“Which Swartz has?”
“Precisely, colonel.”
“And which he stole from the papers of Colonel Darke on the night of Mohun’s combat with Darke, in the house near Carlisle?”
Mr. Nighthawk looked keenly at me, in turn.
“Ah! you know that!” he said, quickly.
“I saw him steal it, through the window, while the woman’s back was turned.”
“I am deeply indebted to you, colonel,” said Mr. Nighthawk, gravely, “for informing me of this fact, which, I assure you, is important. Swartz swore to me that he had the paper, and had procured it in that manner, but I doubted seriously whether he was not deceiving me. He is a very consummate rascal, knows the value of that document, and my appointment with him to-night is with an eye to its purchase from him.”
“Do you think he will come?”
“I think so. He would sell his soul for gold.”
“And that woman? he seems to be her friend.”