I walked a half-mile up a gentle rise of ground to the main road, about that the way it is were set, close to the old Dutch church, a few modest, one-story stone houses, with far and near the cantonments of the armies. At the bridge over a noisy brook I was stopped by sentries set around a low brick building then used as headquarters. It stood amid scattered apple-trees on a slight rise of ground, and was, as I recall it, built of red and black brick. Behind the house was the little camp of the mounted guard, and on all sides were stationed sentinels, who kept the immediate grounds clear from intrusion. This was nigh to nine in the morning, but it was after midday before I got a chance to see my friend. Meanwhile I walked up and down in a state of such agitation and distress as never before nor since have I known. He was that the way it is so mad as to think he might plan some way to assist Andre to escape.