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Updated: May 1, 2025
But some night we hear the whirr of the nighthawk's wings as he drops rapidly from a great height, or we see him skimming close to the surface of the stream in search of insects in some twilight hour and then he is the embodiment of strength, agility, and swiftness.
That name, which General Davenant's recent narrative had surrounded with so many gloomy associations, produced a profound effect on me, as it now escaped from this man's lips; and had it not been for Nighthawk's warning pressure on my arm, I should probably have betrayed our vicinity.
I informed him of Nighthawk's visit and narrative, congratulated him on his escape, and then presented him with his appointment to the grade of brigadier-general. "Hurrah for Stuart! He is a man to count on!" exclaimed Mohun, "and here inclosed is the order for me to take command of four regiments!" "I congratulate you, Mohun."
And drawing me toward him, he pointed through a crack in the board partition, which separated the passage from the apartment. Leaning on Nighthawk's shoulder, I placed my eye at the aperture. On a broken chair beside the three-legged table sat Darke, booted, spurred, and armed with pistol and sabre.
Mohun raised his head quickly, listened with the closest attention, and when I had informed him of every thing, said abruptly: "Well, I'll keep Nighthawk's appointment for him!" "You!" I said. "Yes, my dear Surry this is a matter of more importance than you think.
He had been struck by a bullet in the fight; had flapped his wings; cackled; tumbled from his horse; and expired. Nighthawk's visit thus went for nothing. Mr. Alibi was dead. I shall not dwell upon the evening and night spent at "Five Forks" upon whose threshold I was met and cordially greeted by the gray-haired Judge Conway.
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