“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.”