“Ask my mistress,” gasped Caesar, almost convinced that his last hour had come, but still having firm faith in Mrs. Seymour.  “Dun you know how to speak to a lady?”

“I have safe-conduct from General Washington to enter New York,” said Mrs. Seymour calmly, extending her hand with the precious paper toward the first speaker.  The man took it, and gazed stupidly at it.  Evidently being German, he could not read it; but having turned it upside down and gazed at it for some seconds, he gave a drunken leer as he peered inside the coach.

“What you got in your hamper? blenty cognac, eh?  Give us a pottle; that’s better than mugs of ale, eh, poys?” and he laughed uproariously.

“I shall give you nothing,” said Mrs. Seymour firmly; “if you cannot read my safe-conduct yourself, is there not one of your men who can?”

The Hessian was about to make angry reply, when a young fellow, evidently an Englishman, shoved his way through the men to the coach door.

“Stop that, Joris,” he said, prodding the corporal with his elbow; “give me the paper; I can read it.”  But Joris, who evidently had reached the stage of ugly intoxication, did not choose to give it up, and stood his ground.

“Ve wants cognac,” he shouted, “an’ you comes out, lady, an’ ve’ll find for ourselves vhat you is,” and seizing Mrs. Seymour by the arm he attempted to drag her from her seat with some violence.

“The pistol, Betty!” cried the plucky little woman as her feet touched the ground; but as Betty, with equally reckless courage, drew their only weapon from its hiding-place, the young Englishman rushed at Joris with an oath, exclaiming,—­

“Look out, you fool—­here comes the officer’s patrol,” and there was a clatter of horses’ feet, a swift rush, and a voice demanding in stern fashion, “Stand back, there!  Whose coach is this?  What do you mean, fellow, by handling a lady in that manner?” and Geoffrey Yorke struck Joris a blow with his sheathed sword which nearly sobered him on the spot.

Back into the corner of the coach sank Betty, and as she pulled her hood still farther over her face, she felt as if every drop of blood she possessed was tingling in her cheeks, as she saw Geoffrey, hat in hand, dismount and read General Washington’s safe-conduct.

“I deeply regret, madam,” he said, with stately courtesy to Mrs. Seymour, “that a corporal’s guard should have caused you such annoyance, and I shall see that the fellow who treated you so roughly be properly punished.  Meantime, if you intend to enter New York you will be obliged to leave your coach a mile farther on, and cross the river on horseback.  King’s Bridge, as you may know, was fired some months ago by the rebels, and the flatboat used for ferrying has been abandoned on account of the ice.  It will afford me pleasure to do what I can for your comfort and that of your companion.  But it is my duty, unfortunately, to make passing search of your coach; will you pardon me if I do so?”