Swartz shook his head.

"That is not in my power, my friend. I did not bring it with me."

"Will you think me very impolite if I say I do not believe you, my dear Swartz?"

Swartz smiled.

"Well, that would be speaking without ceremony, my friend--but I a.s.sure you I am unable to do as you desire."

"Aha! you repeat that curious statement, my dear Swartz! Well, oblige me by accompanying me to the provost-marshal's."

"You arrest me?"

"Precisely."

"As a spy?"

"Why not?"

"It is impossible, Nighthawk!"

"You resist?"

"I might do so."

And, opening his coat, Mr. Swartz exhibited a bowie-knife and revolver.

"I show you these little toys," said he, laughing good-humoredly, "to let you see, my friend, that I might oppose your project--and you know I am not backward in using them on occasion. But I make a difference.

You are not a common police-officer or detective, Nighthawk--you are a friend and comrade, and I am going to prove that I appreciate your feelings, and respect your wishes."

Nighthawk fixed his eyes on the speaker and listened.

"You are a friend of General Mohun's," said Mr. Swartz, with bland good humor; "you wish to secure a certain doc.u.ment in which he is interested; you fancy I have that doc.u.ment here in the city of Richmond; and your object, very naturally, is to force me to surrender it. Well, I do not object to doing so--for a consideration. I fully intend to produce it, when my terms are accepted. I would have stated them to you in the Wilderness, but you were unable to meet me--or to General Mohun, but his violence defeated every thing. You meet me now, and without discussion, demand the paper. I reply, that I have not brought it with me, but three days from this time will meet you at a spot agreed on, with the doc.u.ment, for which you will return me--my consideration."

Nighthawk shook his head.

"Unfortunately, my dear Swartz, experience tells me that the present is always the best time for business--that 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.'"

Mr. Swartz smiled sweetly.

"And I am the bird in your hand?"

"Something like it."

"I am a spy?"

"Don't use hard names, my friend."

"By no means, my dear Nighthawk, and if I have hurt your feelings, I deeply regret it. But I am speaking to the point. You regard me as a Federal spy, lurking in Richmond--you penetrate my disguise, and are going to arrest me, and search my lodgings for that paper."

"The necessity is painful," said Nighthawk.

"It is useless, my friend."

"I will try it."

Swartz smiled, and drew a paper from his pocket, which he unfolded.

"You are then determined to arrest your old comrade, Nighthawk."

"Yes, my dear Swartz."

"As a spy?"

"Exactly."

"In spite of this?"

And Mr. Swartz held out the paper.

"Do me the favor to read this, colonel, and then oblige me by returning it."

I took the paper, and easily read it by moonlight. It contained the following words:--

"The bearer is employed on secret service, by the Confederate Government, and will not be molested."

The paper was signed by a personage of high position in the government, and was stamped with the seal of the department over which he presided.

There could be no doubt of the genuineness of the paper. The worthy Mr.

Swartz loomed up before me in the novel and unexpected light of a _Confederate_ emissary!

I read the paper aloud to Nighthawk, and pointed to the official signature and seal.

Nighthawk uttered a groan, and his chin sank upon his breast.

That spectacle seemed to excite the sympathy of his friend.

"There, my dear Nighthawk," said Mr. Swartz, in a feeling tone, "don't take the blow too much to heart. I have beaten you, this game, and your hands are tied at present. But I swear that I will meet you, and produce that paper."

"When?" murmured Nighthawk.

"In three days from this time."

"Where?"

"At the house of our friend Alibi, near Monk's Neck, in Dinwiddie."

"On your word?"