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 document in which he is interested; you fancy I have that document 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 document, 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.”