MY LADY OF DOUBT

CHAPTER I

A PERILOUS MISSION


Several of us had remained rather late that evening about the cheerful
fire in front of my hut,--for the nights were still chilly, although it
was May, and the dreadful winter passed,--discussing the improved
condition of our troops, the rigid discipline of Baron de Steuben, and
speculating on what would probably be attempted now that Sir Henry
Clinton had succeeded to the command of the forces opposing us. I
remember Maxwell joined us, together with Knox of the artillery, each man
with a different theory of campaign, but alike agreeing that, in spite of
all we had endured during those months of suffering and privation at
Valley Forge, the time to strike once again was near at hand, although
our numbers were barely half that of the enemy.

It must have been midnight when I crept into a bunk, and, even then,
found sleep absent, my eyes gazing out through the open door to where the
embers of the fire glowed red, and a sentinel paced back and forth in
regular monotony. Suddenly he halted, and challenged hoarsely, flinging
forward his gun. There was an indistinguishable answer, and, as I
straightened up, the figure of a man blotted out the doorway.

"Major Lawrence?"

"Yes. What is it?" I swung to the floor, unable to recognize the voice.
The man's hand rose to salute.