Through the half-closed venetians I could see into a large apartment,
half library, half sitting-room, as the easy chairs, mantel ornaments,
desks, and book-cases showed. On the centre-table burned a brilliant
lamp--and by its light I witnessed a spectacle which made me draw back
in the shadow of the shutter, and rivet my eyes on the interior.
Before me, in the illuminated apartment, I saw the woman whom Mohun had
captured on the Rappahannock; and beside her the personage with whom
she had escaped that morning in the wagon from Culpeper Court-House. I
could not mistake him. The large, prominent nose, the cunning eyes, the
double chin, the fat person, and the chubby hands covered with
pinchbeck rings, were still fresh in my memory.
The name of this personage had been revealed by Nighthawk. Swartz, the
secret agent, blockade-runner, and "best spy in the Federal army" was
before me.
A glance at the woman revealed no change in her appearance. Before me
was the same lithe and graceful figure, clad as before in a gray dress.
I saw the same snow-white cheeks, red lips, and large eyes burning with
a latent fire.
The two were busily engaged, and it was not difficult to understand
their occupation. The desks, drawers and chests of the apartment were
all open; and the female with rapid hands was transferring papers from
them to Swartz, who methodically packed them in a leathern valise.
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