"There was some such thing I do believe, upon his head."
"And how long had you been separated?" asked the president.
"One year and two months."
"Did he wear a loose greatcoat of coarse materials?" inquired the
officer, referring to the paper that contained the charges.
"There was an overcoat."
"And you think that it was to see you, only, that he came out?"
"Me, and my daughters."
"A boy of spirit," whispered the president to his silent comrade. "I see
but little harm in such a freak; 'twas imprudent, but then it was kind."
"Do you know that your son was intrusted with no commission from Sir
Henry Clinton, and that the visit to you was not merely a cloak to
other designs?"
"How can I know it?" said Mr. Wharton, in alarm. "Would Sir Henry
intrust me with such a business?"
"Know you anything of this pass?" exhibiting the paper that Dunwoodie
had retained when Wharton was taken.
"Nothing--upon my honor, nothing," cried the father, shrinking from the
paper as from contagion.
"On your oath?"
"Nothing."
"Have you other testimony? This does not avail you, Captain Wharton. You
have been taken in a situation where your life is forfeited; the labor
of proving your innocence rests with yourself. Take time to reflect,
and be cool."
There was a frightful calmness in the manner of this judge that appalled
the prisoner.
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