rafton hath your welfare at heart, I think. His affection for you as
his brother's son is great."

O that I had spoken the words that burned my tongue!

Christmas fell upon Monday of that year, 1769. There was to be a ball at
Upper Marlboro on the Friday before, to which many of us were invited.
Though the morning came in with a blinding snowstorm from the north, the
first of that winter, about ten of the clock we set out from Annapolis an
exceeding merry party, the ladies in four coaches-and-six, the gentlemen
and their servants riding at the wheels. We laughed and joked despite
the storm, and exchanged signals with the fair ones behind the glasses.

But we had scarce got two miles beyond the town gate when a messenger
overtook us with a note for Mr. Carvel, writ upon an odd slip of paper,
and with great apparent hurry:

HONOURED SIR,

"I have but just come to Annapolis from New York, with Instructions to
put into your Hands, & no Others, a Message of the greatest Import.
Hearing you are but now set out for Upper Marlboro I beg of you to return
for half an Hour to the Coffee House. By so doing you will be of service
to a Friend, and confer a Favour upon y'r most ob'd't Humble Servant,

"SILAS RIDGEWAY."

Our cavalcade had halted while I read, the ladies letting down the
glasses and leaning out in their concern lest some trouble had befallen
me or my grandfather. I answered them and bade them ride on, vowing that
I would overtake the coaches before they reached the Patuxent. Then I
turned Cynthia's head for town, with Hugo at my heels.

Patty, leaning from the window of the last coach, called out to me as I
passed. I waved my hand in return, and did not remember until long after
the anxiety in her eyes.

As I rode, and I rode hard, I pondered over the words of this letter. I
knew not this Mr. Ridgeway from the Lord Mayor of London; but I came to
the conclusion before I had reprised the gate that his message was from
Captain Daniel. And I greatly feared that some evil had befallen my good
friend. So I came to the Coffee House, and throwing my bridle to Hugo, I
ran in.

I found Mr. Ridgeway neither in the long room nor in the billiard room
nor the bar. Mr. Claude told me that indeed a man had arrived that
morning from the North, a spare person with a hooked nose and scant hair,
in a brown greatcoat with a torn cape. He had gone forth afoot half an
hour since. His messenger, a negro lad whose face I knew, was in