Matters had now assumed a really serious aspect, and I resolved to call at once upon my particular friend, Mr. Theodore Sinivate; for I knew that here at least I should get something like definite information.

“Smith?” said he, in his well-known peculiar way of drawling out his syllables; “Smith? — why, not General John A. B. C.?  Savage affair that with the Kickapo-o-o-os, wasn’t it?  Say! don’t you think so? — perfect despera-a-ado — great pity, ’pon my honor! - wonderfully inventive age! — pro-o-odigies of valor!  By the by, did you ever hear about Captain Ma-a-a-a-n?”

“Captain Mann be d—­d!” said I; “please to go on with your story.”

“Hem! — oh well! — quite la même cho-o-ose, as we say in France.  Smith, eh?  Brigadier-General John A. B. C.?  I say” — [here Mr. S. thought proper to put his finger to the side of his nose] — “I say, you don’t mean to insinuate now, really and truly, and conscientiously, that you don’t know all about that affair of Smith’s, as well as I do, eh?  Smith?  John A-B-C.?  Why, bless me, he’s the ma-a-an” —–­

“Mr.  Sinivate,” said I, imploringly, “is he the man in the mask?”

    “No-o-o!” said he, looking wise, “nor the man in the mo-o-on.”

This reply I considered a pointed and positive insult, and so left the house at once in high dudgeon, with a firm resolve to call my friend, Mr. Sinivate, to a speedy account for his ungentlemanly conduct and ill-breeding.

In the meantime, however, I had no notion of being thwarted touching the information I desired.  There was one resource left me yet.  I would go to the fountain-head.  I would call forthwith upon the General himself, and demand, in explicit terms, a solution of this abominable piece of mystery.  Here, at least, there should be no chance for equivocation.  I would be plain, positive, peremptory — as short as pie-crust — as concise as Tacitus or Montesquieu.

It was early when I called, and the General was dressing; but I pleaded urgent business, and was shown at once into his bed-room by an old negro valet, who remained in attendance during my visit.  As I entered the chamber, I looked about, of course, for the occupant, but did not immediately perceive him.  There was a large and exceedingly odd-looking bundle of something which lay close by my feet on the floor, and, as I was not in the best humor in the world, I gave it a kick out of the way.

“Hem! ahem! rather civil that, I should say!” said the bundle, in one of the smallest, and altogether the funniest little voices, between a squeak and a whistle, that I ever heard in all the days of my existence.

    “Ahem! rather civil that, I should observe.”

I fairly shouted with terror, and made off, at a tangent, into the farthest extremity of the room.

“God bless me! my dear fellow,” here again whistled the bundle, “what — what — what — why, what is the matter?  I really believe you don’t know me at all.”