"Yes, I have surmised," was the reply.

"Gone, an' all belongin' to 'im."

"And closed his mansion?" Stephen inquired.

"Tight. Mrs. Arnold went with him. They left yesterday."

"But I thought----"

"To the army? I understand he had been appointed to field duty under
Washington. Second in Command, they say. But that has been changed. He
has gone to West Point."

Stephen did not answer.

"It seems," went on Mr. Allison, "that he has been seeking a change of
post for several months. His leg still bothers him, however, and very
likely prevented him from doing active duty in the field. On that
account, it has been said, he was given charge of the fortress. It is an
important post, nevertheless, and carries with it a certain amount of
distinction."

"Hope he gits along better with 'em up there 'n he did here," remarked
Jim. "He won't hev the s'ciety folks t' bother 'im now."

"When did he leave?"

"No one knows. There was no demonstration of any kind. It differed much
from the farewell of General Howe. Arnold left in disgrace, it would
seem," said the Inn-keeper, as he moved away to give his attention to
other business.

"And Peggy gone, too?" Stephen was genuinely surprised at this, for he
rather expected that she would remain with her mother.

"I am sure that the majority of our people are greatly pleased at the
change," said Mr. Allison. "I never saw one sink to such depths of
contempt. He came to the city as Military Governor in a blaze of
triumph, the most celebrated soldier in the army, whose rise to popular
esteem was only accelerated by the knowledge of the harsh treatment
received by him at the hands of Congress after the battle of Saratoga.
He was the idol alike of soldiers and civilians. Their hearts were his
without the asking. That was two years ago. Today he left the city in
the fullness of his years, in secret, after so many plaudits, in
obloquy, after so much honor."

"It is a sad commentary on human nature," Stephen observed. "Yet in all
things else I blame the woman. 'Cherchez la femme.'"

The room already was reeky from the clouds of tobacco smoke streaming
upwards from the pipes of the several guests who were lounging in small
groups about the room. There were several parties in as many corners,
each wholly unconcerned about the other. The conversation of our trio
was therefore private insofar as any privacy can be expected in an inn.
Only the boisterous individual made himself heard,