"Watching?"
"And waiting."
"Waiting for whom?"
"For a lady with whom you have the honor of being acquainted."
"A lady--?"
"That one you last saw in the lonely house near Monk's Neck. Hush! here
she comes."
His voice had sunk to a whisper, and he drew me into the shrubbery, as
a long bar of light, issuing from the door in the rear of the house,
ran out into the night.
"I am going to follow her," whispered Nighthawk, placing his lips close
to my ear, "she is at her devil's work here in Richmond, as Swartz
was--."
Suddenly he was silent; a light step was heard. A form approached us,
passed by. I could see that it was a woman, wrapped from head to foot
in a gray cloak.
She passed so close to us that the skirt of her cloak nearly brushed
our persons, and disappeared toward the gate. The iron latch was heard
to click, the door of the carriage to open and close, and then the
vehicle began to move.
Nighthawk took two quick steps in the direction of the gate.
"I am going to follow the carriage, colonel," he whispered. "I have
been waiting here to do so. I will tell you more another time. Give my
respects to General Mohun, and tell him I am on his business!"
With which words Nighthawk glided into the darkness--passed through the
gate without sound from the latch--and running noiselessly, disappeared
on the track of the carriage.
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