roguish maid, who wore the knots of rose-colored ribbon.

It was time for supper, and instruments were being tuned into order for
a grand march, to be led by Madam De Lancey, when Betty, standing near a
large Indian screen, talking with Mr. Van Brugh, who was a dear friend
of her father's, became aware of subdued voices at her elbow, on the
other side of the screen.

[Illustration: THE MINUET]

"I tell you I am right," said one of these testily; "I would stake my
sword that he is not what he seems. I saw him exchange a bit of paper
with yonder manikin fiddler, who has been under suspicion for some
weeks, and cleverly they did it, too. It's not the first time, I'll
warrant, that Mynheer von Gam--"

"No, no, not Von at all; you are safe to be mistaken, Colonel Tarleton;
the gentleman is one Diedrich Gansevoort from the Albany beverwyck.
Madam De Lancey herself made us acquainted; he is no spy."

Betty's heart sank. She murmured something in reply as Mr. Van Brugh
paused. This was the famous and cruel Colonel Tarleton. If he had traced
Oliver, then all was lost. She strained her ears for further
information, smiling up at Mr. Van Brugh as she waved her fan gently to
and fro.

"If you are so sure of it, why did he, an apparent stranger, have aught
to communicate to that fiddler yonder? Go quietly through the crowd and
watch the gentleman as he appears at supper; I'll have a word with Yorke
on the subject," and they moved off in the direction of the ballroom.