“There he is,” said Mohun, as hoof-strokes were heard without. “He is punctual.”
XXVIII. — THE SPY.
A moment afterward we heard the new-comer dismount. Then his steps were heard on the small porch. All at once his figure appeared in the doorway.
It was Swartz. The fat person, the small eyes, the immense double chin, and the chubby fingers covered with pinchbeck rings, were unmistakable.
He was clad in citizens’ clothes, and covered with dust as from a long ride.
Mohun rose.
“Come in, my dear Mr. Swartz,” he said coolly; “you see we await you.”
The spy recoiled. It was plain that he was astonished beyond measure at seeing us. He threw a glance behind him in the direction of his horse, and seemed about to fly.