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He had reached New York some days before, but instead of hurrying on with Champe, he had sent a careless apology to his expectant grandparents while he waited over to look up a missing trunk. "Oh, what difference does a day make?" he had urged in reply to Champe's remonstrances, "and after going all the way to Paris, I can't afford to lose my clothes, you know.
"We are the only men who have horses here, so I am glad you made me bring Prince Rupert, after all. When I ride him into town, everybody turns to look at him, and Batt Horsford, the stableman, says his trot is as clean as a razor. At first I wished I'd brought my hunter instead, they made such a fuss over Champe's, and I tell you he's a regular timber-topper.
They fired on our horsemen, and sent a boat to meet Champe, who was taken in, carried on board, and conveyed to New York, with a letter from the captain of the galley, describing the scene, which he had himself witnessed, of Champe's escape. The horse belonging to Champe, with his equipments, cloak, and sword-scabbard, was recovered by Middleton.
Here, come and pull off my coat, Big Abel, or I'll have to go to bed with my clothes on." Big Abel pulled off the coat and brushed it carefully; then he held out his hand for Champe's. "I hope dis yer coat ain' gwine lose hit's set 'fo' hit gits ter me," he muttered as he hung them up. "Seems like you don' teck no cyar yo' clothes, nohow, Marse Dan.
"You've let Beau get out of sight," he said. "We'd better catch up with him," and he set off at a gallop. Dan, who had ridden on at Champe's first words, did not even turn his head when the three came abreast with him. The moonlight was in his eyes, and the vision of Virginia floated before him at his saddle bow.
But when Champe's high, offensive giggle, topping all the others, insulted his ears, he stopped dead, wheeled, and ran to the porch faster than he had fled from it. White as paper, shaking with inexpressible rage, he caught and kissed the tittering girl, violently, noisily, before them all.
Her eyes would smile, though her lips were as prim as a preacher's. Virginia gave a timid pull at Betty's frock. "Champe's goin' home with us," she said, "his uncle told him to You're goin' home with us, ain't you, Champe?" "I ain't goin' home," responded Betty, jerking from Virginia's grasp. She stood warm yet resolute in the middle of the road, her bonnet swinging in her hands.
Dan aimed a blow at him with a boot that was lying on the rug. "Shut up, won't you," he growled. "Well, Virginia is a beauty," was Champe's amiable response. "Jack Morson swears Aunt Emmeline's picture can't touch her. He's writing to his father now, I don't doubt, to say he can't live without her. Go down, and he'll read you the letter." Dan's face grew black.
"Of course, I'm sorry for that, but I may as well tell you now that things are settled so far as I am concerned. I've been kicked out and I wouldn't go back again if they came for me in a golden chariot." "I hardly think that's likely to happen," was Champe's cheerful rejoinder.
In a few days, Lee received an anonymous letter from Champe's patron and friend, informing him, that on the day preceding the night for the execution of the plot, Arnold had removed his quarters to another part of the town, to superintend the embarkation of troops preparing, as was rumored, for an expedition, to be placed under his own direction.
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