. ”I was hiding here for reasons of my own when they came tramping in along that road about the middle of the forenoon yesterday.
There was near a hundred Hessians and Rangers, with two German officers, and Grant. I heard them tell Mistress Mortimer this was the nearest place where they were sure of finding provisions, and that they intended to remain until night. I don't know what happened after that, except that the officers went inside, and the men marched around to the back to eat their breakfast.”
”What became of you?”
”Oh, I had other business, and never got back along here until just at daylight this morning. Then I found things this way.”
”You don't know what occurred, then?”
”No more than you do. But I've got my opinion. It's this--Grant and his fellows must have left as soon as it was dark, taking the west road, which was the cause of your missing them. It is likely from this man Mike's body, that your daughter and her party were still in the house. It couldn't have been much later when these others got here and made the attack. Mike must have fought them at the front door, but that was all the fight made; there's no sign of any struggle inside.”
”Then they never got Claire,” declared Mortimer positively. ”That's a certainty, Seldon.”
”She would have fought, sir?”
”Like a tiger. I know my little girl. And, besides, Peter would have died before the hand of one of those villains was ever laid upon her.”
”But,” I protested, ”I have searched the house, Colonel.”
”I imagine your acquaintance with the house is somewhat limited,” he replied coldly, turning away. ”Seldon, place this fellow under guard in the library here. We will learn later what his business might be in the Jerseys.”
CHAPTER XX
AT CROSS PURPOSES
It could not be considered an unpleasant place of imprisonment, yet it was useless for me to contrive any plans of immediate escape, for the door was securely locked, and two heavily armed dragoons sat within eying me rather malevolently. My attempt at approaching the window was instantly checked by a threatening gesture, and I sat down in the reading chair to await developments. They could not m.u.f.fle my ears, however, and I heard the swift hoof-beats of an approaching horse being ridden furiously up the gravel driveway. At the door he was hastily checked, and a voice spoke peremptorily:
”Here you, take the rein!”
The fellow came up the steps hurriedly, almost ignoring the sentry at the door.
”I haven't time to stand here, you fool,” he exclaimed roughly. ”My uniform is pa.s.s enough. I wish to see Colonel Mortimer at once--at once.”
There was a pause, and then the same voice, and I recognized it now as Grant's beyond a doubt. ”Ah, Colonel, what in G.o.d's name has happened here? I heard that you were out hunting us at Farrell's blacksmith shop, and came back as swiftly as I could ride. But I never suspected this. Who were the miscreants?”
”That is a question not yet answered, Captain Grant,” replied Mortimer slowly. ”It looks like the work of Pine Robbers. Do you recognize this fellow?”
”Ay,” and from the m.u.f.fled tone he must have been bending over the body, ”that is 'Tough' Sims, a lieutenant of 'Red' f.a.gin; there's one more devil gone to h.e.l.l. But when did the attack occur? We left here after dark, and all was quiet enough then. Claire--”