The next day was the beginning of that period that led rapidly to the end. A few days later and all was over; there was no Red Band left to threaten New York, and I—I had suffered untold remorse for my cunning and deceit.

Meantime the uncertain breath of rumor that I had heard upon the Slip had grown into a gale of certainty. People stopped at corners in a frightened sort of way to discuss the former invasions of the French. The Coffee-House was full to overflowing, and the conversation always turned upon the last invasion of the County Frontenac, or upon our long immunity from northward danger. But at last, we all thought, peace was at an end. Certainty of the coming of danger was quickly followed by fear of what would follow in case of a descent from the Canadian frontier. It was a long way to Albany, to be sure, but the fort at Albany was weak. If that were once taken the enemy would have a free path to our very doors.

So the people fell to work in haste to repair the wall which toppled across the island in a miserable state of repair. The trench on the inside was cleaned out and deepened. New palisades were put in to replace some of the old ones that had 292rotted through and were ready to fall from their own weight. The gates were hung anew and a guard stationed at them. Sunrise and sunset saw them securely locked. While the gates were locked no one was allowed to leave the city without a pass signed by the governor and stamped with the great seal of the province.

Often by day you would see great swarms of people clustered about upon the ledge of rocks west of the city just at the foot of the stockade, with their eyes turned up river, as if they expected to see a French flotilla appear in sight at any moment. The little wicket gate through which I had fled with the suspicious sailors the night before Van Volkenberg’s disgrace was now seldom closed in the daytime. Through it staggered a stream of fearful people, ever on the lookout for the invader.

The excitement was no less on the island north of the city wall. All the little hamlets between New York and Harlem were making preparations for defense, drilling and mustering men into companies to meet the stranger. Every afternoon and evening the Red Band assembled on the terrace to practice the use of arms, marching and countermarching, and all things needful for the little army of the patroon. They moved like clockwork. There were no soldiers like them in the whole province; even the governor’s guard was not so well trained by half. Still there was no visible sign of danger. A post came in from Albany and reported that all 293was peaceful in the neighborhood of Fort Orange.

This ferment had grown to a head while our attention at the manor-house was attracted to other things. It was on the night after the death of Meg—or, was it the next night? I forget, but it makes no difference—that I sat in my room reading the little Bible that I had carried ever since the old days in France. Suddenly I was startled by a sharp scraping sound apparently in my own room. I listened a moment attentively and placed the sound low down near the door. There was a pause; then, after a moment’s silence, the scraping began again.

“Begone,” I cried, with a loud stamp of my foot, supposing, of course, that rats were gnawing in the wainscot.

At the sound of my voice there was a rustle like skirts in the hall, and then I was sure I heard light footsteps running away from my door. I rose quickly and opened it. All was dark in the hall, and there was no sign of any visitor. I sat down again, wondering who it was and whether the visitor would return. Perhaps ten minutes passed, during which I heard nothing, though I listened with both my ears. Then of a sudden, without any foresounds, the scratching began again. I rose very quietly with my candle in my hand, and tip-toed across the room. I took care to make no noise this time, for I wanted to surprise my visitor, and find out who she was. I turned the knob softly without letting the door give an inch, paused a moment to 294get my weight right, and then flung the door wide open with my candle held high above my head.

There stood Annetje Dorn, with her fingers to her lips for silence.

“Follow me,” she whispered. “But don’t make the least noise.”

She led me a long way till we came out after many wanderings upon a little balcony on the outside of the house under the eaves. In the shadow before us I could just make out the vague form of a man who was awaiting us.

“It is Pierre,” she whispered; and the next moment we were talking in guarded whispers. She had smuggled him into the house and up here so that he could deliver his message to me without danger of being overheard by stray persons about the house. But after all, his message to me was small enough, if it was worth being called a message at all. But I learned something of importance from him, for all that.

“Lady Marmaduke is getting so anxious that she would have it that I come and speak with you, danger or no danger,” said Pierre. “Have you any word to send her?”

I told him briefly that nothing of importance had happened. Then I asked him what news he could give me from the city. Matters were in a much worse state there than I had thought.

“The citizens,” said Pierre, “are like chicks without their mother.”

295“They’d duck you if they heard that,” put in Annetje, who always enjoyed a fling at Pierre for his former escapade. “It is just the thing for people who talk too much. Now there was Long Mary once—”

“Never mind Long Mary or you’ll get ducked yourself. Monsieur Le Bourse, they are just as I said, like chicks without their mother. They run here and there and everywhere, chirping for the governor to do something. There is nothing he can do unless he loads up the guns on the Battery and shoots them at the bay. I wish he would. It would make safer ducking, which I should like in case Annetje—”

Her hand smothered the rest of this, whatever it was.

“If I were the governor,” broke in Annetje, trying to keep her muzzling hand over her sweetheart’s mouth. “I should do something. I am sure I don’t know what there is to be done. But look how the patroon always does something right away. He always knows that something is to be done and just what it is. He never waits a minute. The governor always puts things off.”

“So, ho,” retorted Pierre, getting free at last. “What do you know about it? Have you ever heard the saying: Gray heads on green shoulders?”

“Ay, ay, and green heads on gray shoulders.”

“Bah, I am only a year older than you. But gray 296heads can hide their green shoulders by holding their tongues.”

“Try it then and see. Now, Monsieur St. Vincent, if you please, what is there to be done? Pierre told me before I fetched you up that if something were not done before to-morrow three companies of the guard would be sent up the river to protect Fort Orange.”

“That’s what Lady Marmaduke is afraid of,” broke in Pierre. “With only one company left in the fort and the Red Band gathering—that looks like trouble. There are seven of the patroon’s ships in the harbor at this blessed moment, and that is more than there has been at any one time these ten years past. Some of them have been here a month. Why does he not fill \'em up and let \'em go their way a-trading?”

I had already noticed that more and more men came to the drill as each day went by, but, before this, I had not known the cause. However, I had no intelligence to send on that score; Pierre seemed to know more about it than I did, and so he went back to the city with nothing of account to relate to his mistress for all the danger of his errand.

Since the day on which the patroon had been dismissed in disgrace from the privy-council he had not visited the city in state; not since that first day when Pierre and I had wandered out north of the city by the Collect, where he told me of my sister’s 297fate. On our return that day, we had nearly reached the Kissing Bridge when the trampling of horses sent us to the bushes for concealment. I remember to this hour how the patroon looked as he rode by with Louis by his side and the Red Band two and two at his heels. They made a brave sight, but since his disgrace, the patroon had not ridden in that way. When his affairs called him to town he went alone or with only Louis or me to accompany him.

But to-day, he resolved to ride in state. An early summons came to wait upon the master. By ten o’clock a splendid retinue was ready to set out for New York. Van Volkenberg was at the head with Louis upon one side and me upon the other. Behind us, in rows of four, came one hundred and fifty chosen men in the full livery of the Red Band. They wore cloth of a dark olive green, and on the left arm the band of brilliant red, which was their distinctive badge of service. The English flag and the patroon’s banner flapped merrily as we galloped over the half-frozen ground. This was the very road over which I had followed Louis to the printing shop of Bradford. I compared that night to this day and wondered what was the meaning of all this display of force. Could it be that the wheel ha............