urself, Chevalier de St. Luc. I'm grateful to you for
the warning you gave me, and other acts of friendship, but whatever
your mission may have been in New York I'm sure that one of your
errands, perhaps the main one, in Williamsburg, is to gather
information for France, and, sir, I should be little of a patriot did
I not give the alarm, much as it hurts me to do so."

Robert saw very clearly by the moonlight that the blue eyes of St. Luc
were twinkling. His situation might be dangerous, but obviously he
took no alarm from it.

"You'll bear in mind, Mr. Lennox," he said, "that I'm not asking you
to shield me. Consider me a French spy, if you wish--and you'll not be
wholly wrong--and then act as you think becomes a man with a
commission as army scout from Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia."

There was a little touch of irony in his voice. His adventures and
romantic spirit was in the ascendant, and it seemed to Robert that he
was giving him a dare. That he would have endured because of his
admiration for St. Luc, and also because of his gratitude, but the
allusion to his commission from the governor of Virginia recalled him
to his sense of duty.

"I can do nothing else!" he exclaimed. "'Tis a poor return for the
services you have done me, and I tender my apologies for the action
I'm about to take. But guard yourself, St. Luc!"

"And you, Lennox, look well to yourself when Braddock marches! Every
twig and leaf will spout danger!"

His light manner was wholly gone for the moment, and his words were
full of menace. Up the street, a sentinel walked back and forth, and
Robert could hear the faint fall of his feet on the sand.

"Once more I bid you beware, St. Luc!" he exclaimed, and raising his
voice he shouted: "A spy! A spy!"

He heard the sentinel drop the butt of his musket heavily against the
earth, utter an exclamation and then run toward them. His shout had
also been heard at the tavern, and the guests, bareheaded, began to
pour out, and look about confusedly to see whence the alarm had come.

Robert looked at the sentinel who was approaching rapidly, and then he
turned to see what St Luc would do. But the Frenchman was gone. Near
them was a mass of shrubbery and he believed that he had flitted into
it, as silently as the passing of a shadow. But the sentinel had
caught a glimpse of the dusky figure, and he cried:

"Who was he? What is it?"

"A spy!" replied Robert hastily. "A Frenchman whom I have seen in