Nighthawk rose, went to the door, and caught Mr. Alibi eavesdropping—the result of which was that the penguin hastily moved off, muttering. In a minute he had shambled along and disappeared.
No sooner had his figure vanished than Nighthawk turned hastily toward me.
“Will you go with me to-night, colonel, on an expedition I intend to make?” he said.
“An expedition, Nighthawk?”
“A work of mercy, colonel; let us talk quickly. That man, Alibi, is a spy—for both sides—and I wish to arrange every thing before he returns.”
“Explain, Nighthawk.”
“I will, colonel. Do you remember that night in Richmond, when Swartz made an appointment to meet me at a house near Monk’s Neck?”
“Perfectly.”
“Well, this is the house,—and I expected important results from that meeting. Unfortunately, I was prevented, by some pickets who arrested me, from reaching this spot on the appointed day. I was here two days afterward, however—asked for Swartz—he had not been here—and as that was the most unaccountable thing in the world to me, I set out to find him.”
“In the enemy’s lines?”