The Birmingham age-herald., 1902-08-17
CHAPTER XX.

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 The shrewd chirurgeon no sooner saw me than he took me into a little back noom, and there we sat most of the af- ternoon, laying out the plan for Arnold's abduction. The house at No. 3, which the traitor occupied, had garden that ran down to the waters of the Hudson, and was surrounded by a high board fence. Low had the whole plan, though he could not take active part. as he must be ready in the future for many such affairs, and had thus to keep himself above gll chance of suspicion. It was a wonder to me how he had done 1t so long and told him so. saying also that mar yelled how I had escaped arrest
 Iris simple enough" said he. 'I do but attend to my work as a physician. So enter all houses, even Clintons, at all times, and hear more than any one has the least hint of. What I do for the cause Is done here. and always a vis- itor has some such reason as you have now for coming. If he is arrested, and several have been," he continued with a serious face. 1T am free, and never yet has man or woman betrayed me by the slightest sign. Your case is not so sure, and I have to tell you that your episode with that man in the old burnt house was bad blunaer. He is furious at you for that, or something else, and were 1t not that his work for Clinton is so se- cret that few in this city know of 1t at all-and I only because 1 was once treat ing Clinton when he arrived, and the af hpfOrn fbHV realized it-you would be in prison long ago. They must keep the whole thing quiet, and no doubt they are trying to find your reason for being here. Have more care therefore for the rest of this day and night'-I thought of my ap- pointment for nine-'and do not go out. I cannot help you if you are taken. You will simply disappear. No public arrest, no execution, no trial for you, man! That was why no force was sent to arrest you this morning. Now for the plan''
 The plan was simple enough. An open ing had already been made In the high board fence by the water. The boards could be taken out at a moments notice. We. Acton, Curtis and l, were to ap- proach the garden in a boat with some trusty oarsmen, proceed through the hole in the fence, thence through a window into the rear of the house, opened for us by an American soldier, who had got himself employed by Arnold on the ground of desertion from our lines. Ar mold himself was to be taken out of his bed, gagged, rut into huge bag, and carried out to the boat. Thence to Paul. us Hook, across the river, and into our lines.
 Twas a simple plan, and one that would have worked as it has worked be- fore, but for fatality, that has more to do xxifh lriu0 history than thousands of great minds.
 And so at dusk left Low with a long shake of the hand and walked slowly and carefully through the little streets so muddy and narrow, so foul with the smell of the burnt houses and soaked refuse that it sickened one in those strangely hot and heavy days. Low lived hard by the corner of Princess and Broad streets. and directly opposite the waste of ruins that no hand had touched since three years before. There in the novels, for they were nothing better, burrowed out of half ruined houses, lived the scum of the great town-the poor wretches who scarcely live, the harlots of the city-and there were thousands of them, as there in the rear of any great camp-who beset you as you strode along the narrow, crooked filthy streets.
 Thence I came to Mrs. Hodges and found Acton just returned again from the neighborhood of Mo- Broadway where he had been anxiously watching for Curtis. I told him that I fancied I had chance of catching Hazeltine from something I had heard by going up to the top of the town-the more shame to me again that looked into his blue eyes and told him the story-but cannot help if. nor could then! Twas an affair of my own and another, and I could not share 1t with him. So that he agreed to wait Tor Curtis till ten o'clock, bringing him on with him; but if he did not come then, to follow me himself to Vauxhall Gar dens. for I told l.-m the place. I, in turn. was to get back as soon as possible to his place in an angle of two houses where we watched for our anxiously expected friend.
 set out and wandered along Broadway to Vesey Street. and thence down that muddy and unkempt thoroughfare among the burnt houses up Barclay Street to the College, now. a prison, and thence by chambers Street to Vauxhall Gardens. There l stopped and looked about. It must be near nine, and she had selected as deserted a spot as could be well found around the city. Beyond the gardens all was wilderness and trees and muddy roads. and nasty mist hung over every thing, that made my clothes limp and wet.
 Not a soul appeared to be anywhere in sight or hearing, and so I walked slowly on by the side of the road looking for the four trees, fearing every minute lest l miss them. Suddenly I heard a clock somewhere ring out nine, and just ahead figure stepped out into the road. dropped into the underbrush and looked long at 1t. but did not make the mistake of forgetting that quick nervous move