“Have the Governor and his wife gone?”
“Yes, they left this morning,” Jamie answered, “Are you ready?”
“Yes. I brought a lantern,” she said, holding it up. Jamie recognized it as one of the small oil lanterns from home.
Mr. Roberts looked at her as he ate a slice of cheese, then asked,
“Are you sure you should do this? If you are discovered-“
“But I won’t be!” she insisted, “Jamie is going to keep watch for me while I am in the Governor’s office. He’ll give a warning if anyone comes.”
Jamie and Sarah went out to the hallway. No one was around. They could hear the servants’ muffled voices at the back of the house. Jamie went to the office door and turned the handle.
“It’s locked!” he declared.
“Oh, no! Now what will we do?”
“We’ll have to get the key. There must be one somewhere.”
He and Sarah tiptoed across the wood floor towards the end of the hall. There was a small breakfast room on the left and a large dining room on the right. Straight ahead there was a door slightly ajar that led out to the kitchen. They could hear the servants laughing, and when they peeked through the opening, there was Mr. Heath, sitting at the table with two maids, drinking ale.
Sarah and Jamie moved away from the door. They went into the small butler's pantry where food was kept until serving time. Jamie began opening some of the cupboard drawers. He found silverware in one and candles in another. Sarah gasped, seeing a huge brass key ring with keys hanging on the wall. Quietly, she lifted them off the hook and tapped Jamie’s shoulder. At first his eyes lit up, but clouded when he saw there were at least a dozen on the ring.
They tiptoed back to the General's office door and began trying each key in the lock while watching the kitchen door.
Jamie tried the first three, then the next and the next, but none of them worked. In his haste, they slipped from his hand and dropped to the floor with a whack. Sarah sucked in her breath and held it as they both stood frozen.
The voices in the kitchen ceased, and there was dead silence. Then Mr. Heath’s voice came louder,
“I’ll just take a look,” he said.
Jamie grabbed the keys from the floor and shoved them into his pocket. Sarah ran to the drawing room couch and flopped down, pretending to tidy up after the picnic meal. Jamie dashed to the mural and picked up a brush with no paint on it and dabbed at the painting alongside Mr. Roberts, who gave him a reassuring wink.
Mr. Heath went into the vestibule and opened the front door. When he saw no one on the front step, he came back inside and entered the drawing room.
“Pardon me, sir,” he said to Mr. Roberts, “Did you hear anyone at the door, by any chance?”
Mr. Roberts shook his head, “No, no one was at the door. But my apprentice dropped a bucket on the floor and it made a loud noise. I’m sorry if we disturbed you.”
Mr. Heath saw the wooden bucket on the floor and gave a small smile, “Not at all. Will you be much longer, do you think?”
Mr. Roberts looked back at the painting and shook his head, “No more than half an hour.”
Heath nodded and gave a slight bow, “Very good, sir.”
He left the room, and everyone sighed with relief. Sarah’s heart was pounding against her ribs. She looked at Jamie and he beckoned her to follow him. They stopped at the doorway to make sure that Mr. Heath did not notice the missing keys, but he had already resumed his place in the kitchen. This time, the kitchen door was left further ajar, and the servants would be able to hear every sound from the hallway.
Jamie carefully withdrew the ring of keys from his pocket and realized that he had no idea which keys he had tried and which ones he hadn’t, so he had to start all over again. Sarah stood beside him to block the view of any servants who might come into the hallway. She became increasingly nervous when key after key refused to unlock the door. If none of the keys were the right one, when would they ever get another chance to get into the office?
Finally they heard a click as the bolt shot open. Jamie turned the handle and the door opened slightly. The hinge whined, and he froze. After making sure that no one was coming, he carefully opened the door which snarled like a small dog. Very slowly, he inched the door open while nervously watching the kitchen door.
Finally the opening was large enough for Sarah to slip through, taking her lantern with her. Jamie pulled the door closed quickly and looked back at the kitchen door. He could still hear the servants laughing, so he stepped across the hall into the drawing room to keep watch.
Table of Contents
Chapter 5: Trapped
Sarah set her lantern on the large elegantly carved wooden desk. There was very little on the top of the desk, and she thought the Governor was most impressively tidy. She tried to pull open the top drawer but found it locked. She let out a soft groan of frustration, and began searching for the key. She looked under the ink pot, a candlestick, and a small clock. Her eyes fell upon a painted brass sculpture of a soldier standing at attention, carrying a rifle, like a guard on duty. With nothing more than a hunch to guide her, she lifted up the heavy statue.
There underneath lay a small key. She scooped it up and crouched down beside the desk, finding the keyhole. She slid the key into the hole and held her breath, praying that it would work.
The lock turned with a click, and she pulled the drawer open smoothly and quietly.
Her heart quickened with excitement, but quickly waned when all she found were writing paper, quill pens, another ink pot, a blotter, a stick of wax, and a brass seal. She closed the drawer slowly and opened the next.
Here she found something more interesting. There were folded papers, like thick letters. She opened one and began to read silently.
‘Dear Mr. North, It is with utmost urgency that I beg you to send an additional seven to ten thousand troops to the Massachusetts Colony. As you know, I have been waiting for reinforcements. The situation here grows more serious each day as the rebels have been gaining strength in numbers and are storing up weapons.’
She glanced through the rest of the letter. It spoke mostly about the rebellious attitudes of the colonists, particularly Sam Adams and John Hancock. It closed by saying,
‘And I assure you that I shall do everything in my power to discover the names of each of the traitors in the Sons of Liberty, arrest them, and bring them to justice. Respectfully yours, General Thomas Gates.’
Her heart pounded fiercely at the mention of the Sons of Liberty. She noted that the date on the letter had been just yesterday, and folded it up and took out another. It was a list of supplies for the army. She put it back and went through two more until she came across one that caught her interest.
The letter was written in some kind of strange language which she had never seen before. The letters resembled odd little shapes, but they were arranged like words in sentences, with commas and periods. Folded in with it was another letter. It seemed to be a translation of the words of the letter and it said, ‘S. Adams and J. Hancock- in Concord at Clark house, keeping secret papers in a trunk, very important evidence.’
Sarah in General Gates' library
The letter was written in some kind of strange language which she had never seen before.
She drew in her breath sharply and hurried to the door to find Jamie.
“Psst!” she whispered to Jamie through the door opening, “Come and look at this!”
He made sure no one was coming, and slipped inside the office.
“Look!” she whispered, holding the letters near the lantern so he could read them.
As he read, his eyes grew with alarm.
“Where did you get this?”
“From the drawer. What language is that?”
Jamie stared at the odd letters and shook his head, “Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. But the message! Someone has told General Gates everything we said at the tavern last night!
”
She nodded.
Suddenly, Mr. Heath’s voice echoed in the hall. “Goodnight, Abby. See you in the morning. Goodnight, Jenny.”
Jamie pressed the letters into Sarah’s hands. “Put them back and turn out the light.”
She nodded and Jamie hurried outside into the hallway, as she carefully closed the door behind him. Mr. Heath’s silhouette moved toward him through the dark hallway. Rather than running away and looking suspicious, Jamie turned to face him and asked,
“Is there some water in the kitchen?”
He really didn’t need the water, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say to explain his presence in the hallway.
Mr. Heath stood before him, looking puzzled. He looked at the office door, and at Jamie. Then he replied,
“Yes, go to the back of the house. There’s a pot of water on the table, but leave some for the morning tea.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Jamie nodded and started to go down the hallway.
“Boy!” Heath shouted.
Jamie stopped and froze in his tracks. He turned around slowly as his heart slammed into his rib cage.
Mr. Heath stated, “You’ll need your bucket.”
Jamie gave a nervous laugh, “Oh, yes, sir, I will. Thanks.”
He hurried back into the drawing room and fetched the bucket.
When he returned, Mr. Heath was still standing in the hall outside the office door.
Jamie set the bucket beside Mr. Roberts, who was packing up his things.
Mr. Heath stood, watching them. All Jamie could think about was Sarah, hiding in the office. He prayed that she wouldn’t open the door.
Mr. Roberts picked up his sketch book and Sarah’s basket and headed towards the front door. Jamie stood, not knowing what to do. How would Sarah get out of the office?
“Come along, Jamie. We’ve kept Mr. Heath awake long enough. He’s thinking about his bed, I shouldn’t wonder,” Mr. Roberts smiled, looking relaxed and friendly.
Jamie nodded and followed him. Mr. Heath held the front door open.
“Good night, sir,” said Mr. Heath.
“Good night, Mr. Heath,” replied Mr. Roberts, and Jamie followed. His heart was pounding furiously as his mind drew nearer to panic, thinking of Sarah, trapped inside the General’s office. How would she get out? What would happen if she were discovered?
Table of Contents
Chapter 6: Suspicion
Mr. Heath closed the door behind them and locked it. Jamie grabbed Mr. Roberts’ arm and whispered fiercely, “But she’s still in there!”
Mr. Roberts nodded, looking unconcerned. He went down the steps and began to walk at a leisurely pace down the street. Jamie followed after him, demanding, “We can’t just leave her in there! What will we do? What if he finds her?”
Mr. Roberts stopped and turned to him with a puzzled look, “Jamie, what would you do if you were there in her place?”
Jamie shook his head, and then visualized himself in the office, hiding in the dark, listening as the others left him there.
“I…I guess I’d stay hidden until everyone went to bed…then I’d come out and lock the office door behind me… and leave the house.”
“Then, you can assume that, hopefully, she will do the same, since it is the most logical course of action,” shrugged Mr. Roberts, and he resumed his steady pace.
“But what about the front door? How will she lock it once she’s outside?” Jamie cried.
Mr. Roberts paused and turned to Jamie. The dim glow of a nearby gas lamp left his eyes in shadows.
He said, “I have no idea what she’ll do about that, but it will be interesting to see what she comes up with,” he smiled. He read the concern in Jamie’s eyes and said calmly, “Sarah is a bright young lady, Jamie. Don’t underestimate her. But you may wish to wait for her. I shouldn’t think she’ll be much longer. Why don’t you wait by her horse? She’s not likely to leave without it.”
Jamie nodded with uncertain relief.
“Yes, sir. You’re right about that. Good night, sir.”
“Good night,” Mr. Roberts nodded and continued on his way down the darkened street as his footsteps echoed along the cobblestone pavement. Lacy shadows from nearby trees danced upon the pebbled road, and the damp night air was heavy with fog sneaking into the moonlit city.
Jamie returned to the carriage house where Sarah’s brown mare, Betsy, was tied to a post. The garden was too dark for Jamie’s liking. The surrounding lilac bushes cast deep shadows, and he heard the groan of a door closing somewhere across the street. A cat howled in the distant darkness.
Jamie went back to the front garden and hid in a dark shadow. He heard the footsteps of two Redcoats patrolling the area, chatting as they walked easily down the street with their rifles slung over their shoulders.
The fog was growing thicker, and Jamie worried about Sarah. What was taking so long? What if Mr. Heath saw that the keys were missing and he searched the house? What would he do if he came across Sarah hiding in the office?
Suddenly he was startled by something rustling in the bushes nearby. He pressed back behind a tree.
He could see a figure in the dark crossing the back garden, then taking the horse’s reins.
She led the horse down the garden path to the road and stopped when she saw Jamie emerge from the shadows.
“Sarah! How did you get out?”
She shrugged nonchalantly.
“It was easy. I climbed out of the window from the drawing room on the other side of the house. Come on, let’s go.”
He pulled himself up onto the horse and she climbed up behind him.
“But how did you-“ he began.
“I waited until everyone went to bed. I locked the desk and the office door, and put the keys back. I didn’t dare come out of the front door since it was already locked, so I used the side window. No one saw me, and yes, I did put the window down again, so no one will notice anything.”
Jamie gave a heavy sigh of relief. All his worry had been for nothing. He realized that Mr. Roberts was right about Sarah. She knew how to take care of herself all right. He was flooded with relief and felt a little silly that he had made such a fuss. Despite his embarrassment, he was glad that Sarah was safely out of the house.
“But that letter we found,” Sarah said as he urged the horse out along the street, “It’s unbelievable! Who else knew about the letters that Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock have in Concord?”
Jamie felt anger stirring inside him. “It must be from someone who was at the tavern!”
“But who could it be? There were only a few of us there, and everyone is a member of the Sons of Liberty!”
Jamie shook his head, “It can only mean one thing. One of them is a traitor.”
“But who? Which one?”
Jamie shrugged, “I don’t know, but we’ve got to find out and warn your father right away!”
Later that night, as they sat around the table at home drinking hot cider, Jamie and Sarah discussed their discovery. Jamie said,
“I’ve been trying to think of who was there at the Green Dragon the other night.”
Sarah began counting off on her fingers, “Besides the three of us, I remember Mr. Revere, of course, Mr. Holbrook, Mr. Thomas, Dr. Church, and Doctor Warren. I can’t imagine any of them betraying us!”
Jamie sighed and shook his head, “All dedicated, brave men. I can’t believe it was any of them, either.”
“Then what about someone else who was in the tavern that night? Could someone else have listened in to our conversation?” asked Sarah.
“I suppose it’s possible, but we were very careful not to let that happen.”
“It’s the only possible answer,” she replied.
There was silence in the room, accompanied by the chirping of crickets outside and the crackling fire. The flames licked the apple logs, glowing green and blue at the bottom and fanning into orange and yellow tongues acros
s the top. They flickered and popped, and a spark jumped out and landed on the stone hearth.
“If someone in our group wrote that letter, then we’re all in danger,” said Sarah.
“Yes,” Jamie nodded slowly, “I know.”
He worried in silence about the consequences of their discovery. If the traitor decided to give General Gates the names of his fellow patriots, they would all be sent to London and hanged.
The next day as they rode home from school, Sarah found a poster nailed to a tree and showed it to Jamie. She read it aloud.
“As for their King, John Hancock, and Adams, if they’re taken;
Their heads for signs shall hang on high, Upon that hill called Beacon.”
Sarah cried, “This is terrible! Whoever printed these and hung them up is threatening Mr. Hancock and Mr. Adams with hanging on Beacon Hill!”
“I hope they stay in Concord for their own safety,” Jamie said.
They rode their horse in silence toward Boston Neck, a long arm of land that led into Boston.
“I’ve just thought of something awful!” declared Sarah.
“What?”
“What if the traitor is Mr. Holbrook?”
“Our teacher? That’s ridiculous!” Jamie cried, “He’s the one who let us hide all those weapons we stole from the British and hid under the floor in the school house, remember?”
“I know!” Sarah replied, “But what if he told the British about them and they took the guns away? What if they’re not there any more?”
Jamie frowned, deep in thought. It was something that had never crossed his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, she could be right. He recalled the night they had waited in the darkened fog, standing in the cold, waiting for Jonathan to drive the wagon load of weapons to the schoolhouse. Many had risked their lives that night to hide them under the floor boards.
Without waiting for an answer, Sarah said, “There’s only one way to be sure. We need to find out if those guns are still there.”
“How? Ask him?” Jamie mocked.
“No! We’ve got to look for ourselves! When Mr. Holbrook isn’t there!”