Monsieur Jacques Despard,
9, _Rue Dauphin_.
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Such was the little memento that met my eyes as I entered Casey's
sleeping apartment, at an early hour in the morning. It lay upon his
dressing-table--a sorry substitute for the "twenty guinea repeater" that
should have been found there.
My friend was still in the land of dreams. I was loth to awake him to
the unpleasant reality which that tiny piece of pasteboard would
naturally suggest; for, besides being in itself a symbol of grave
import, it would be certain to recall to poor Casey the remembrance of
his loss, to whom, being no Croesus, it was a serious one.
In reality he so regarded it; and, when awakened at length, and
conscious of what had transpired on the preceding night, he expressed
far more concern about the loss he had sustained, than about the
expected encounter. The latter he treated as a ridiculous joke--
laughing at it as he pitched the card upon the floor.
"Stay!" said he, picking it up, and carefully placing it in his
pocket-book. "It _might_ be the fellow's real name and address. If so,
it will enable me to find him again; and, by Jaysus, I'll have that
watch, or take the worth of it out of his hide. Hang it, man!--it's a
family piece--got our crest on it--has been in the family ever since
repeaters came into fashion. Yes, I'll take the worth of it out of his
hide! But that's not possible--the whole of his yellow skin isn't worth
that watch!"
And so talked Casey, while he performed his toilet as coolly as if he
were dressing for a dinner party, instead of preparing himself for what
might prove a deadly encounter.
Pistols we had decided it should be. Casey, expecting to be the
challenged party, would, of course, be entitled to the choice of
weapons. Had it been otherwise, my friend would have been in a bit of a
dilemma; for, as he assured me, he had never taken a fencing lesson in
his life; and it is notorious that the Creoles of New Orleans are
skilled in the use of the small-sword. Some friendly strangers, after
the exchange of cards on the preceding night, had made us aware of this
fact, at the same time warning us that Casey's intended antagonist, whom
they knew, was a noted swordsman. Swords, then, were not to be thought
of.
Of course, as the party to be challenged, our duty was to stay at home
(at the Hotel) until we should hear from the challenger. For my part, I
did not anticipate there would be much delay; and I gave orders for a
hurried breakfast.
"Faith! you may take your time about it," said Casey to the retiring
waiter. "There's no need to spoil the meal. Never fear--we'll eat our
breakfast without being interrupted."
"Nonsense! the friend of Monsieur Despard will be here in ten minutes."
"No--nor in ten hours nayther. You'll ate your dinner without seeing
either Misther Despard or his friend."
"Why do you think so?"
"Bah.--Is it a thief send a challenge to a gentleman? All blarney and
brag! I tell you the fellow's a thief--he has got my watch, bad luck to
him!--and he thinks the givin' of the card a ready way to get out of the
scrape: that's the maning of it. We'll never set eyes on him again,
barrin' we go after him."
I was at first disposed to ridicule this logic; but, as time passed, I
began to think there was some truth in it. We waited for breakfast
being prepared, and then ate it in the most leisurely manner. As Casey
had predicted, no one interrupted us at the meal; no visitor was
announced--no card came in. I had already given rigorous orders to the
clerk of the Hotel to forward any application on the instant.
The hour of ten arrived, but no communication from "Monsieur Jacques
Despard."
"Perhaps he is hunting up a friend?" I suggested. "We must give him
time."
Eleven o'clock.
"Let's have a sherry cobbler!" proposed Casey; "we'll have plenty of
time to drink it."
A couple of those magnificent "sherry cobblers," for which the Saint
Charles is world renowned, were immediately ordered up; and we passed
the better half of an hour with the straw between our lips.
Twelve o'clock. Still no Despard--no friend--no challenge!
"I told you so," said Casey, not triumphantly, but rather in a tone of
despondence. "This card's good for nothing," he continued, taking the
piece of pasteboard from his pocket, and holding it up before his eyes;
"a regular sham, I suspect, like the fellow himself--a false name and
address--you see it's in pencil? Ah, mother o' Moses! I'll never see
that watch again! Sure enough," continued he, after a pause, "the
name's in print--he's gone to the expense of having that engraved, or
somebody has for him, which is more likely.--No!--he won't come to
time."
"We must remain at home till dinner. Perhaps they keep late hours
here."
"Late or early, we won't see Misther Despard till we go after him; an'
by gorra!" cried Casey, striking the table in a most violent manner,
"that's what I mane to do. A man don't point a pistol at my head,
without giving me a chance to return the compliment; and I'm bound to
have another try for that watch."
From Casey's earnest speech and manner, I saw that he was resolved; and
I knew enough of him to be aware that he was a man of strong resolution.
Whether a challenge came or not, he was determined that the affair
should not drop, till he had some kind of revenge upon Jacques Despard,
or, if no such person existed, upon the "swell" who had stolen his
repeater.
It certainly appeared as if the card _was_ a sham: for the dinner hour
came, and no one had acknowledged it.
We descended, and ate our dinner at the general _table d'hote_--such a
dinner as can be obtained only in the luxurious hostelrie of the Saint
Charles.
We sat over our wine till eight o'clock; but although a few friends
joined us at the table, we heard nothing of a hostile visitor. Under
the influence of _Sillery_ and _Moet_, we for the time forgot the
unpleasant incidents of the preceding night.
For my part, I should have been glad to have forgotten them altogether,
or at all events to have left the matter where it stood; and such was
the tenor of my counsels. But it proved of no avail: the fiery
Hibernian was determined, as he expressed it, to have his "whack" out:
he would either get back his watch or have a "pop" at the thief who
stole it.
So resolved was he on carrying out his intention, that I saw it was idle
to oppose him.
Certainly it was rather a singular affair; and now that a whole day had
passed without any communication from Monsieur Despard, I became more
than half convinced that Casey was right, and that the exquisite really
had committed the theft. It was his indignant repudiation of the charge
that had misled me; but Casey's constant and earnest asseveration--now
strengthened by the after circumstances of the false card, and the
failure to make an appearance--satisfied me that we had been in the
company of a sharper.
With this conviction I retired for the night, Casey warning me that he
should be with me at an early hour in the morning, in order to devise
what measures should be taken.
With regard to an early hour, he was too true to his promise. Before
six--long before I felt inclined to leave my comfortable bed--he was
with me.
He apologised for disturbing me so early, on the score of his being
without a watch, and could not tell the time; but I could perceive that
the jest was a melancholy one.
"What do you mean to do?"
"Why, to find Master Ruffleshirt, to be sure."
"Will you not give him an hour's grace? Perhaps he may send this
morning?"
"No chance whatever."
"It is possible he may have lost your card? Leave it alone till we have
had breakfast."
"Lost my card? No. Besides, he might easily have got over that
difficulty. He knew we were on our way to this hotel. Don't all the
world come here? No; that isn't the fellow's excuse, and I shan't eat
till I know what is. So, rouse up, my boy! and come along."
"But where are you going?"
"Number noine, Rue Daw--daw--hang his scribble! Daw--phin, I believe."