my pocket and found, not some old letter, as I hoped, but the crumpled
parchment map snatched and hidden when Captain Stuart had winced and
dropped it at the bidding of the whistling sword about his ears.

How it was they had not searched me for it, I know not; though haply the
captain did not guess how he had lost it. Be that as it might, I had it
safe, and Dick should have it safe, and use it, too, to some good
purpose, as I fondly hoped.

You'd hardly think from the slow and clumsy spinning of this tale that I
could crowd the narrative of all that I had seen and heard into a
niggard three-score words or less. But this I did, writing them upon the
margin of the captain's map, and noting in an added line the pricking
out of the powder convoy's route. And while my pen was looping on the
flourish to my name, my eager little lady seized the pounce-box, sanded
me the heavy trailings of the quill, snatched and hid the parchment in
her bosom, and was gone.

And but for this; that I heard the door-latch click behind her, and then
the heavy wooden bar fall into place, I might have thought the
happenings of the hour the unsubstantial fancies of a dream.




X

HOW A FORLORN HOPE CAME TO GRIEF