"What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the
brandy-bottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. "It is time!"

"For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes.

"For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols
from his pockets.

"Ready!" answered Smith, shaking himself, and producing a similar pair
of weapons.

"In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood.

"Be still, and you'll receive no injury," returned Jackson. "We're
merely about to discharge our duty by apprehending a rebel. Captain
Kneebone! we must trouble you to accompany us."

"I've no intention of stirring," replied the woollen-draper, who was
thus unceremoniously disturbed: "and I beg you'll sit down, Mr.
Jackson."

"Come, Sir!" thundered the latter, "no trifling! Perhaps," he added,
opening a warrant, "you'll obey this mandate?"

"A warrant!" ejaculated Kneebone, starting to his feet.

"Ay, Sir, from the Secretary of State, for _your_ arrest! You're charged
with high-treason."

"By those who've conspired with me?"