eyes, he thought longingly of his little
farm up in the hills where his placid wife and two stout daughters
lived as peacefully as though the colonists had never rebelled against
the mother country and hardly knew that the British held New York.
"Too stupid to answer," muttered the old man, swinging his heavy keys,
as he passed down the prison corridor. "But I am wise enough to hold
my tongue when it profits me nothing to endanger the necks of better
men than Sir Henry Clinton. Let him use his own eyes, if he will; mine
will be shut when good Mr. Salomon chooses to walk abroad," and he
chuckled softly as he passed down the dark, damp corridors.

Sir Henry's teeth clicked angrily as the door closed behind the
jailor. "Well?" he demanded of the Hessian Commander. "Well, since
this man seems to bear out the reputation for honesty you gave him, it
seems that we are on the wrong trail. Yet I mistrust this Haym
Salomon, though our friendly jailor declares that he knows naught
against him. It might be well to keep a stricter watch on this Jew
broker in the future."

General Heister nodded emphatically. He was far too good a diplomat to
quarrel with Sir Henry or to waste breath defending a man whom the
Englishman mistrusted. "I only know that he is a man of rare parts,"
he said, "a man who has traveled much before coming to America and has
become versed in many tongues. That is why, when I found him among
the captured Americans two years ago, I deemed it better to use him
and his talents rather than confine him with the others to rot and die
of the prison fevers. So I have allowed him greater freedom than the
other prisoners and found a place for him in the commissariat
department where his knowledge of tongues and his Hebrew shrewdness
have proved of great value to me."

Sir Henry gave a short laugh. "That Hebrew shrewdness of your learned
friend may have proved of equal value to several of the French and
American lads who have lately escaped from our prison. No, do not
remove him--just yet. Give the rogue a long enough rope and he may
find it dangling around his own neck on the scaffold out yonder." He
turned to the sheaf of papers before him, pushing back his fine lace
ruffles. "Enough of Haym Salomon. He will be my care hereafter. Now go
over these lists with me, Heister," and he began to turn the closely
written sheets with his long, nervous fingers.

At that moment Jonas, the jailor, was talking in low, excited tones