Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 145: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PLAYING THE MAN. The sunlight had now quite departed, and dusk was gathering, but the place was in some was less gruesome, less grim, in its squalor, than it had been before. CHAPTER XVI. MONDAY NIGHT. FRIDAY came, three days after the sit- ting of the court martial, without further incident, beyond the duil routine of: the improvised prison. Late in the morning David heard a coach rumble into the yard, and an hour later the guard opened the door of the cell, and Jessica Winnington and her father came in. David uttered a great cry and clasped the girl in his arms, and she sobbed: con- vulsively with her head on his breast while Nathaniel Winnington choked and strove manfully to find his voice. “Verily, David,” said the old man huskily at last, “‘ we never thought to see our land under such a reign of terror!” David shook his head vaguely, but could not speak. He caressed the soft golden hair of his betrothed and held her close to him. . ‘“‘ Oh, David!” she cried at last. ‘ We must save you, my dear! We shall save you! This—this General Washington, as he calls himself, sent a message to us through the lines, by the gracious cour- tesy of Sir Henry Clinton, and we were pezmitted to come here to plead for you. David! I have been on my knees to the man! I have told him, in this last hour, how noble you are, how brave and hon- orable, yet he knows not, even now, if he may release you. The monster!” ‘““He was kindly and courteous,” ob- served the temperate Mr. Winnington. “Though he condemns me himself,” said David, ‘‘I shall still believe him a gallant gentleman.” “Would you both drive me mad?” wailed Jessica. ‘‘ The man’s not gallant! Ii he were he’d not doubt a lady’s word, and you’d now be in the coach with us, going home again, David.” 487 ‘Poor Adrian!” exclaimed David ab- ruptly. ‘‘ You have heard—” — ‘“ Ah, yes,” she cried, breaking forth in sobs again; “it’s but one wo upon an- other!” “Tt is the way of war,” remarked the old man. “I mourn our poor friend, and I deplore his unfortunate, misguided course.”’ “David, we may remain with you but an hour,” sobbed the girl. ‘“ Will you pass the time in talking of men’s politics? We shall not be permitted to see you again, but to-night we go to Sir William Howe’s headquarters in the city. He shall save you! He shall tell this Gen- eral Washington what it means to— to torture one of the king’s loyal subjects. This is not the Spanish Inquisition!” ‘“My dearest,” exclaimed David, “I beg of you, do not go to Sir William Howe! It seems that he’s not in a po- sition at present to dictate to his enemy, and you'll surely compromise yourselves and our good friends, the Murrays. Think! If it were known that you so much as sheltered a rebel officer, thereby aiding him to escape through the lines, your estates might be confiscated; you might even be thrown into prison. Mr. Winnington, you have too much discre- tion to permit such folly!” “Father will do as I say,” declared Jessica firmly. ‘“ Shall a lady sacrifice her future husband merely to save con- fusion—-to save a paltry house and garden?” | ‘““ Leave it in my hands, my lad,” said Winnington. ‘ Poor Jessica is quite be- side herself—and no wonder! I believe that Mr. Murray will accompany me to call upon Sir William, and we shall speak to him discreetly. We may say that you strolled through the lines in the indul- gence of a whim. Sir William is a genial gentleman, and I’m sure he will make representations to this Mr. Washington, and possibly arrange to exchange you for some rebel prisoner now held within our lines.”’ They talked on until the end of the comicloool C©