Shown by the orderly to the room where Cornwallis was, he found with him his colonel and a man in the uniform of a naval officer.

“Ah, here he is,” said the British general.  “Major Hennion, the three ships which have taken station at the mouth of the river pay no heed to the ’Charon’s ’signals, nor are theirs to be read by our book, so ’t is feared that they are French ships.  As ’t is impossible to believe they would thus boldly venture into the bay if alone, we wish to know if there are others below.  Furnish Lieutenant Foley with a mount, and, with an escort of a troop, guide him over the road you came to-day to some spot where a view of the roadstead at Old Point Comfort is to be commanded.”  Speaking to the naval officer, he enjoined, “You will carefully observe any shipping there may be, sir, and of what force, and report to me with the least possible delay.”

It was a little after ten o’clock on the following day when a troop of hot and weary-looking horses and men clattered along the main street of the town and drew up in front of headquarters.  Throwing himself from the saddle, Major Hennion hurried into the house.  The moment he was in the presence of Cornwallis, he said:  “’T is as you surmised, general.  Between thirty and forty sail stretch from Lynnhaven Bay to the mouth of the James, and though ’t was difficult to exactly estimate their force, they are mostly men of war, and some even three-deckers.”

“Beyond question ’t is the French West India fleet,” burst from Cornwallis.  For a moment he was silent, then sternly demanded, “Where is Lieutenant Foley?”

“The gentlemen of the navy, sir, are more used to oak than to leather, and we set him such a pace that twelve miles back he could no longer sit his saddle, and we left him leading his horse, thinking this information could not be brought you too soon.”

“It but proves the old saying that ‘Ill news has wings,’” replied the earl, steadily, as he walked to the window and looked out into the garden.  Here he stood silently for so long that finally Hennion spoke.

“I beg your pardon, general,” he said, “but am I dismissed?”

All the reply Cornwallis made him was to ask, “When you first came amongst us, major, you spoke with the barbaric provincialism and nasal twang of your countrymen, but in your years with us you have lost them.  Could you upon occasion resume both?”

“Indeed, my Lord,” replied the officer, smiling, “’t is even yet a constant struggle to keep from it.”

“The word you bring must be got to Clinton without question of fail and with the least possible delay.  Are you willing to volunteer for a service of very great risk?”

“Does your Lordship for a moment question it?”

“Not I. To-night we will try to steal a small sloop out of the river with a despatch for Clinton; but we must not place our whole dependence on this means, and a second must be sent him overland.  Get you a meal, sir, and a fresh horse, and from some civilian or negro procure such clothes as are fitting for a travelling peddler.  I will order you a pack and a stock of such things as are appropriate from the public stores, and you shall at once be rowed across the river and must make your way as best you can northward to New York.  Dost understand?”