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 Mehitable's face fell. But a second later she raised it with an eager inquiry.

"Didst have aught to tell him concerning my sister Charity and Young Cy Jones?" she asked, quivering.

"Aye," nodded Mr. Gifford.

"Oh, dost know where they be, now?" Mehitable looked at him with wild hope in her eyes.

But he shook his head. "Nay," he answered quickly, "do not raise your hopes thus! I know not where they are, now! I could but tell him that I served them—I and Sturgins here—on the day your father said they were last seen in Newark."

Mehitable's glance sought the tow-headed servant, Sturgins, and found his unpleasant gaze fixed upon her, an ugly sneer only half hidden.

"But he said" began shrugged shoulders wearily. Of what use to stir up trouble here even if the servant were a Tory! Doubtless he performed his tasks well enough, and servants, even with the bound help and the slaves, were scarce. Many days later Mehitable was to regret bitterly not having denounced Sturgins at that moment for a Tory. But now she remained silent.

"He said?" prompted Mr. Gifford encouragingly.

"Nothing." So Mehitable dismissed the subject and stood pondering anxiously. Then she turned toward the door. "I think I will go and seek my father."

"Best wait here," commenced Master Gifford. But Mehitable had already passed out once more into the darkness.

As she stood hesitating by the taproom door her