"On the bank of Nottoway River, in Dinwiddie, Virginia, and bound for Petersburg."

"The object of your journey?"

"To sell dried fruits and winter vegetables."

"Then you travelled in a cart, or a wagon?"

"In a cart, general."

"You reached Petersburg without meeting with any incident on the way?"

"I met with two very curious ones, general. I see you know something about the affair, and are anxious to know every thing. I will tell you the whole truth; but it will be best to let me do it in my own way."

"Do so, then," said Mohun, fixing his eyes more intently upon the spy.

Swartz was silent again for more than a minute, gazing on the floor.

Then he raised his head, pa.s.sed his red handkerchief over his brow, and said:--

"To begin at the beginning, general. At the time you speak of, December, 1856, I was a small landholder in Dinwiddie, and made my living by carting vegetables and garden-truck to Petersburg. Well, one morning in winter--you remind me that it was the thirteenth of December,--I set out, as usual, in my cart drawn by an old mule, with a good load on board, to go by way of Monk's Neck. I had not gone two miles, however, when pa.s.sing through a lonely piece of woods on the bank of the river, I heard a strange cry in the brush. It was the most startling you can think of, and made my heart stop beating. I jumped down from my cart, left it standing in the narrow road, and went to the spot. It was a strange sight I saw. On the bank of the river, I saw a woman lying drenched with water, and half-dead. She was richly dressed, and of very great beauty--but I never saw any human face so pale, or clothes more torn and draggled."

The spy paused. Mohun shaded his eyes from the light, with his hands, and said coolly:--

"Go on."

"Well, general--that was enough to astonish anybody--and what is more astonishing still, I have never to this day discovered the meaning of the woman's being there--for it was plain that she was a lady. She was half-dead with cold, and had cried out in what seemed to be a sort of delirium. When I raised her up, and wrung the wet out of her clothes, she looked at me so strangely that I was frightened. I asked her how she had come there, but she made no reply. Where should I take her? She made no reply to that either. She seemed dumb--out of her wits--and, to make a long story short, I half led and half carried her to the cart in which I put her, making a sort of bed for her of some old bags.

"I set out on my way again, without having the least notion what I should do with her--for she seemed a lady--and only with a sort of idea that her friends might probably pay me for my trouble, some day.

"Well, I went on for a mile or two farther, when a new adventure happened to me. That was stranger still--it was like a story-book; and you will hardly believe me--but as I was going through a piece of woods, following a by-road by which I cut off a mile or more, I heard groans near the road, and once more stopped my cart. Then I listened. I was scared, and began to believe in witchcraft. The groans came from the woods on my left, and there was no doubt about the sound--so, having listened for some time, I mustered courage to go in the direction of the sound. Can you think what I found, general?"

"What?" said Mohun, in the same cool voice; "tell me."

"A man lying in a grave;--a real grave, general--broad and deep--a man with a hole through his breast, and streaming with blood."

"Is it possible?"

And Mohun uttered a laugh.

"Just as I tell you, general--it is the simple, naked truth. When I got to the place, he was struggling to get out of the grave, and his breast was bleeding terribly. I never saw a human being look paler. 'Help!' he cried out, in a suffocated voice like, when he saw me--and as he spoke, he made such a strong effort to rise, that his wound gushed with blood, and he fainted."

"He fainted, did he? And what did you do?" said Mohun.

"I took him up in my arms, general, as I had taken the woman, carried him to my cart, when I bound up his breast in the best way I could, and laid him by the side of the half-drowned lady."

"To get a reward from _his_ friends, too, no doubt?"

"Well, general, we must live, you know. And did I not deserve something for being so scared--and for the use of my mule?"

"Certainly you did. Is not the laborer worthy of his hire? But go on, sir--your tale is interesting."

"Tale, general? It is the truth--on the word of Swartz!"

"I no longer doubt now, if I did before," said Mohun; "but tell me the end of your adventure."

"I can do that in a few words, general. I whipped up my old mule, and went on through the woods, thinking what I had best do with the man and the woman I had saved, I could take them to Petersburg, and tell my story to the mayor or some good citizen, who would see that they were taken care of. But as soon as I said 'mayor' to myself, I thought 'he is the chief of police.' _Police_!--that is one of the ugliest words in the language, general! Some people shiver, and their flesh crawls, when you cut a cork, or scratch on a window pane--well, it is strange, but I have always felt in that way when I heard, or thought of, the word, _police_! And here I was going to have dealings with the said _police_!

I was going to say 'I found these people on the Nottoway--one half- drowned, and the other in a newly dug grave!' No, I thank you! We never know what our characters will stand, and I was by no means certain that mine would stand that! Then the reward--I wished to have my lady and gentleman under my eye. So, after thinking over the matter for some miles, I determined to leave them with a crony of mine near Monk's Neck, named Alibi, who would take care of them and say nothing. Well, I did so, and went on to Petersburg, where I sold my truck. When I got back they were in bed, and on my next visit they were at the point of death. About that time I was taken sick, and was laid up for more than three months. When I went to see my birds at Monk's Neck, they had flown!"

"Without leaving you their adieux?"

"No, they were at least polite. They left me a roll of bank notes--more than I thought they had about them."

"You had searched them, of course, when they were lying in your cart,"

said Mohun.

Swartz smiled.

"I acknowledge it, general--I forgot to mention the fact. I had found only a small amount in the gentleman's pocket-book--nothing on the lady--and I never could understand where he or she had concealed about their persons such a considerable amount of money--though I suppose, in a secret pocket."

Mohun nodded.

"That is often done--well, that was the last of them?"

Swartz smiled, and glanced at Mohun.

"What is the use of any concealment, my dear Mr. Swartz?" said the latter. "You may as well tell the whole story, as you have gone this far."

"You are right, general, and I will finish. The war broke out, and I sold my truck patch, and invested in a better business--that is, running the blockade across the Potomac, and smuggling in goods for the Richmond market. On one of these trips, I met, plump, in the streets of Washington, no less a person than the lady whom I had rescued. She was richly dressed, and far more beautiful, but there was no mistaking her.

I spoke to her; she recognized me, took me to her house, and here I found _the gentleman_, dressed in a fine new uniform. He was changed too--his wound had long healed, he was stout and strong, but I knew him, too, at a glance. Well, I spent the evening, and when I left the house had accepted an offer made me to combine a new business with that of blockade runner."

"That of spy, you mean?" said Mohun.

Swartz smiled.

"You speak plainly, general. We call ourselves 'secret agents'--but either word expresses the idea!"

XXIX.

THE PAPER.

Mohun raised his head, and looked Swartz full in the face. His glance had grown, if possible, more penetrating than before, and a grim smile responded to the unctuous expression of the spy.

"Well, my dear Mr. Swartz," he said coolly, "that is a curious history.

Others might doubt its accuracy, but I give you my word that I do not!