"I have no desire to make a speech," Stephen began, "but I have asked for this privilege of addressing you because we are moving through critical times and because there are serious decisions to be made this evening, which it is neither right nor possible for us to make without a full consideration of the state of affairs. I have devoted much serious thought to this subject. I have labored to arrive at a just conclusion, and it is in that spirit that I would speak. I feel, too, that I have an inalienable right as a free-born citizen to express my views freely and publicly, as befits a loyal adherent of the principles which we are now defending with our blood. And first among those principles is that which guarantees representation in all matters that are of vital concern to us."
He had not left his chair but continued to talk from his place beside it, turning, however, somewhat in the direction of his audience. Silence reigned throughout the room and every face was turned full upon him.
"I, too, had accepted the terms of enlistment on the plea of the acquisition of our rights, so admirably exposed to us by our good friend, Mr. Anderson. As I pondered the matter, however, I seriously questioned whether this were the proper time for the employment of such methods. What assurance have we,—if indeed assurance be needed,—that this is not anothertrick of the enemy? Bear with me, please, while I unfold to you my thoughts.
"Our leader and our guide in these matters, Mr. Anderson, has made known to us that this business of recruiting has been a great success. But did he tell us of the sinister methods which often had been resorted to, of the many threats which had been exercised over a great number of us, of the debts which had been relieved, of the intimidation which had been employed? He declared with manifest satisfaction that the recruiting in the city of New York had been marvelous in its results, yet he did not explain to our satisfaction the reason which impelled the leaders of this revolt to seek members from the neighboring cities to help swell the ranks; nor did he tell of the means which had been made use of to secure that marvelous number in the city, of all cities, where such recruiting would be most successful because of the present British occupation of the territory. Furthermore, he failed to tell us that he himself is not a Catholic, or that his true name is not Anderson, or of his history previous to his appearance in this city. Neither did he tell us that Lieutenant-Colonel Clifton, while a Philadelphia Catholic, is a British subject, having accepted British allegiance on the capture of the city a year ago last September. There were many items of importance which were not revealed to us. Shall I continue? I have an abundance of facts to disclose to you, if you give me leave."
So favorable had been the impression produced by the speech of Anderson that Stephen felt apprehensive lest his own criticism and contradiction would not be accepted as true. And so he paused to learn if possible the nature of his reception.
"Yes!... We want to hear them!... Tell us more!..."
There was a wild outburst of approval, followed by a generous handclapping. In the confusion, Stephen observed Anderson together with Colonel Clifton leave their places on the platform and take seats on the side of the room.
"It is quite true that we have no quarrel with the English people. We have no quarrel with their king or the framers of their laws. It is equally true that the governments of Great Britain and the United Colonies have become involved in a military struggle, a struggle to the death; nevertheless we would be the last to imply that there exists any essential antagonism of interests or purposes between the two peoples. We are not engaged in a contest between Englishmen and Americans, but between two antagonistic principles of government, each of which has its advocates and its opponents among us who sit here, among those who live with us in our own country, among those who reside in far-off England. The contest is a political contest, the ancient contest between the Whig and the Tory principles of government, the contest of Chatham and North, and Richmond, Rockingham and Burke transferred to this side of the Atlantic. The political liberty to which we have dedicated ourselves is no product of our imaginations; our forefathers of the seventeenth century brought it to our shores and now we naturally refuse to surrender it. It is the principle for which we are contending,—the principles that these United Colonies are and of a right ought to be free and independent states; and in all matters else we are loyal foster children of His Majesty the King, as loyal and as interested a people in the welfare of themother country as the most devoted subject of the crown residing in the city of London.
"War was inevitable. This has been known for some time; but there has been no lack of cordiality between the people of the United Kingdom and the people of the United Colonies. We are opposed to certain principles of statecraft, to the principle of taxation without representation, to the same degree as are the Whigs of our mother country. We cherish the warmest sentiments of love and admiration for the English people and we are ready to become their brothers in arms at any future date for the defense of those very ideals which we are now trying to establish,—the blessings of democracy; but we abominate autocracy and will have none of it. In this regard we may be said to have disinfected our anger, but never to have diluted it."
The Tory element moved about in their seats, and Stephen suspected for a moment that he was being treated with an air of disdain. He shifted his point of view suddenly.
"To say that the Catholic people of this country are dissatisfied with the conduct of the war is begging the question, and brands them with a stigma which they wholly undeserve. We admit for the sake of argument that our early cousins may have proved themselves somewhat intolerant, and, perhaps, rendered conditions of life disagreeable to us; still gold must be tried by the fire. We grow vigorous under storms of persecution. And while it is true that the American Congress of 1774 protested against the legislature of Great Britain establishing a 'religion fraught with impious tenets,' yet it is equally true that the Congressof 1776 resolved to protect 'all foreigners in the free exercise of their respective religions.' The past has been buried by this; the future lies before us.
"We do not grieve on that account. Rather are we proud of our adhesion to the cause of independence, and you, yourselves, are no less proud of your own efforts in this regard. The Commander-in-chief is warmly disposed towards the Catholic element, not alone in the army, but among the citizenry. His own bodyguard is composed of men, more than thirty of whom bear Catholic names. One of his aides, Colonel Fitzgerald, is a Catholic. His Captain and Commander of the Navy, nominated and appointed by himself, is a Catholic, John Barry. We are appreciative of the services of our General, and we are ready to render ourselves worthy of the esteem and the respect in which we are held by him, as was evidenced by his abolition of the celebration of Guy Fawkes Day, so detestable to us.
"I repeat this to impress upon you that this is not the time for religious controversy or for nicely calculating the scope and the extent of our service. The temper of the times requires unity of action and definition of purpose. Our people respect us. Whatever restrictions were lodged against us in the past have been broken down now before the battering ram of public opinion. The guarantees for the future given by our own brethren, that we shall be permitted the free and unrestricted exercise of our religious observances as well as the right to worship God according to the dictates of our own consciences, are of more endurable texture than the flimsy promises of the enemy. Our noble and generous ally, France, already has procured for us that respect and recognition soindispensable to our safety and, contrary to the opinion already expressed here tonight, has sent us six thousand men, the first installment of an army of at least twelve thousand trained soldiers, destined to be put directly under General Washington's command. Together with these she has already furnished Congress with large sums of money to enable us to carry on the war. The dawn of a brighter day is now breaking over the horizon and in the east the sun of justice and of toleration and of liberty may be seen breaking through the low-hung clouds of oppression, prejudice and tyranny which have so long obscured it. In our history there has been no coward, no Tory, no traitor of our faith. We are still Loyalists; but of different type. That precious and historic document of July 4, 1776, definitely and for all time absolved us from all allegiance to the British Crown. By nature, then, we have become citizens of a new government, a government instituted by and subject to the peoples of these free and independent states. Henceforth, Loyalty assumes a newer and most lasting significance;—it has suddenly become for us synonymous with the best and dearest interests of our country."
He paused.
The sigh throughout the room was distinctly audible as he ended his paragraph with a rhetorical pause. He caught the sound on the instant and understood its meaning as the orator, holding his audience in breathless intensity, allows them to drop suddenly that he may appreciate his control of their feelings. Their pent-up energies give way to an abrupt relaxation followed by a slight scuffling of the body or anintermittent cough. From these unconscious indications, Stephen knew that he had held their interest and he did not intend that they should be allowed to compose themselves quite, until he had finished. He began at once on the evidence of the plot.
"The members of this proposed company before whom I have the privilege of speaking, have been the victims of a gigantic plot, a plot that found its origin in the headquarters of the British army at New York City. It was to advance the plan that John Anderson came to Philadelphia. He had carried on communication with the enemy almost without interruption. Because the work of recruiting in the city of the enemy was a failure, it was decreed that the city of Philadelphia, as the most Tory of the American cities, be called upon for the requisite number. Of the progress here, you already know. Of the multifarious means employed, you yourselves can bear excellent witness. Of the ultimate success of the venture you are now about to decide.
"The Military Governor, General Arnold, was early initiated into the scheme. For a long time he has borne a fierce grudge against Congress, and he hoped that the several Catholic members of the body might be induced to forsake the American cause. They sought Father Farmer, our good pastor, as chaplain of the regiment, but he refused with mingled delicacy and tact. Indeed, were it not for the hostile state of the public mind, a campaign of violence would have been resorted to; but Arnold felt the pulse of dislike throbbing in the heart of the community and very wisely refrained from increasing its fervor. All possible aid was furnished by him, however, in a secret manner. His counsel was generously given. Many of yournames were supplied by him together with an estimate of your financial standing, your worth in the community, your political tendencies, the strength of your religious convictions. And what a comparatively simple matter it was for one thus equipped to accomplish so marvelous and so satisfactory results!
"I repeat, then, General Arnold is strongly prejudiced against us. It is an open secret that Catholic soldiers have fared ill at his hands. Tories and Jews compose his retinue, but no Catholics. I am not critical in this respect for I observe that he is enjoying but a personal privilege. But I allude to this fact at this moment to assure you that this scheme of forming a regiment of Roman Catholic Volunteers is directed solely to subvert the good relations already existing between us and our brethren in arms. The promises made bore no hope of fulfillment. The guarantees of immunity deserve no consideration. The Quebec Act, and for this I might say in passing that we are duly grateful, was never to be extended. In view of these observations, I ask you: are you willing to continue with this nefarious business? Are you?"
"No!" was the interruption. The outburst was riotous. "Arrest the traitor!... I move we adjourn!..."
Stephen held out his hands in supplication to beseech them to hear him further.
"Please, gentlemen! Just one more word," he pleaded.
They stood still and listened.
"Has it occurred to you, let me ask, that the vessel which has been engaged to transport you to the city of New York is named theIsis, a sloop well known to sea-faring men of this city? She is owned byPhiladelphia citizens and manned by a local crew. Does not this strike you as remarkably strange and significant,—that a vessel of this character should clear this port and enter the port of the enemy without flying the enemy's flag? Think of it, gentlemen! An American vessel with an American crew employed by the enemy, and chartered to aid and abet the enemy's cause!"
They resumed their seats to give their undivided attention to this new topic of interest. Some sat alert, only partly on the chair; some sat forward with their chins resting in the palms of their hands. So absorbed were all in astonishment and amazement, that no other thought gave them any concern save that of the vessel. The side door had opened and closed, yet no one seemed to notice the occurrence. Even Stephen had failed to observe it.
"As a matter of fact," he continued, "the ship has not been chartered by the enemy. She is about to clear this port and enter the port of the enemy by virtue of a pass issued through General Arnold.... Please, just a moment, until I conclude," he exclaimed, holding out his hand with a restraining gesture. "This matter has heretofore been a close secret, but it is necessary now that the truth should be known. To issue a pass for such an errand is a violation of the American Articles of War and for this offense I now formally charge Major-General Benedict Arnold with treason."
"The traitor!... Court-martial him!..." shouted several voices.
"I charge him with being unfaithful to his trust. He had made use of our wagons to transport the property of the enemy at a time when the lines of communication of the enemy were no farther distant than Egg Harbor. He has allowed many of our people toenter and leave the lines of the enemy. He has illegally concerned himself over the profits of a privateer. He has imposed, or at any rate has given his sanction to the imposition of menial offices upon the sons of freedom who are now serving in the militia, as was the case with young Matlack, which you will remember. And he has of late improperly granted a pass for a vessel to clear for the port of the enemy. I desire to make these charges publicly in order that you may know that my criticisms are not without foundation. I have in view your welfare alone."
"Aye!... We believe you!... Let us adjourn!"
"Let me ask Mr. Anderson one or two questions. If they can be answered to your satisfaction we shall accept his overtures. On the other hand let us dispense once and for all with this nefarious business and frustrate this insidious conspiracy so that we may renew our energies for the task before us which alone matters—the task of overcoming the enemy.
"First! Who has financed the organization, equipment, transportation of this regiment of Roman Catholic Volunteers?
"Second: From what source or sources originated the various methods of blackmail?
"Third: Who first suggested the coöperation of General Arnold?
"Fourth: What pressure was brought to bear in the obtaining of the passport for the vessel to clear port?"
But there was no Anderson to give answer. It was found that he, together with Colonel Clifton andseveral members of the party, had disappeared from the room. No one had remembered seeing them take their departure, yet it was observed that they had left the platform in the course of Stephen's speech to take seats on the further side of the hall, near to the door. This might have opened and closed several times during Stephen's speech, and, more especially, at the time when they had crowded the aisles near the close of the address, and little or no attention would have been paid to it. Very likely Anderson had taken advantage of such an opportunity to make an escape.
It was a very different room now. What had been a state of remarkable quiet with every man in his seat, with the conversation hardly above the tone of a whisper, with the uniform tranquillity disturbed solely by the remarks of the two speakers, was now giving way to a precipitous uproar which approached a riot. Men surged about one another and about Stephen in an endeavor to learn the details of the plot. Groups separated themselves from other equally detached groups, all absorbed, however, in the same topic. Voices, formerly hushed, now became vociferous. The walls reverberated with the tumultuous confusion.
"What dupes!" one was remarking to his neighbor. "How easily were we led by his smooth talk!"
"We were misguided in our motives of allegiance. We might have sensed a trick of the enemy," was the reply.
"Let us win the war, first," shouted a third.
"Aye! Freedom first; then religious liberty."
"Who is he?" another asked. "It cannot be Cadwalader."
"No," answered the neighbor. "This wasprearranged. He borrowed Cadwalader's card to come here."
"I always told you Arnold was no good," sounded a great voice. "He'd sell us to the devil if he could get paid for it. I suppose he'll go to New York sure."
"Let him. Wish he was out of here."
"Say!" one asked Stephen rather abruptly. "How did you get all this straight?"
"I interested myself the moment the scheme took root. I assured myself that all was not as it should be and I took pains to verify my suspicions," was the grave reply.
"I know, but how did ye get 'em?"
"By following every move this Anderson made. I tracked him even to Mount Pleasant."
"And got beforehand with Arnold?"
"I overheard the major portion of the conversation."
"Pardon me," asked another individual, neater in appearance than the majority, and evidently of more education, "but have I not seen you before?"
"Perhaps you have," laughed Stephen.
"Where?"
"I could not begin to imagine."
"Where do you live? In town?"
"For the present, yes."
"Who are you?"
"Can't you see? Just one of you?"
"Never saw you in those clothes before. If I am not greatly mistaken you are the one who came to the Coffee House one day with Matt. Allison."
"Yes," admitted Stephen, "I am the same."
"How did you come by those clothes?"
"Borrowed them."
"In disguise, eh?"
"It was necessary to simulate a disguise. Otherwise I could never have gained admission here. I learned that Jim Cadwalader had been impressed into the company and I arranged to come in his place."
"Oh!"
"You took a mighty big risk."
"It was required. But I knew that there was but one way of playing this game and that was to defeat them openly by their own tactics. I had to depend, of course, upon the temper of the proposed members. All might be lost or won at one throw of the dice. I worded my remarks to that effect, and I won."
"What did you say your name was?"
"I did not say what it was," Stephen exchanged in good-natured repartee, "but since you ask, it is Meagher."
"Captain Meagher?"
Stephen smiled.
It must have been fully half-past nine when the meeting broke up; and that was at the departure of Stephen. He had lingered long enough to assure himself that the company was of a mind far different from that which had engaged them upon their arrival. They were now to go forth wiser men. But they knew that the people of the city could be moved quickly to indignation—as quickly, indeed, as they could be moved to favor. And how were they to explain their conduct? They resolved to lay the story with all its details before the very table of public opinion and allow that tribunal to discriminate between the shades of guilt.
Anderson, of course, had fled. That in itself was a confession and a point in their favor. It was plain totheir minds that they had been victimized by the clever machinations of this man. If there had been any lack of unity of opinion concerning the righteousness of the project before, there was no divided opinion now. They knew what they were about to do, and they made all possible haste to put their thought into execution.
The ancient antipathy against the Military Governor was only intensified the more. Rumor would confirm the charges that would be published against him, of that they would take proper care. It was enough that they had been deluded by Anderson, but to be mere pawns in the hands of Arnold was more than they could stand. Too long had he been tolerated with his Tory wife and her manner of living, and now was an opportunity. Their path of duty was outlined before them.
Thoroughly satisfied with his evening's work, Stephen turned down the street whistling softly to himself.
"Come!" said Stephen in response to the soft knock upon his door panel. "Just a minute."
He arose from his knees from the side of his bed. It was his custom to pray in this posture both morning and night; in the morning to thank his Lord for having brought him safely through the night and to offer Him all his prayers and works and sufferings of the day. At night to implore pardon for his shortcomings of the day and to commend himself into the hands of his Creator. This morning, however, the noise of heavy footsteps on the stairway had caused him to abbreviate somewhat his devotional exercise.
"Come in!" he repeated as he slipped back the bolt and opened the door. "Oh! Good morning! You're out early. How are you?"
He shook the hands of his early morning visitors warmly.
"Fine morning!" replied Mr. Allison. "Sorry to have disturbed you, but Jim was around early and desired to see you."
"Sure! No disturbance at all, I assure you. I was on the point of leaving for breakfast."
"Go right ahead. Please don't delay on our account. We can wait. Go ahead," expostulated Mr. Allison.
"We want'd t' be sure an' git ye, thet wuz all,"remarked Jim. "Eat first. We'll be here when y' git back."
"Sit down and make yourselves comfortable," and he arranged several chairs about the room. "I overslept, I fear. Last night taxed me."
"You did justice to yourself and to us last night. The splendid result was your reward."
They were seated, Jim by the window, Mr. Allison at Stephen's desk. The disorder of early morning was apparent in the room, the furniture disarranged and all manner of clothing, bed covering, wearing apparel, towels, piled or thrown carelessly about. No one seemed to mind it, however, for no one paused to rearrange it.
"It wuz a big night. Tell us how did ye git along with 'em?" asked Jim.
"Much better than I had anticipated," Stephen replied. "I thought that Anderson's talk had won them entirely, but when I asked for the floor, I saw at once that many were with me. Had you instructed them?" This question was directed towards Jim.
"I did. I saw a doz'n at least. You know they had no use fur th' thing and were glad o' th' chance. I made a big secret out o' it, and they watch'd fur my ol' clothes."
"I thought I felt their glances. They stuck true, you may be assured. I knew, too, that I possessed a reserve blow in the affair of theIsis. The mention of Arnold's name inflamed them."
"I am sorry to have missed that," Mr. Allison said.
"How did they avoid you?" Stephen asked.
"I don't know. I was never approached although I had been acquainted with the rumors of the thing right along. I suppose they figured that I wouldthreaten them with exposure. They knew where I stood; and then again they knew that they could threaten me with no debts. For some reason or other they thought best to avoid me."
"I guess we killed it for good."
"Kill'd it?" exclaimed Jim. "It's deader 'n a six-day corpse. An' there's great talk goin' on t'day on all th' corners. We're right wid th' peepul y' kin bet, and they thought best to avoid me."
"Have you noticed any agitation?"
"There has been a little disturbance," Mr. Allison admitted, "but no violence. It has been talk more than anything. Many are wondering who you are and how you obtained your information. Others are considerably taken back by the unveiling of Anderson. The greatest of respect is being shown to us on the street, and congratulations are being offered to us from all sides."
"I am glad the sentiment has changed. It now looks like the dawn of a better day. We should be spurred on, however, to greater endeavor in the manifestation of our loyalty, especially among the minority Tory element."
Outside, the street was beginning to feel the impulse of life. Over across, the buildings shone with the brightness of the morning sun which was reflected mildly from the glassy windows. There was a silent composure about it all, with no sound save the footfalls of the passing horse or the rattle of the business wagon. Somewhere across the street the man with the violin continued his fiddling.
"Does that keep up all day?"
"Almost! It is amusing to hear Griff swearing athim. The humorous part of it is that he plays but one tune, 'Yankee Doodle.'"
"Can't ye steal it some night?" asked Jim, "an' bust it over 's head."
"I don't care," laughed Stephen, "he doesn't bother me."
The door opened and shut. Sergeant Griffin entered, saluted Stephen and took the hands of the visitors.
"Well, what do you think of the boy?"
"I alwa's said he wuz a good boy."
"The fun hasn't begun yet," announced the Sergeant. "I have just learned that the City Council has met, and is about to issue formal charges against General Arnold."
Stephen whistled.
"They are glad of this opportunity," he announced quietly.
"Reed never took kindly to him, not from the first day," declared Mr. Allison.
"Well, if Reed gits after 'm he'll make the fur fly. He's a bad man when he gits goin'."
"Did you say they had met?" Stephen inquired.
"I understand they have. The affair of last night is being talked of freely on the street. And they are talking about you, most of all, and wonder if you had been sent by Washington to uncover this. One thing is certain: Arnold is in disgrace and the sooner he gets out of here the better it will be for him."
"The General likes 'im and p'rhaps 'll give 'im a transf'r."
"By the way!" interrupted Mr. Allison. "My girl wants to see you."
"See me?" Stephen quickly repeated, pointing to himself.
"She told me on leaving to tell you."
"Very well. Is it urgent?"
"No. I guess not. She didn't say it as if it were."
"Tell her for me, I shall go as soon as I can."
"What's th' next thin' t' do?" asked Jim.
"Matters will take care of themselves for awhile," Stephen replied. "Anderson, I suppose, has left town together with Clifton and the others. If the City Council has met to publish charges against Arnold, there is nothing to do but await the result of these. The people, I presume, are of one mind now and if they are not they will soon be converted once the news of last night's affair has reached their ears."
"Are you going to remain here?" asked Mr. Allison.
"I am going to take some breakfast, first; then I shall busy myself with a report. I may be busy for several days away from the city. In the meantime I would advise that the whole affair be aired as much as possible. There is nothing like supplying the public mind with food. Meet me, Jim, at the Coffee House; or are you coming with me?"
"Guess I'll go. This man wants t' eat."
The City Council did meet, as rumor announced to Sergeant Griffin, and immediately published charges against David Franks, the father of the aide-de-camp of the Military Governor, charging him with being in correspondence with his brother in London, who was holding the office of Commissary for Britishprisoners. He was ordered to be placed under immediate arrest. At the same time formal charges, partly of a military nature, partly of a civil, were preferred against the Military Governor. Copies of indictment were laid before Congress and before the Governors of the states, who were asked to communicate them to their respective legislatures.
The press became wildly excited. Great headlines announced the startling news to the amazement of the country. For, it must be remembered, Philadelphia was the center of government and colonial life, and the eyes of the infant nation were turned continually in its direction. General Arnold's name soon became a subject for conversation on every side.
None took the news more to heart than the General himself, as he sat in his great drawing-room with a copy of the evening news sheet before him. Being of an imaginative, impulsive nature it was natural for him to worry, but tonight there was the added feature of the revelation of his guilt. Reed had pursued him relentlessly, and the public announcement of his participation in the attempted formation of this detestable regiment only furnished the President of the Council with the opening he had so long desired. He re-read the charges preferred against him, his name across the front in big bold type. In substance they were as follows:
First: That the Military Governor had issued a pass for a vessel employed by the enemy, to come into port without the knowledge of the State authorities or of the Commander-in-chief.
Second: That upon taking possession of the city he had closed the shops and stores, preventing the public from purchasing, while at the same time, "as wasbelieved," he had made considerable purchases for his own benefit.
Third: That he imposed menial offices upon the militia when called into service.
Fourth: That in a dispute over the capture of a prize brought in by a state privateer he had purchased the suit at a low and inadequate price.
Fifth: That he had devoted the wagons of the state to transporting the private property of Tories.
Sixth: That, contrary to law, he had given a pass to an unworthy person to go within the enemy's lines.
Seventh: That the Council had been met with a disrespectful refusal when they asked him to explain the subject-matter of the Fifth charge.
Eighth: That the patriotic authorities, both civil and military, were treated coldly and neglectfully, in a manner entirely different from his line of conduct towards the adherents of the king.
A further account of the Council meeting was then given wherein it was stated that a motion had been made to suspend General Arnold from all command during the time the inquiry was being made into these accusations, but it had been voted down. Congress was asked, the story went on, to decide on the value of these charges and to refer them to the proper tribunal, the necessary amount of evidence being promised at the proper time.
"The fools!" he muttered. "They think that these can hold water."
He continued to read, and holding the paper at a distance from him, gazed at it.
"What a shame! Every paper in the country will have this story before the week is out. I'm disgraced."
He fell back in his chair with his head propped upby his elbow. In his other hand, thrown across the arm of the chair, was held the paper. His brows were contracted, his eyes closed, his face flushed in indication of the tumult that surged within him. His mind was engaged in a long process of thought which began with his memories of his early campaigns and traced themselves down to the events of the present moment. There was no decision, no constancy of resolution, no determination; just worry, and apprehension, and solicitude, and the loud, rapid beatings of his temple against his hand.
"Suspend me! I'll forestall them, damn 'em. I'll resign first."
He wondered where Anderson had gone or what fortune he had met with. The morning brought the first report of the disruption of the meeting and of the unknown person who had single-handed accomplished it. There must be a traitor somewhere, for no one save Anderson and himself had been initiated into the secret. Margaret knew, of course, but she could be trusted. Perhaps after all the man had escaped that night. Perhaps it was this very person who had created the furore at the meeting. Who was he? How did he get in? Why were proper steps not taken to safeguard the room against all possibilities of this nature? Bah! Anderson had bungled the thing from the start. He was a boy sent on a man's errand.
The regiment was defunct. To speculate further on that subject would be futile. It never had existed, as far as he could see, except on paper, and there it remained, a mere potentiality. The single-handed disruption of it proved how utterly deprived it was of cohesion and organization. That one man, alone andin disguise, could have acquainted himself thoroughly with the whole proceeding, could have found his way with no attempt at interference into the meeting place, and with a few well-chosen words could have moved an entire audience to espouse the very contrary of their original purpose, indicated the stability and the temper of the assembly. To coerce men is a useless endeavor. Even the Almighty finds it well not to interfere with man's power of choice. They might be led or enticed or cajoled; but to force them, or intimidate them, or overwhelm them, is an idle and unavailing adventure.
Anderson had failed miserably and his conspiracy had perished with him. Not a prominent Catholic had been reached in the first place; not a member of the poorest class would now leave the city. The affair with its awful disclosures only added strength to their position, for whatever aspersions might have been cast upon their loyalty in the event of the successful deportation of the company, were now turned like a boomerang against the very ones who had engineered the scheme. The community would respect the Catholics more for the future. They were to profit by his undoing. They would be valued for the test that their patriotism had stood.
There was another consideration, however, which wore a graver complexion and tormented him beyond endurance. This was the solicitude for his own safety. The people had hated him for years and had proceeded to invent stories about him which might justify its anger. It had been a satisfaction for him to reflect that, for the most part, these stories had not been the causes, but rather the effects of public indignation. But what answer could he make now, what apology could he offer for this late transaction, this conspiracy atonce so evident and palpable? As far as the question of his guilt was concerned there would be little conjecture about that. Ten or twenty accounts of the venture, inconsistent with one another and with themselves, would be circulated simultaneously. Of that he had no doubt. People would neither know nor care about the evidence. It was enough that he had been implicated.
He would ask for a court-martial. That, of course. Through no other tribunal could a just and a satisfactory decision be reached, and it was paramount that another verdict besides that pronounced by public opinion be obtained. Unquestionably, he would be acquitted. His past service, his influence, his character would prove themselves determining factors during his trial. Fully one-half of the charges were ridiculous and would be thrown out of court as incontestable, and of the remainder only one would find him technically culpable. Still it were better for a court to decide upon these matters, and to that end he decided to request a general court-martial.
"You have removed your uniform?" Peggy asked in surprise as she beheld him entering the doorway of the drawing-room.
"Yes," was the solemn reply. "I am no longer a confederate of France."
He limped slowly across the room, leaning on his cane. He had laid aside his buff and blue uniform, with the epaulets and sword knots, and was clad in a suit of silken black. His hose and shoes were of the same color, against which his blouse, cuffs and periwig were emphasized, a pale white.
"But you are still a Major-General," she corrected.
"I was; but am no longer. I have resigned."
She started at the announcement. Obviously she had not anticipated this move.
"You have resigned? When?"
"I wrote the letter a short time ago. I precluded their designs."
He sat in his great chair, and, reaching for his stool, placed his foot upon it.
"But ... I ... I don't understand."
"I do perfectly. I shall be tried by court-martial, of course; they have moved already to suspend me pending the course of my trial. I want to anticipate any such possibility, that is all."
"But you will be reinstated?"
"I don't know,—nor care," he added.
"And what about us, our home, our life here," she asked with a marked concern.
"Oh! That will go on. This is your house, remember, if it comes to the worst; you are mistress here. This is your home."
"If it comes to the worst? To what?"
"Well, if I should be found guilty ... and ... sentenced."
"I should not stay here a minute," she cried, stamping her foot. "Not one minute after the trial! In this town? With that element? Not for an hour!"
"Well!" he exclaimed, making a gesture with both hands, together with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
"Where is Anderson?" she asked quickly.
"In New York, I presume, ere this. I have not seen him."
"Fled?"
"The only proper thing. It's a great wonder to methat he escaped at all. I should have expected him torn to pieces by that mob."
"A bungled piece of business. I imagined that he was assured of success. A sorry spectacle to allow them to slip from his grasp so easily."
"Margaret, you do not understand a mob. They are as fickle as a weather-cock. The least attraction sways them."
"Who did it? Have you yet learned?"
"No. A bedraggled loafer, gifted with more talk than occupation. He was acquainted with the whole scheme from beginning to end, and worked upon their feelings with evidences of treason. The sudden mention of my name in connection with the plot threw cold water on the whole business. They were on their feet in an instant."
"You are quite popular," was the taunt.
"Evidently. The pass inspired them. It would defeat any purpose, and Anderson must have sensed it and taken his hurried departure. No one has since heard or seen aught of him."
"He was a fool to drag you into this, and you were as great a fool to allow it."
"Margaret, don't chide me in that manner. I did what I thought best. But I'm through now with these cursed Catholics and with France."
"You are a free man now," she murmured.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that this court-martial relieves you of any further obligation to the colonies," was the answer.
"But I may still be Second in command."
She paused to regard him. Did he continue to cherish ambitions of this nature; or was he attempting to jest with her?
"You seem to forget Gates and the Congress," she said with manifest derision.
"No. In spite of them."
She lost all patience.
"Listen! Don't flatter yourself any longer. Your cause is hopeless, as hopeless as the cause for which the stupid colonists are contending. You are now free to put an end to this strife. Go over to the enemy and persuade Washington and the leaders of the revolt to discuss terms."
"Impossible!"
"What is impossible? Simply announce your defection; accept the terms of His Majesty's government; and invite Adams, Franklin, Jefferson, Hamilton and Washington to meet you. There is the assurance of all save complete independence."
"I shall wait."
"For what? The court-martial will be against you from the start. Mark my words. You will be found guilty, if not actually, at least technically. They are determined upon revenge and they are going to have it. You saw the paper?"
"I did."
"You read the list of charges?"
He did not answer. He had sunk into his chair and his hands were clasped before him. He was engaged in a detailed series of thought.
"How many of them were artificial? Except for the first, that about the pass, none are worth the reading, and the first never can be proved. They have no evidence apart from the fanatical ravings of a drunken Catholic. But wait! You shall be adjudged guilty in the end. See if I am not correct."
"I have the right to question the composition of the court!"
"What matter! You know the people detest you. They have hated you from the moment you set foot in this city. Every issue of the paper found some new grievance against you. And when you married me the bomb was exploded. You yourself know that it was the mere fact of your participation in this scheme that quelled it. They loathe you, I tell you. They hate you."
Silence reigned in the room as she finished. His eyes were closed and he gave every appearance of having fallen into a deep sleep. His mind was keenly alert, however, and digested every word she uttered. At length he arose from his composure and limped to the window at the further end of the room.
"I shall ask for a new command," he said quietly, "and we shall be removed for all time from this accursed place. I shall do service again."
"Better to await developments. Attend to your trial first. Plan for the future later."
"I shall obey the wishes of the people."
"The people! A motley collection of fools! They have eyes and ears but no more. They know everything and can do nothing."
"I don't know what to do. I...."
"I told you what to do," she interrupted his thought and finished it for him. "I told you to join Anderson. I told you to go to New York and make overtures to General Clinton. That's what you should do. Seek respect and power and honor for your old age."
"That I shall not do. Washington loves me and my people will not desert me to my enemies. The court-martial is the thing."
"As you say. But remember my prophecy."
He turned and again sought his chair. She arose to assist him into it.
"I wonder who that fellow could be! He knew it all."
"Did you not hear?"
"No. I have seen no one who could report to me. The details were missing."
"Did you ever stop to think of the spy in the garden?"
"I did."
"That was the man, I am sure. You know his body has not been found, and if I am not mistaken, it was present at that meeting hall."
"We shall learn of his identity. We shall learn."
"Too late! Too late!"
He again dozed off while she watched him. For several minutes they sat in this manner until she stole out of the room and left him alone. Soon he was wrapped in the arms of a gentle slumber. Some time later she aroused him.
A fortnight later there came to the Allison home a messenger from Stephen in the person of Sergeant Griffin. He appeared at the doorway just as the shroud of eventide was being enfolded about the landscape, changing its hues of green and gray to the more somber ones of blue or purple; just at the time when the indoor view of things is about to be made apparent only by the artificial beams of the tallow and dip.
"Hail!" he said; "I have business with Matthew Allison."
"From Stephen?" Marjorie asked with evident interest.
He shook his head.
"The trial——"
"Oh!" exclaimed Marjorie. Plainly she was relieved at the nature of the message. Then she turned.
"Father!" she called.
"I am coming directly," cried Mr. Allison from the rear.
She had clear forgotten to invite the sergeant into the room, so absorbed was she in the nature of the business at hand. Expectancy breeds cowardice. When great issues are at stake every act wears an awful meaning. For this reason she stood transfixed at the threshold, before this unexpected arrival, whom she associated with the image of Stephen. With thesudden and delightful lessening of her anxiety, however, she bethought herself.
"Won't you come in? It was stupid of me not to have asked you before."
The sergeant acted promptly. Marjorie followed at a little distance, but had no sooner entered the room herself than her father came through the other door.
"What news? Arnold?"
"Found guilty," was the response.
"The court-martial has come to an end?" asked the girl.
"Yes, Miss. And he has been found guilty," he repeated.
"I thought so," muttered Mr. Allison.
They were seated now in the parlor, the two men at opposite ends of the table, the girl at the side of the room.
"They met at Morristown?" asked Mr. Allison.
"Yes. At Norris' Tavern. Major-General Howe was chairman of the court. Only four charges were pressed for trial: the matter of the pass; the affair of the wagons; the shops; and the imposition upon the militia."
"And Arnold?"
"He managed his own trial, and conducted his own cross-examination. He made an imposing spectacle as he limped before the court. The sword knots of Washington were about his waist and he took pains to allude to them several times during the defense. It was astonishing to hear his remarkable flow of language and his display of knowledge of military law. He created a wonderful impression."
"He was found guilty, you say?" interposed Mr. Allison.
"Technically guilty of one charge and imprudent in another," was the deliberate reply.
"And sentenced?"
"To receive a reprimand from the Commander-in-chief."
Mr. Allison assented by a move of his head.
"How did he take it?" he then asked. "I cannot imagine his proud nature to yield readily to rebuke."
The visitor thought for a moment.
"His face was ashen pale; there was a haggard look upon it; the eyes were marked with deep circles and his step faltered as he turned on his heel and, without a word, made his way from the court room."
"Were you present at the trial?" Marjorie inquired.
"Yes, Miss Allison."
"Was Stephen?"
"No." The sergeant answered mildly, smiling as he did so.
Marjorie smiled, too.
"Tell me," Mr. Allison asked. "Was the evidence conclusive?"
"TheIsisoccupied the court to some length. It was contended that General Arnold had issued the pass with evil intent. The affair of the regiment was referred to in connection with this, but no great stress was brought to bear upon it because of the fear of arousing a possible prejudice in the minds of the court. That fact was introduced solely as a motive."
Allison shook his head again.
"It was proved," the sergeant continued, "that theIsiswas a Philadelphia schooner, manned by Philadelphia men, and engaged in the coastwise trade. The pass itself was introduced as an exhibit, to support the contention that the General, while Military Governor,had given military permission for the vessel to leave the harbor of Philadelphia for the port of New York, then in possession of the enemy."
"That was proved?"
"Yes, sir."
"Was the Regiment alluded to?"
"Yes. But at no great length."
"And the pass?"
"It was there. The Regiment was the motive for the pass. The affair of the recruiting was scarcely mentioned."
There was an abrupt silence.
"What was the next charge?" Mr. Allison asked.
"That of the wagons."
"Yes."
"The prosecution made a strong point. Jesse Jordan was introduced. Testimony was given by him to the effect that he himself had drawn back a train of twelve wagons loaded with stores from Egg Harbor."
"Where?"
"Egg Harbor. Where the traffic between the British Army and the Tories of the city was carried on."
"Was this sustained?"
"The General denied most of the accusation, but he was found imprudent in his actions. In regard to the other two charges, that of the shops and that of the militia, absolute acquittal was decided. The verdict was announced the following morning and the sentence was published immediately after adjournment."
"He was sentenced to be reprimanded, you tell me?"
"Yes. By General Washington."
"That will break Arnold's heart. He will never endure it."
"Others were obliged to endure it," sounded a soft voice.
"Yes, I know," replied the father of the girl. "But you do not know General Arnold. Undoubtedly the city has the news."
"Yes," said the sergeant. "I have told several. All know it ere this."
And what subject could possibly afford more of concern or consequence to the city folk than the court-martial of General Arnold! Those of the upper class, because of their intimate association with the man; those of the middle class, interested more or less in the great significance attached to the event itself and the influence it would exert upon the future; those of the lower class because of their supreme contempt for the erstwhile Military Governor and the biased manner of his administration, all, without exception, found themselves manifesting an uncommon interest in the progress and the issue of the trial.
It was commonly known that General Arnold had requested a court-martial; but it was not so commonly understood that the matter of his guilt, especially his collusion with the Catholic Regiment and the matter of its transportation, was so intricate or profound. Stephen's speech at the meeting house had given the public the first inkling of the Governor's complicity in the affair; still this offense had been condoned by the many, as usually happens with the crimes of great men who occupy stations of honor, whose misdemeanors are often enshrouded and borne away into oblivion beneath the veil of expediency and interest of thecommon weal. A court-martial would indeed take place; but its verdict would be one of absolute acquittal.
To hold court at some neutral post was just. No charge of unfairness could then be lodged. Nor could the personnel of the court be regarded as hostile to the accused, for the latter had already raised an objection to its composition which had been sustained and heeded. The charges were dealt with fairly, only four of the eight counts in the original indictment being allowed to come within the jurisdiction of a military tribunal. Even the General was permitted to conduct his own trial and every courtesy and attention was granted him.
Only two charges bore any evidence of guilt. The pass was issued with deliberate intent. That was proved by the testimony of several witnesses as well as by the introduction of the pass itself. Arnold defended himself on the ground that there were no authorities in the city of New York to be offended by the entrance of the vessel, and also the fact that since the Commander-in-chief had lodged no complaint over the alleged offense to his dignity, it was logical to infer that His Excellency took no offense at the order. In regard to the charge of misuse of the government wagons, it was revealed that traffic had been carried on between Egg Harbor and the city of Philadelphia, and that full loads had been delivered to several private families of the city. Arnold denied any knowledge of the destination of these wagons, although he was aware that they were being used.
His defense, it was learned, consisted of a long plea, in which he rehearsed in detail the leading events of his life. He was fond of alluding to his past and entertained no diffidence whatsoever in regard to hisown abilities. He hoped thereby to impress the court and to intimidate them.
The charges he denounced as false, malicious, and scandalous, inspired solely by motives of animosity and revenge. He was not accustomed to carry on a warfare with women, he told the court, nor did he ever bask in the sunshine of any one's favor. Honorable acquittal of all the charges brought against him was pleasantly expected by him and he looked forward to the day when he might share again with his fellow-soldiers the glory and the dangers of the war.
But he was not acquitted, and the verdict of the court came no less as a surprise to the people of the city and of the nation than to the General himself. The following morning they met to pronounce the verdict and they found that on the first charge Major General Arnold had exceeded his rights in giving permission for a vessel to leave port without the knowledge of the City Authorities or of the Commander-in-chief; and as such he was found to have violated technically Article Five, Section Eighteen of the American Articles of War. The second and third charges were dismissed, but he was found to have been imprudent in his temporary use of the wagons. Because of his guilt on these two counts he was sentenced to receive a reprimand from His Excellency, the Commander-in-chief.
He left the court room without a word.
"It is precisely what I fear most," Mr. Allison said. "If he curried less the favor of the public, little or naught would come of it, and the reprimand would end the case. But you know Arnold is a conceited man;one who carries his head high. Better to deprive him of life itself than to apply vinegar and gall to his parched lips."
"His return will be hard," Sergeant Griffin observed. He, too, knew the character of the man.
"I doubt if he will return. He has resigned, you know, and may dislike the sight of the city which witnessed his misfortune. Still this is his home and a man's heart is in his home regardless of its environment."
"Do not forget Peggy," Marjorie reminded them. "I know she will never consent to live in the city. I know it. Dear me! The shame of it all would confuse her."
"She might become accustomed to it," replied her father. "All school themselves to the mutations of life."
"Not Peggy. I know her. She will not forgive. Why, I recall quite vividly the violence of her temper and the terror of her wrath. Her own aunt, with whom she was staying for a brief space, took occasion to reprove her for a slight indiscretion. Peggy resented the correction fiercely, and leaving the house at once vowed she never would set foot into it again. That was seven years ago. She has, to my knowledge, never violated that pledge."
Her father shook his head.
"I see it all quite clearly," continued Marjorie. "The General will resent the wrong; Peggy will nurture a fierce indignation. Whatever thoughts of revenge will come to his mind she will ably promote. Have a care to her; her wrath will know no mitigation."
"He never expected the verdict," the sergeant remarked.
"How did he appear?" asked Mr. Allison.
"Splendid. As he entered the court he laughed and jested with several officers with all the self-possession of one of the eye-witnesses. Flashes of the old-time energy and courage were manifest at intervals. There was jubilation displayed on his every feature."
"He was jocose, you say?"
"Extremely so."
"Was this before the trial?"
"Yes. As he entered the Tavern."
"Was Peggy with him?"
"No, indeed. It was not permissible for her to enter. She awaited him outside."
"And yet he maintained his composure throughout."
"He seemed to take delight in relating the resolutions of Congress, its thanks, its gifts, for the many campaigns and the brilliant services rendered his country. His promotions, his horse, his sword, his epaulets and sword-knots, all were recounted and recited enthusiastically."
Mr. Allison looked at Marjorie and smiled.
"Only once did he lose his self-possession. Near the end of his plea he forgot himself and called his accusers a lot of 'women.' This produced a smile throughout the court room; then he regained his composure."
He paused.
"That was all?" asked Mr. Allison.
"I think so. The court adjourned for the day. On the following morning the verdict was announced. I came here direct."
When he had finished he sat quite still. It wasapproaching a late hour and he saw that he had overstayed his leave. Still the gravity of the occasion required it.
It was these thoughts regarding the future, far more than any great poignancy of grief respecting General Arnold and his present misfortune, that affected this small group. It seemed to them that the events which had of late happened were not without grave and serious consequence. General Arnold was a man of prominence and renown. To lead such a figure to the bar of justice and to examine and determine there in a definite manner his guilt before the whole world was a solemn piece of business. It meant that the new republic was fearless in its denunciation of wrong; that it was intent upon the exercise of those precepts of justice and equity which were written into the bill of rights, the violation of which by a foreign power had constituted originally a set of true grievances; and that it was actuated by a solemn resolution never to permit within its own borders the commission of any of those wrongs which it had staked its life and consecrated its purpose as a nation to destroy. General Arnold was a big man, generous in service to his country, honored as one of its foremost sons, but he was no bigger than the institution he was helping to rear. The chastisement inflicted upon him was a reflection upon the state; but it also was a medication for its own internal disorders.
The fact that the ruling powers of the city were bitterly opposed to the Military Governor was not wholly indicative of the pulse of the people. General Arnold was ever regarded with the highest esteem by the members of the army. A successful leader, a brave soldier, a genial comrade, he was easily the mostbeloved general after General Washington. With the citizen body of Philadelphia he was on fairly good terms,—popular during the early days of his administration, although somewhat offensive of late because of his indiscretion and impetuosity. Still he was not without his following, and whereas he had made himself odious to a great number of people by his manner of life and of command, there were a greater number of people who were ready to condone his faults out of regard for his brilliant services in the past.
His enemies gloated over his misfortune. Everybody believed that, and it was commonly understood that General Arnold believed it, too. But would he overcome his enemies by retrieving the past and put to shame their vulgar enthusiasm by rising to heights of newer and greater glory? Or would he yield to the more natural propensities of retaliation or despair? A man is no greater than the least of his virtues; but he who has acquired self-control has founded a virtuous inheritance.
With thoughts of this nature were the trio occupied. For several minutes no one spoke. Mr. Allison leaned against the table, his right arm extended along its side, playing with a bodkin that lay within reach; the sergeant sat in silence, watching the face of his entertainer; while Marjorie lolled in her great chair, her eyes downcast, heavy, like two great weights. At length Sergeant Griffin made as if to go. Marjorie arose at once to bid him adieu.
"You said you came direct?" she reminded him.
"Yes, Miss Allison."
"You saw——" she hesitated, but quickly added, "Captain Meagher?"
She would have said "Stephen" but bethought herself.
"No, Miss. Not since the trial."
"He was not present?"
"No. He is with His Excellency. Several days ago I saw him and he bade me come here with the report of the finding."
"That was all?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Thank you. We can never repay your kindness."
"Its performance was my greatest delight."
"Thank you. Good night!"
She withdrew into the hall.