[6]
CHAPTER XIV.
_The Bad Shilling Turns up Once More in Queen Street._
"This will be sad news to Mrs. Winwood, gentlemen," said Captain
Falconer to Tom and me, as we rode toward the place where we should
take the boats for New York. The day was well forward, but its gray
sunless light held little cheer for such a silent, dejected crew as we
were.
The captain was too much the self-controlled gentleman to show great
disappointment on his own account, though he had probably set store
upon this venture, as an opportunity that he lacked in his regular
duties on General Clinton's staff, where he served pending the delayed
enlistment of the loyalist cavalry troop he had been sent over to
command. But though he might hide his own regrets, now that we were
nearing Margaret, it was proper to consider our failure with reference
to her.
"Doubtless," he went on, "there was treachery against us somewhere;
for we cannot suppose such vigilance and preparation to be usual with
the rebels. But we must not hint as much to her. The leak may have
been, you see, through one of the instruments of her choosing--the man
Meadows, perhaps, or--" (He stopped short of mentioning Ned
Faringfield, whose trustworthiness on either side he was warranted, by
much that he had heard, in doubting.) "In any case," he resumed,
"'twould be indelicate to imply that her judgment of men, her
confidence in any one, could have been mistaken.
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