furrows across his forehead and down the
sides of his mouth. His eyes, too, had lost their old-time flash and
vivacity, his movements were more sluggish, his step more halting. The
trials of the past year had left their visible tracings on him.

He sat and stroked his chin, and deliberated. In his hand he held a
letter, a letter without date or address or salutation. It had been
brought to him that day by messenger from the city. He understood it
perfectly.

He looked at it again.

"Knyphausen is in New Jersey," it read, "but, understanding Arnold is
about to command the American Army in the field, Clinton will attack
Washington at once. The bearer may be trusted.

"ANDERSON."

II

"It is either Westminster Abbey for me or the gallows," he remarked to
his wife that evening when they were quite alone.

"You have no apprehensions, I hope."

"There's many a slip----" he quoted.

"Come! Be an optimist. You have set your heart on it. So be brave."

"I have never lacked courage. At Saratoga while that scapegoat Gates
sulked in his tent, I burst from the camp on my big brown horse and rode
like a madman to the head of Larned's brigade, my old command, and we
took the hill. Fear? I never knew what the word meant. Dashing back to
the center, I galloped up and down before the line. We charged twice,
and the enemy broke and fled. Then I turned to the left and ordered
West and Livingston with Morgan's corps to make a general assault along
the line. Here we took the key to the enemy's position and there was
nothing for them to do but to retreat. At the same instant one bullet
killed my good brown horse under me and another entered my leg. But the
battle had been won."

"Never mind, my dear, the world yet lies before you."

"I won the war for them, damn 'em, in a single battle, and
single-handed. Lord North knew it. The Rockingham Whigs, with Burke as
their leader, knew it and were ready to concede independence, having
been convinced that conciliation was no longer practicable or possible.
Richmond urged the impossibility of final conquest, and even Gibbon
agreed that the American colonies had been lost. I accomplished all
that, I tell you, and I received--what?--a dead horse and a wounded
leg."

There was a flash of the old-time general, but only a flash. It was
evident that he was tiring easily. His old-time stamina had abandoned
him.

"Why do you so excite