When the worthy, who had flapped his arms, by way of greeting, and shown me into his mansion, informed me that such was his name, I knew that the house at which I now found myself was the place of meeting agreed upon between Nighthawk and Swartz, at their interview in Richmond. Here, also, the man and woman, rescued by Swartz on the Nottoway, had been left, on his way to Petersburg, as the spy had informed us in the Wilderness. “Well, general,” croaked Mr. Alibi, with a smile, and in a nasal voice, “wha--a--t’s the news?” “I am only a lieutenant-colonel, Mr. Alibi.” “Well, colonel, any thing stirring?” “Nothing, I think. Any news with you, Mr. Alibi? I have heard of you from a friend of yours.” “Eh! And who mout that be, colonel?” “Mr. Nighthawk. Have you seen him lately?” “Na--a--a--w,” said Mr. Alibi, with a prolonged drawl through his nose, and flapping his arms in an uncouth fashion, “I ain’t seen him for a long spell now.” “Nor Swartz, either?” Mr. Alibi looked keenly at me. “Na--a--a--w, nor him nuther, leftenant-colonel.” “Leave out the ‘leftenant,’ my dear Mr. Alibi; and call me ‘colonel’--it is shorter,” I said, laughing, as I looked at the queer figure. “And so you have not seen Swartz lately? He made an appointment to meet Nighthawk here.” “Made an app’intment, did he, leftenant--least ways, colonel?” “Yes.” “With Mr. Nighthawk?” “Yes.” “Well, I reckon they are both dead, or they’d ‘a’ kept their app’intment.” “Nighthawk dead!” “He must be, sartain.” “You are mistaken, friend Alibi,” said a voice behind him. And Nighthawk, in person, entered the house. XXVII. STARVATION. Nighthawk had appeared, as was his wont, as if he had risen from the earth. But this circumstance disappeared from my mind at once. I was looking at his face. It had completely lost its benignant expression; was pale, and bore marks of great fatigue. Something of the old clerical benignity came to the eyes as he greeted me cordially; but sitting down in the nearest chair, as though completely wearied out, he became as dispirited as before. “And what mout be the matter with you, Mr. Nighthawk?” said Mr. Alibi: “you look ‘s if the night hags had been a-riding of you with spurs on.” And Mr. Alibi flapped his wings, stretched out his neck, and seemed about to cackle. “I am tired, Alibi,” said Nighthawk, briefly, “go to the spring and get me some fresh water. You needn’t come back in a hurry, as I wish to talk with Colonel Surry.” And Mr. Nighthawk rose, and carelessly sat down near the window, through which he could reconnoitre. The object of this movement was soon evident. Mr. Alibi took a bucket, and went out as though to seek the spring. When he had gone a few paces, however, he turned to the right and disappeared behind the house, toward the opposite window, which was open.