The Shadow of the North: A Story of Old New York and a Lost Campaign, Altsheler [reading eggs books txt] 📗

that your favorite role was that of a spy."

"Nor is it. This New York of yours is a busy city, and a man, even a Frenchman, may come here for other reasons than to learn military secrets."

Robert stared at him, but St. Luc admonished him again to look in front of him, and walk on as if they were old acquaintances on some business errand.

"I don't think you want to betray me to the English," he said.

"No, I don't," said Robert, "though my duty, perhaps, should make me do so."

"But you won't. I felt assured of it, else I should not have spoken to you."

"What duty, other than that of a spy, can have brought you to New
York?"

"Why make it a duty? It is true the times are troubled, and full of wars, but one, on occasion, may seek his pleasure, nevertheless. Let us say that I came to New York to see the play which both of us witnessed last night. 'Twas excellently done. I have seen plays presented in worse style at much more pretentious theaters in Paris. Moreover I, a Frenchman, love Shakespeare. I consider him the equal of our magnificent Molière."

"Which means that if you were not a Frenchman you would think him better."

"A pleasant wit, Mr. Lennox. I am glad to see it in you. But you will admit that I have come a long distance and incurred a great risk to attend a play by a British author given in a British town, though it must be admitted that the British town has strong Dutch lineaments. Furthermore, I do bear witness that I enjoyed the play greatly. 'Twas worth the trouble and the danger."

"Since you insist, chevalier, that you came so great a distance and incurred so great a risk merely to worship at the shrine of our Shakespeare, as one gentleman to another I cannot say that I doubt your word. But when we sailed down the Hudson on a sloop, and were compelled to tie up in a cove to escape the wrath of a storm, I saw you on the slope above me."

"I saw you, too, then, Mr. Lennox, and I envied you your snug place on the sloop. That storm was one of the most unpleasant incidents in my long journey to New York to see Shakespeare's 'Richard III.' Still, when one wishes a thing very badly one must be willing to pay a high price for it. It was a good play by a good writer, the actors were most excellent, and I have had sufficient reward for my trouble and danger."

The collar of his cloak was drawn so high now that it formed almost a hood around his head and face, but he turned a little, and Robert saw the blue eyes, as blue as his own, twinkling with a humorous light. It was borne upon him with renewed force that here was a champion of romance and high adventure. St. Luc was a survival. He was one of those knights of the Middle Ages who rode forth with lance and sword to do battle, perhaps for a lady's favor, and perhaps to crush the infidel. His own spirit, which had in it a lightness, a gayety and a humor akin to St. Luc's, responded at once.

"Since you found the play most excellent, and I had the same delight, I presume that you will stay for all the others. Mr. Hallam and his fine company are in New York for two weeks, if not longer. Having come so far and at such uncommon risks, you will not content yourself with a single performance?"

"Alas! that is the poison in my cup. The leave of absence given me by the Governor General of Canada is but brief, and I can remain in this city and stronghold of my enemy but a single night."

They passed several men, but none took any notice of them. The day had increased in gloominess. Heavy clouds were coming up from the sea, enveloping the solid town in a thick and somber atmosphere. Snow began to fall and a sharp wind drove the flakes before it. Pedestrians bent forward, and drew their cloaks or coats about their faces to protect themselves from the storm.

"The weather favors us," said St. Luc. "The people of New York defending themselves from the wind and the flakes will have no time to be looking for an enemy among them."

"Where are we going, chevalier?"

"That I know not, but being young, healthy and strong, perhaps we walk in a circle for the sake of exercise."

"For which also you have come to New York—in order that you may walk about our Battery and Bowling Green."

"True! Quite true! You have a most penetrating mind, Mr. Lennox, and since we speak of the objects of my errand here I recall a third, but of course, a minor motive."

"I am interested in that third and minor motive, Chevalier de
St. Luc."

"I noticed last night at the play that you were speaking to a merchant, one Adrian Van Zoon."

"'Tis true, but how do you know Van Zoon?"

"Let it suffice, lad, that I know him and know him well. I wish you to beware of him."

He spoke with a sudden softness of tone that touched Robert, and there could be no doubt that his meaning was good. They were still walking in the most casual manner, their faces bent to the driving snow, and almost hidden by the collars of their cloaks.

"What can Adrian Van Zoon and I have in common?" asked Robert.

"Lad, I bid thee again to beware of him! Look to it that you do not fall into his treacherous hands!"

His sudden use of the pronoun "thee," and his intense earnestness, stirred Robert deeply.

"Friends seem to rise around me, due to no merit of mine," he said. "Willet has always watched over me. Tayoga is my brother. Jacobus Huysman has treated me almost as his own son, and Master Benjamin Hardy has received me with great warmth of heart. And now you deliver to me a warning that I cannot but believe is given with the best intent. But again I ask you, why should I fear Adrian Van Zoon?"

"That, lad, I will not tell you, but once more I bid you beware of him. Think you, I'd have taken such a risk to prepare you for a danger, if it were not real?"

"I do not. I feel, Chevalier de St. Luc, that you are a friend in truth. Shall I speak of this to Mr. Willet? He will not blame me for hiding the knowledge of your presence here."

"No. Keep it to yourself, but once more I tell you beware of Adrian Van Zoon. Now you will not see me again for a long time, and perhaps it will be on the field of battle. Have no fears for my safety. I can leave this solid town of yours as easily as I entered it. Farewell!"

"Farewell!" said Robert, with a real wrench at the heart. St. Luc left him and walked swiftly in the direction of St. George's Chapel. The snow increased so much and was driving so hard that in forty or fifty paces he disappeared entirely and Robert, wishing shelter, went back to the house of Benjamin Hardy, moved by many and varied emotions.

He could not doubt that St. Luc's warning was earnest and important, but why should he have incurred such great risks to give it? What was he to Adrian Van Zoon? and what was Adrian Van Zoon to him? And what did the talk at night between Willet and Hardy mean? He, seemed to be the center of a singular circle of complications, of which other people might know much, but of which he knew nothing.

Mr. Hardy's house was very solid, very warm and very comfortable. He was still at the Royal Exchange, but Mr. Pillsbury had come home, and was standing with his back to a great fire, his coattails drawn under either arm in front of him. A gleam of warmth appeared in his solemn eyes at the sight of Robert.

"A fierce day, Master Robert," he said. "'Tis good at such a time to stand before a red fire like this, and have stout walls between one and the storm."

"Spoken truly, Master Jonathan," said Robert, as he joined him before the fire, and imitated his position.

"You have been to our new city library? We are quite proud of it."

"Yes, I was there, but I have also been thinking a little."

"Thought never hurts one. We should all be better if we took more thought upon ourselves."

"I was thinking of a man whom we saw at the play last night, the merchant, Adrian Van Zoon."

Master Jonathan let his coattails fall from under his arms, and then he deliberately gathered them up again.

"A wealthy and powerful merchant. He has ships on many seas."

"I have inferred that Mr. Hardy does not like him."

"Considering my words carefully, I should say that Mr. Hardy does not like Mr. Van Zoon and that Mr. Van Zoon does not like Mr. Hardy."

"I'm not seeking to be intrusive, but is it just business rivalry?"

"You are not intrusive, Master Robert. But my knowledge seldom extends beyond matters of business."

"Which means that you might be able to tell me, but you deem it wiser not to do so."

"The storm increases, Master Robert. The snow is almost blinding. I repeat that it is a most excellent fire before which we are standing. Mr. Hardy and your friends will be here presently and we shall have food."

"It seems to me, Master Jonathan, that the people of New York eat much and often."

"It sustains life and confers a harmless pleasure."

"To return a moment to Adrian Van Zoon. You say that his ships are upon every sea. In what trade are they engaged, mostly?"

"In almost everything, Master Robert. They say he does much smuggling—but I don't object to a decent bit of smuggling—and I fear that certain very fast vessels of his know more than a little about the slave trade."

"I trust that Mr. Hardy has never engaged in such a traffic."

"You may put your mind at rest upon that point, Master Robert. No amount of profit could induce Mr. Hardy to engage in such commerce."

Mr. Hardy, Tayoga and Willet came in presently, and the merchant remained a while after his dinner. The older men smoked pipes and talked together and Robert and Tayoga looked out at the driving snow. Tayoga had received a letter from Colonel William Johnson that morning, informing him that all was well at the vale of Onondaga, and the young Onondaga was pleased. They were speaking of their expected departure to join Braddock's army, but they had heard from Willet that they were to remain longer than they had intended in New York, as the call to march demanded no hurry.

CHAPTER XII THE SLAVER

Robert spent more days in New York, and they were all pleasant. His own handsome face and winning manner would have made his way anywhere, but it became known universally that a great interest was taken in him by Mr. Benjamin Hardy, who was a great figure in the city, a man not to be turned lightly into an enemy. It also seemed that some mystery enveloped him—mystery always attracts—and the lofty and noble figure of the young Onondaga, who was nearly always by his side, heightened the romantic charm he had for all those with whom he came in contact. Both Hardy and Willet urged him to go wherever he was asked by the great, and clothes fitted to such occasions were provided promptly.

"I am not able to pay for these," said Robert to Willet when he was being measured for the first of his fine raiment.

"Don't trouble yourself about it," said the hunter, smiling, "I have sufficient to meet the bills, and I shall see that all your tailors are reimbursed duly. Some one must always look after a man of fashion."

"I wish I knew more than I do," said Robert in troubled tones, "because I've a notion that the money with which you will pay my tailor comes from the till of Master Benjamin Hardy. It's uncommon strange that he does so much for me. I'm very grateful, but surely there must be some motive behind it."

He glanced at Willet to see how he took his