He had pleasant memories of Wilton, Colden, Carson and
the others, and while he was making new friends he did not commit the
crime of forgetting old ones. It was his hope that he should meet them
all again, not merely after the war, but long before.
In his comings and goings among the great of their day Robert kept a
keen eye for the vision of St. Luc. He half hoped, half feared that
some time in the twilight or the full dusk of the night he would see
in some narrow street the tall figure wrapped in its great cloak. But
the chevalier did not appear, and Robert felt that he had not really
come as a spy upon the English army and its preparations. He must have
gone, days since.
He met Adrian Van Zoon three times, that is, he was in the same room
with him, although they spoke together only once. The merchant had in
his presence an air of detachment. He seemed to be one who continually
carried a burden, and a stripling just from the woods could not long
have a place, either favorable or unfavorable, in his memory. Robert
began to wonder if St. Luc had net been mistaken. What could a man
born and bred in France, and only in recent years an inhabitant of
Canada, know of Adrian Van Zoon of New York? What, above all, could he
know that would cause him to warn Robert against him? But this, like
all his other questions, disappeared in the enjoyments of the
moment.
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