The play so absorbed the soldiers, lawgivers, and law-administrators,
that our presence was unperceived. My friend, Mr. Blocque, did not turn
his head; Mr. Croker, Mr. Torpedo, and Colonel Desperade, were red in
the face and oblivious.
After that evening I knew where some of the public money went.
As I was looking at the strange scene of reckless excitement, one of
the players, a portly individual with black mustache, rich dark curls,
gold spectacles, and wearing a fine suit of broadcloth--rose and looked
toward us. Nighthawk was already gazing at him; and suddenly I saw
their glances cross like steel rapiers. They had evidently recognized
each other; and going up to the gentleman of the spectacles, Nighthawk
said a few words in a low voice, which I did not distinguish.
"With pleasure, my dear friend," said the portly gentleman, "but you
are sure you are not provided with a detective of General Winder's?"
"Can you believe such a thing?" returned Nighthawk, reproachfully.
"I thought it possible you might have one waiting below; but if you
give me your word, Nighthawk--"
And without further objection the worthy followed Nighthawk and myself
down the stairs.
As we approached the outer door, the invisible janitor opened it; we
issued forth into the street; and the portly gentleman, fixing a keen
look upon me in the clear moonlight, said:--
"I believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before, colonel.
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