“Well, perhaps I exaggerate danger. But I am on an important scouting expedition—wanted to reflect, and not be seen—I am going, to-night, through the lines on a little affair of which you know something.”
“Ah, what do you refer to?”
“That paper,” said Nighthawk, succinctly. “It is in the hands of Alibi—there is a Yankee picket at his house—but I am going to see him, and force him to surrender it.”
“Is it possible he has it! Do you know that?”
“Strangely enough, colonel. Do you remember that woman, Amanda?”
“Perfectly. I visited her with Mohun.”
“He told me of your visit. Well, you no doubt remember also, colonel, that he offered her a large sum to discover the paper—that she offered to try and find it, or give him a clue to its whereabouts—he was to return in ten days, and hear her report.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, he returned, colonel, but Amanda could tell him nothing—which you no doubt have heard.”
“Yes, from him.”