“Ah, pray, Sir Frederick,” begged Janice, “do not add to my pain and difficulty.  What you wish—­”

“I crave a pardon for my words.  ’T was a moment’s selfish forgetfulness of you and of my own position, that shall not occur again.”  Mobray stooped and kissed a loose end of the handkerchief the girl held, and hurried from the room.

As he was catching up his cloak and sabre in the hallway, the door of the office opened.  “Come in here a moment, Sir Frederick,” requested the commissary.

“I have done as I promised, and that is all I can do at the moment,” almost sobbed the young fellow.  “Nor will I dine here Wednesday, though you do your worst.”

“Tush!  Do as ye please as to that, but come in here now, for I have a thing to say that concerns Miss Meredith’s happiness.”

“And what is that?” demanded the baronet, as he entered.

“I see by the G. O. that ye are named one of the commissioners to arrange a cartel of exchange with the rebels at Germantown to-day.”

“Would to God it were to arrange a battle in which I might fall!”

“’T is likely lists of prisoners will be shown, and should ye chance to see the name of Leftenant Hennion on any of those handed in by the rebels I recommend that ye do not advertise the fact when ye return to Philadelphia.”

“But the fellow’s dead.”

“Ye have been long enough in the service to know that some die whose names never get on any return, and so some are reported dead who decline to be buried.  Let us not beat about the bush as to what I mean.  We are each doing our best to obtain possession of this lovely creature, but the father holds to his promise to the long-legged noodle, and, if he is alive, our suits are hopeless.  So let them continue to suppose him—­”

“Mine is so already,” groaned Mobray.  “But if ’t were not, I would not filch a woman’s love by means of a deceit.  Nor—­”

“Fudge!  Hear me through.  The girl has always hated the match, which was one of her old fool of a father’s conceiving, and will thank any one who saves her from the fellow.  Let her say nay to us both, and it please her, but don’t force her to a marriage of compulsion by needless blabbing.”

“I will hold my peace, if that seems best for Miss Meredith; not otherwise, my Lord,” answered Mobray, flinging from the room.

The baronet mounted his horse, and, stabbing his spurs into him, galloped madly down Market Street, and then up Second Street to where it forked into two country roads.  Here the lines of British fortifications intersected it, and a picket of cavalry forced the rider to draw rein and show his pass.  This done, he rode on, though at a more easy pace, and an hour later entered the village of Germantown.  In front of the Roebuck Inn a guidon, from which depended a white flag, had been thrust into the ground, and grouped about the door of the tavern was a small party of Continental light horse.  Trotting up to them, Mobray dismounted, and, after an inquiry and a request to one of them to take his horse, he entered the public room.  To its one occupant, who was seated before the fire, he said:  “The dragoons outside told me the reb—­the Continental commissioners were here.  Canst tell me where they are to be found, fellow?”