University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.
MORE MYSTERY.

We now found ourselves in a large
room, poorly lighted, poorly furnished,
and strong with the fumes of tobacco.
In one corner was a pantry-like bar,
with a few shelves along the wall, garnished
with bottles and tumblers, and a
wooden grating in front, a portion of

which belonged to the door opening
into it. There were three or four small
tables standing along the wall farthest
from the door, and at two of these, on
stools and benches, sat some half-a-dozen
rough-looking fellows, playing cards by
the light of two tallow candles. They
all looked up on our entrance, and
stared at us a moment or two; and
then, as the majority resumed their
games, one of their number arose, and
handing his cards to his nearest companion,
said:

“Here, Bill, take my hand;” and
he added something in a whisper. He
then advanced to us, and continued:
“Good-evening, gents; travellers, I
reckon?”

“Yes,” I answered—“pedlers, who
wish to get a night's lodging.”

“Well, I can 'commodate you, expect,”
replied the landlord, for such the
speaker was, as he took a rather close
survey of our persons.—“Want supper,
'spose?”

“No, we dined rather rate, and having
none too much money, must try
and get along without the expense of
another meal,” I replied.

Again the host—who was a stout,
heavily-built man, of about forty, with
black hair and beard, large bushy eyebrows,
that met at the line of the nose,
and a countenance otherwise strongly
marked—examined us with an air of
some curiosity, and then rejoined, pointing
to Tom:

“This nigger—is he a pedler, too?”

“No, he merely carries our boxes.”

“Wall, must say you travel rayther
stiff, to be so short of the rhino.”

“If we pay for all we call for, I suppose
that is nobody's business but our
own,” I replied, a little sharply, beginning
to grow indignant at what I considered
a species of insolence.

“Oh, certainly,” replied the host,
with a confused laugh: “meant no
harm, stranger.—You're right—nobody's
business. Come, sit down;” and
he pointed to some vacant benches
near. “Shall I take care of your
boxes for you?”

“No, thank you—will not put you
to that trouble—Tom can do that, for
that is alll he has to do,” replied I, carelessly.

“Wall, please yourselves, gents. If
you don't want any thing, why I'll just
finish my hand. By-the-bye, would
you like a game to yourselves?—plenty
of cards.”

“No, I never play,” I replied.

“Sometime, monsieur, I was play in
Nouvelle Orlean,” now spoke Harley
for the first time; “and I lose six, ten,
seven dollare; and by gar! I play no
not agin, nevare.”

“A cheap bought experience, my
French friend,” said the host, with a
laugh; and he returned to the table and
resumed his game.

The company seemed in good spirits—for
they laughed, cracked rough
jokes, swore some, drank, smoked, and
continued playing, paying no attention
to us beyond a glance now and then,
such as frequenters of bar-rooms of a
like character to this usually bestow
upon strangers. We sat and watched
them for about an hour, when I signified
to the landlord that we would retire
for the night.

“Sleep together?” he inquired.

“Yes; and if you have something to
throw on the floor, Tom will occupy
the same apartment.”

The host called a drowsy-looking
negro, handed him a light, gave him
some private instructions, and bade us
follow him. We quitted the room by a
flight of stairs at the end opposite the
players; and as I looked back, I saw
the whole company, the host not excepted,
busy with their cards. No one
seemed to think it worth his while to
look after us; and this, I must confess,
lessened my uneasiness, and lightened
my suspicions. Still, I by no means
felt satisfied that all was right. I did
not altogether like the looks of the persons
here assembled; and I could not
divest myself of the idea, that they had
a motive in meeting here, so many of
them, beyond the mere excitement of
playing cards. Had there been dwell
ings along the road in the immediate
vicinity, I should have thought less of

it; but unless they lived here, which
was not probable, they must have come
from a distance.

Thus I reflected, as we followed our
black guide up the stairs. We entered
a large apartment, which ran along the
front of the house, over the bar-room,
and whose only furniture consisted of
half-a-dozen squalid-looking beds, and
two or three benches. From this we
passed into another room of small dimensions,
which contained a decent
looking bed, a small mirror, a washstand,
a tin basin, a towel, and a couple
of old, rickety chairs. The black put
down the light, and going into the other
room, returned with a dirty-looking
matrass, which he threw on the floor
for Tom. He then inquired if we
wished for anything more; and being
answered in the negative, groped his
way down stairs, leaving us to ourselves.
We closed the door, and saw
that its only fastening was an iron
latch.

“Well, Harry, what do you think
of it?” inquired my friend in a whisper.

“I cannot say I am very well pleased
—but I think they meditate no harm to
us.”

“I agree with you, Harry—but also
think it best to be on our guard. We
must not all sleep at the same time, and
this door must be fastened by placing
the bed against it. And now let us examine
the room closely.”

We did so—ceiling, walls, and floor,
—no part, not even a crack, escaping a
keen scrutiny. But save that the window
was not large enough to allow a
person to jump out—and that the partition,
in which the door was hung, did
not quite reach to the ceiling above—we
discovered nothing calculated to increase
our uneasiness or suspicion. I now
opened the door, and setting the candle
behind it, peered into the larger
apartment. There were two windows
in front, next to the road, and one of
these was just sufficiently open to admit
the gentle play of a cool, pleasant night-breeze.
I took off my boots, advanced
to it softly, and looked out. It was
dark, very dark; but I could see a few
of the brighter stars through a hazy atmosphere,
and all around appeared quiet,
as if nature were taking a calm repose
—not even the howl of a wolf, or the
hoot of an owl, broke the stillness—nothing,
in fact, but the voices and occasional
laughter of the persons below.
Chancing to cast my eyes to the ceiling.
I perceived a spot of light thereon, about
the size of a dollar. I naturally looked
down to find its source, and saw it
came through a knot-hole in the floor.
With great care, lest my feet should be
heard, I approached this, and placing
my eye to it, had a full view of the
party underneath. They were still intent
on their games as when I left
them; and after watching them a few
minutes, I returned to my room, and reported
to Harley what I had seen.

“Well,” he replied in a whisper,
“this confirms me in my belief, that we
have nothing to fear; but a little extra
caution can do us no harm. Come, let
us place the bed and turn in.”

We were on the point of doing so,
when we heard a clattering sound, as of
a horse coming at full speed. We listened.
It drew nearer and nearer, and
in less than three minutes seemed to
halt at the door. I hastened to the
window, and was just in time to see a
figure spring from its back, and advance
quickly toward the house. I hurried to
the aperture in the floor, and though I
could not see him enter, I saw him a
moment after, approaching the tables
where the players sat. His step was
quick and elastic, and his bearing lordly.
He wore a kind of blue uniform,
and had a black mask on his face. His
person was instantly recognized, and I
was struck with the deference which
all paid him. Each man rose to his
feet, threw down his cards, and uttering
the single word “Captain,”
stood in respectful silence till addressed.

“Any strangers here, Mike?” inquired
the new-comer of the landlord,
in a rapid tone, with a strong foreign
accent.

“Two pedlers and a nigger, but
they're gone to bed,” was the answer.

The new-comer now removed his
mask and I saw that he was a rather
good-looking gentleman of five-and-thirty,
with a moustache on his lip, fine,
sharp, pale features, and eyes black,
sparkling, and intense.

“I want another horse, Mike,” he
continued; “the best blood you have,
and a hasty lunch. In ten minutes I
must be on the road, for I intend to reach
home by sunrise.”

“It's a long journey, Cap'en, to be
got over in that time; but Black Bess
can do her part to Ned Long's; and
that's a cool twenty-five miles; and
thar you must git another critter to take
you through your Ville. I believe
one animal can do it from thar—though
it's been so long since I rid it, I most
forgit.”

“You are right; but you forget something
else—the horse and lunch.”

“In a twinkling, Cap'en;” and the
landlord withdrew in haste, to execute
his orders.

“Well, my good fellows,” continued
the Captain, (as for convenience I will
call him,) “What success with the last?
good—eh?”

“Yes, Cap'en: yes, your honor,”
answered all at once.

“No trouble in sliding now, eh?”

“Goes easy, Cap'en.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Why,” answered one, “we're just
on our way out, and thought we'd stop
and have a jolly parting cup with old
Mike.”

“Well, right; you deserve to enjoy
yourselves. But (in a lower tone) these
pedlers—did you trade?”

“Didn't try, Cap'en, too near home.”

“Ah! yes—a good idea—it is as
well. They suspect nothing, eh?”

“If I thought they did, I'd—”

“No, no, Bill—none of that: do nothing
rash, for so slight a cause; there
are always cases enough of necessity.
Were they proving troublesome, then—”
and the Cap'en ended by laying his finger
on his lips.

Here the landlord returned, and the
Captain withdrew with him, first telling
the others to resume their games, which
they did. About five minutes after, the
front door opened, and a negro, thrusting
his head in, said:

“Hoss ready for gemman.”

Soon after I heard the Captain say:

“Good night, friends, and have a
care.”

“Good-night, Cap'en! Good-night,
your honor! Long life to ye!” were
the several replies.

I now heard the door open, and hastened
to the window. Harley was already
there.

“Ha, ha, ha!” we heard the host
laugh: “she's coy, Cap'en, I know—
I seen it; and she's got speret too—
but she'll tame powerful under your
hands.”

“I bring a little experience to the
trial,” laughed the other; “and I have
a way of my own in such matters. But
remember, not a word to the others.”

“Oh, trust me! I'm nobody's fool,
no!”

“Well, au revoir! I ride to beauty's
bower,” rejoined the other; and mounting
a horse held by the negro, he added:
“Next time, Mike, I hope to tell
you more;” and, with the last word,
he touched the fiery beast with his
spur, and was instantly lost in the
darkness, speeding away like an arrow.

I felt a pressure on my arm: and
turning to Harley, I became aware that
he was in a fainting condition. Placing
an arm around his waist, I raised and
bore him to our room, laid him on the
bed, and wet his forehead with cold
water. In a minute or so he revived,
and sat up, supporting himself against
my shoulder.

“My dear fellow,” I whispered, for
I did not care to speak aloud, “what is
the matter? Are you ill?”

“I am better now, thank you,” he
whispered in reply. “I did feel ill for the
moment—intense and painful thought
seemed to make my brain dizzy. Harry,
tell me, candidly, am I a fool, or am I
not?”

“Why such a question, my friend?”

“Because I am unaccountably impressed
with the idea, that he who just
now rode away is Count D'Estang.”

“Then if that make you a fool, I am
another, for I am of the same opinion,
though I can give no good and sufficient
reason therefor.”

“Ah! I felt it in my soul, as one
feels a barb in his flesh. Harry, tell me
not that the human mind possesses not
that faculty called instinct. We do have
it; and it is mightier than reason, and
surer than thought. Tell me what you
saw and heard.”

I did so.

“That word `Ville,' strengthens me
in my suspicion,” he said, as I repeated
the language of the host.

“It first excited mine,” I replied.

“What does he here? and what
means his connection with these men?
Oh, that the morrow were come! The
plot thickens, Harry; and if it go on
thus to the end, we shall make ourselves
heroes of a living romance. Oh,
Viola! Viola! would I were with thee,
to guard thee from peril, or perish in
thy defence! Heaven help me! I shall
sleep none to-night. Sleep you, Harry:
I will watch. Oh, that the morrow
were come! I am miserable.”

Thus Harley went on for some five
or ten minutes, when he grew calmer,
and began to tell me over his plans with
regard to her he loved. I was fatigued
and drowsy; and getting the bedstead
moved against the door, I turned in, and
was soon fast asleep—the monotonous
whispering of my friend being the last
sound I heard.

He talked of Viola St. Auburn—I
dreamed of Clara Moreland.