g Mr. Anderson."

"I know him," remarked Marjorie.

"You know him?"

"I met him last evening at Shippens'."

"Did he say aught about me?"

"Not a word."

"Well, he appeared against me. After a few more preliminary questions I
was put on the stand in my own defense. I told briefly the circumstances
which led to the incident (I would not call it an assault, for I
continually maintained it to be of a trivial nature and worthy only of
an explanation). I told how the Colonel had used certain derogatory
remarks against the faith that I believed and practiced, which
occasioned a violent argument. This, I think, was the great mistake I
made, for it appeared to make an unfavorable impression upon the Court.
In this respect they were unquestionably on the side of Forrest. Then I
related the remark incident to my action, and announced that I would
repeat the deed under similar circumstances were the same disrespectful
language directed against the Commander-in-chief. This, I fear, made
little impression either since I was already attached to the staff of
General Washington. And a jealous rival general was about to decide my
guilt. That ended it. I was excused and the Court adjourned."

He paused.

"For these reasons I have serious misgivings as to my fate."

"What can happen to you?"

"I do not know. It may result in a suspension, and it may result in a
verdict of 'not guilty.'"

"Will you know very soon?"

"I shall be summoned before them."

Neither spoke for a time.

"Do you know," observed Marjorie, "I greatly mistrust General Arnold and
I fear that he already has decided against you."

"What causes you to say that?"

"Well ... I don't know ... I just think it. While listening to him last
evening I drew that impression."

"Did he say anything against us?"

"He is enraged at Congress and he has long felt persecuted and insulted
by the people. He desires a command in the navy and has already written
Washington to that effect; and again he would petition Congress for a
grant of land in New York where he would retire to private life, for he
vows he never will again draw sword on the American side."

"Did he say this?" asked Stephen.

"He did."

"Do you think that he was sincere?"

"I really do. He talked with all the earnestness of a man of
conviction. Somehow or other I greatly mistrust him. And he is extremely
bigoted."

"I rather suspect this, although I have had no proofs of it. If he is,
it wil