the night was out, though I should have to crawl on hands and knees the
half-score miles to Jennifer House.

Having decided, I was keen to be about it while the night should
last--the friendly darkness, and some fine flush of excitement which
again had come at need to take the place of healthful vigor. But when I
would have quit the window to begone upon my errand a sober second
thought delayed me. If my simple counterplot should fail, some knowledge
of the powder-convoy's route would be of prime importance. Lacking the
time to warn the over-mountain men, the next best thing would be to set
some band of patriot troopers upon the trail and so to overtake the
convoy. Nay, on this second thought's rehearsing the last expedient
seemed the better of the two, since thus the plot would come to naught
and we would be the gainers by the capture of the powder.

So now you know why I should stick and hang by toe and finger-tip and
glare across the little space that gaped between my itching fingers and
the bit of parchment passed from hand to hand around the table's end. If
I could make a shift to rob them of this map--

It was a desperate chance, but in the frenzy of the moment I resolved to
take it. Their placings round the table favored me. Gilbert Stair and
the lawyer sat fair across from me, but they were still intent upon
their figurings. Of the trio at the table's end, the baronet and the
captain had their backs to me. The younger officer sat across, and he
was staring broadly at my window, though with wine-fogged eyes that saw
not far beyond the bottle-neck, I thought.

My one hope hinged upon the boldness of a dash. If I could spring within
and sweep the two candlesticks from the table, there was a chance that I