“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.”