Nathaniel wasn't certain what to expect when he opened the coffeehouse after a few hours of sleep. He wasn't certain if any of the regular customers would visit or if they would decide to stay away after witnessing his arrest. In the end, he needn't have worried. 

The first to arrive, as always, was Samuel, who nodded to them. Several others came and went throughout the day, much the same as any other day before. Many expressed their happiness at seeing the establishment open and himself out of jail. 

"Of course they had no evidence," Mr. Stewart, the tailor, declared. Though Nathaniel wondered at the almost knowing look he gave him. "You don't seem the ones to flaunt yourselves in the street. No one can claim to know the truth of what happens inside a man's own house." He slapped the bar. "I'll have a chocolate."

Only one comment bothered him for more than a moment. It came from John Smith, who announced, "Unlike much of Boston, I don't believe you secretly running a molly house."

"Much of Boston thinks that?" Nathaniel questioned, concerned.

Smith shrugged. "I heard one person say it. Everyone else is busy worrying about what the soldiers are doing. Something is coming. People are moving in and out of the city in a mighty hurry lately."

"Everyone is always speculating about what is coming," he replied. "It seems to be almost the only thing people do now. Whatever is going to happen should hurry itself and happen."

Smith held up his glass. "I'll toast to that."

He was especially surprised when the soldiers arrived in the evening to drink and gamble with Henri. They cheered the moment they saw him and hurried to their usual table while Henri got them all their drinks.

"We haven't lost our favorite card man!" someone yelled, getting cheers from all his friends.

"Someone needs to take your money and it might as well be a Frenchman!" Henri called back from the kitchen doorway, causing nearly every person in the tavern to laugh.

"I'm so happy all is as it should be once more," Marie said with a smile, leaning against the bar.

Nathaniel nodded. "As am I."

And so it seemed as though everything was following the same routine as usual, until, an hour later, Henri walked into the kitchen again and asked Nathaniel for assistance as he passed. Nathaniel slipped out from behind the bar and followed him to the storeroom. When Nathaniel entered, Henri was already scrawling a note on a small scrap of parchment. It was a simple numerically-coded message that Nathaniel immediately interpreted from the key he had memorized: Concord – tonight.

Henri quickly blotted the ink and folded the note, then met Nathaniel's gaze as he handed it to him. He passed out of the room and went about getting more drinks for the gambling soldiers.

Nathaniel carefully passed the note to John, who immediately read it in such a discrete way that Nathaniel could not even see him do it. He abruptly set his cup down. "Tell me," he said, very deliberately, "what is the date?"

Nathaniel thought a moment. "It's the eighteenth of April," he replied.

"Are you very certain?" John asked.

Nathaniel nodded. "Completely."

"Then my Elizabeth has been waiting for me!" John exclaimed. He stood quickly, then paused and drained his cup. He put his hat on and set a few coins on the bar with a nod. "Thank you. I must go. You can take whatever coin is extra. I haven't the time to count it properly." 

Then he left.

The man who was sitting near him laughed around his pipe. "Left his sweetheart waiting for a drink or two. We will either see him even more often or never again."

Nathaniel smiled to humor him and collected the coins. "I certainly hope to see him again."