“You are friends, then?”
“Close friends.”
And Mr. Nighthawk smiled.
“We have an agreement—but that would not interest you, general. That was really Swartz, and the old woman was the prisoner.”
“Well,” said Stuart, “that was a bold stroke, but the lady was handsome enough to make friends. There is something between herself and Colonel Mohun, is there not?”
Mr. Nighthawk glanced quickly at the face of the general. His eyes resembled steel points, but the piercing glance at once sank.
“Something between them, general? What could have made you think that? But here is Major McClellan. I will not detain you, general; I will come back at daylight to receive your orders.”
With these words, Mr. Nighthawk distributed a benignant smile, bowed in a friendly manner, and disappeared, it was difficult to say how, from the apartment. I had turned my eyes from him but an instant; when I again looked he was gone.
“And now to work!” exclaimed Stuart. “We are going to fight tomorrow, Surry, since the ‘man before the battle’ has made his appearance!”