"I have need of a particular kind of a man. It occurs to me you may be that kind--mm--a certain _variety_, perhaps, of talent. It's a bit of secret service. _Well_, now look here. It is this. The War Department wants private information about the actual effective _numbers_--if possible--and _condition_, of the enemy--at present. I will tell you more. The estimates that come to it from the commander-in-chief are--I quote the word--'_contradictory_.' It is _suspected_ that those estimates depend--I still quote--'on the _impression_ that gentleman wishes to make on the department or the public.' The suspicion may be wrong; or it may be that a change is going to be made in commanders; or, at _any rate_, 'before issuing a definite order to the present commander'--it needs information independent of the regular source. _Do_ you understand?" "So far as you've gone, sir." "Oh--mm--exactly. That's right. No doubt it is procuring other sources. That's no business of ours. I've been asked--_confidentially_--to furnish one source--mm--The impersonation of Dunker elders and generals of divisions implies--mm--also I know your record--mm--_Captain Windham_, I am at the present moment guilty of insubordination and treachery to my superior officer. I am also giving away what amounts perhaps to a state secret. I am doing so--for the reason--that your discretion must be relied on, anyway, and you cannot understand too clearly the point to be gained. This information must reach either _me_, or the _department_ directly--preferably the latter--and _no one else_. You see the point?" "Yes, sir." "Preferably the latter. I needn't be connected with it hereafter--would rather not be." "I see." "Very good. This information should be had as soon as possible. In case you have to send a _message_, this paper contains a code, simple enough. The meaning depends on the position of the words. You can apparently mean anything you choose. Learn, and destroy paper. So much for _that_. Your name will be known at the department. You are at your own disposition till the thing is done. There are no directions. Now--one moment--this map. Lee and Longstreet are probably here. Somebody is, anyway. Jackson is God knows where--possibly there. If so, he'll be somewhere else to-morrow. Here's your pass. Any questions?" "No, sir." "That's all, then. You may go--mm--Captain Windham--some time I should like to see the impersonation of a general of division in a state of excitement. Hem! hem! Good-day, sir." Gard galloped through the little village in the dusk, looking for Mavering, and found the fields beyond empty. The brigade was gone, the Third gone with it. "I can't chase after him all night," he thought, impatiently. "Why doesn't he stay where he'd be useful?" He caught sight of a horse fastened to a maple-tree up the road. Mavering lay on his back under the maple, smoking. "Get up. Come along." "This cigar is the worst--" "Get on your horse. I want you."