“But, my Lord—­the risk!” cut in the commissary-general.

“There need be none.  An hour after he sets out we shall send a mounted detail after him with an Indian tracker to nose out his trail.  The lieutenant in command will carry duplicate despatches.  At the worst, Ireton will guide these followers to Ferguson’s rendezvous; and, so far as we know, he is the only man who knows exactly where to find the major.”

I had heard enough.  Under cover of the chorus of bravos raised by Lord Cornwallis’s explication of his plot within a plot, I lifted the trap-door and made my exit as noiselessly as I had come.

Guessing that no time would be lost in putting the plan into action, I made haste to be found inquiring hither and yon for the commander-in-chief when my Lord and his suite came down the outer stair; and when we were met I was quickly told of my assignment to courier duty.

“Make your preparations to take the road within the hour, and report to me at Friend Stair’s,” said my Lord, most affably.  “We shall put your new-found loyalty to the test, Captain Ireton, by entrusting you with a most important mission.  Go with the commissary-general and he will find you your mount and equipment.”

Thus dismissed, I went with Stedman, and was accorded a more gentlemanly welcome than my overhearings had given me leave to expect.

On the way to the horse paddock the commissary-general told me of his plan to write a history of the campaign; a bit of confidence which set me laughing inwardly and wondering if he would put one John Ireton, sometime of the Scots Blues, and late captain in her Apostolic Majesty’s Hussars, between the covers of his book.  ’Tis small wonder that he did not.  I have since had the pleasure of reading his history of the great war, and I find it curiously lacking in those incidents which did not redound to the honor and glory of the king’s cause and army in the field.

Not to digress, however, my makeshift mount was soon exchanged for a better; I was allowed to draw what I would of accoutrements and provender from the king’s stores; and so, to cut it short, I was presently at the door of my Lord’s headquarters fully equipped and ready for the road.

I did hope in those last few moments that I might have a chance to exchange a word with my dear lady; might ask her forgiveness, or, failing so much grace of her, might at least have another sight of her sweet face.

But even this poor boon was denied me.  I was scarce out of the saddle when an aide came to conduct me to the general, and I saw no one in the house save my Lord himself.

As you would guess, my instructions conformed exactly to the plan outlined by Lord Cornwallis in the council.  I was entrusted with a sealed packet for delivery to Major Ferguson, and, for safety’s sake, as my Lord explained, I was given the meat of the message to deliver verbally should the need arise.  Ferguson was to be ordered to come in instantly by forced marches, if necessary, and he was on no account to risk a battle with the over-mountain men.