De Hauteroche stood before me in an appealing attitude, and with wild
impatience in his looks. I felt that I was going to give him supreme
happiness--to fill his cup of bliss to the very brim. I had long ere
this fathomed the secret of his heart, and I knew that he loved Olympe
with a passionate ardour that he could scarcely conceal. His last visit
to Saint Louis had settled that point, and though it was doubtful
whether the young girl was, at the time, sufficiently forward to have
felt the passion of love, I had discovered some traces of a certain
tender regard she had exhibited towards him I had no doubt that she
would love him--almost at sight: for to say nothing of the direction
which had been given to her thoughts--both parents carefully guiding her
affections in the one particular channel--there were other circumstances
that would favour this result. Luis De Hauteroche was by far the
handsomest gentleman she had ever seen--handsome as well as highly
accomplished--and I knew that no pains had been spared to impress Olympe
with this idea. He was almost certain to be beloved by her.
Concealment of what I knew, was no longer required of me. My promise to
Madame Dardonville was simply to keep silent, until the letter had
spoken for itself. It was clear, however, that the letter had
miscarried; and it therefore became a necessity that I should declare
its contents. I rather joyed at thus having it in my power to make my
friend happy; and I hastened to perform the pleasant duty.
In brief detail I made known to him the nature of the ex-merchant's
will--that part of it relating to his daughter and to Luis himself.
Joy overspread the young man's countenance as he listened; and my
repetition of those interesting conditions was interrupted only by
expressions of gratitude and delight.
For the rest, I knew not the precise contents of Madame Dardonville's
letter. These could only be guessed at; but the communication just now
received was a good key to that which had been lost.
"What matter," added I, "about the other having gone astray? It is
certainly not very agreeable that some post-office peeper should get
such an insight into one's family affairs; but after all, it's only a
_copy_ of the will that has been lost."
"Oh! the will; I care nothing for that, Monsieur--not even if it were
the original--the will of Olympe alone concerns me."
"And that I promise will be also in your favour."
"_Merci_, Monsieur, what a true friend you have proved! How fortunate I
should have resembled Monsieur Despard! Ha! ha!"
I almost echoed the reflection--for that resemblance had been the means
of introducing me to Adele.
"But come, Monsieur De Hauteroche! the letter of Madame Dardonville
requires attention. You must answer the demand. You are expected in
Saint Louis, to bring the ladies down to New Orleans. If I mistake not
the _Sultana_ leaves here this very evening; you must go by her."
"And you will go with me? You perceive, Monsieur, you are invited."
"And M'amselle De Hauteroche?"
"Oh! certainly. Adele will go too. In truth, my sister has not
travelled much of late. She has only been once to Saint Louis since
papa's death. I am sure she will enjoy the trip exceedingly. And you
will go, then?"
"Willingly. Your sister will need time for preparation. Shall we
proceed to the Rue de Bourgogne?"
"_Allons_! on our way we can call at the post-office. Perhaps the
missing letter is still lying there--we may yet recover it."
"It can matter little now, I fancy; but there is no harm in trying."
I had not much hope of success. Something whispered to me that the
document was gone from the post-office, and had fallen into other hands:
though of what use could it be to any one? Perhaps it had been detained
by some one, in the expectation that it contained an enclosure of
money--an occurrence which the loose arrangements of the American
post-office rendered by no means uncommon.
I was now more than ever convinced of the correctness of my first
impressions. On that morning when I visited the post-office, a letter
for De Hauteroche had been asked for and taken out; and as he now
informed me that he had received no letter, nor did he remember having
sent any one to the office on that particular day--there was but one
conclusion to be drawn. Some one, unauthorised by him, had obtained the
letter--no doubt the very one in question.
The coincidence of Despard's presence--for it must have been he whom I
had mistaken for De Hauteroche--led me to other misgivings. I had not
seen the person who made inquiry for the letter--the files of men in
front preventing me--but judging by the time at which the _spoilsman_
passed out at the exit end of the slip, he must have been near the
delivery-window when the inquiry was made. These circumstances, taken
in connection with what I already knew of this person, naturally led me
to the conclusion that De Hauteroche's letter had fallen into his hands.
His motive for such a vile act I could only guess at. The hope of
obtaining money, perhaps--though there might appear but slight
probability of that. In truth, the affair was sufficiently
inexplicable; and neither De Hauteroche nor I could arrive at any
definite resolution of it at the time.
On our arriving at the post-office, a gleam of light was thrown upon the
transaction.
"Has there been any letter addressed to Monsieur Luis De Hauteroche?"
The inquiry referred to a date of some days anterior.
The clerk could not answer that--indeed the question was rather an idle
one. Of course, amidst the thousands of letters delivered by the
official, it would have been miraculous in him to have remembered a
particular one. He had no recollection of such a letter being
delivered; and there was none for the address lying in the office.
"Stay--there _is_ a letter that has just come in by an extra mail, for
`Monsieur Luis De Hauteroche.'"
My friend eagerly grasped the document--the more eagerly that he saw
upon it the stamp of the Saint Louis post-office! It was scarcely large
enough to contain the copy of a will. It could hardly be that of which
we were in search.
It proved not to be that, but a document of a very different character.
It read thus:
"_Monsieur,--The 1,000 dolls, cheque transmitted to you upon the
Planters' Bank of New Orleans, by a mistake of one of our clerics, was
not crossed. It has been paid by the Bank and returned. We are anxious
to know if it reached your hands safely. Please state by return mail_.
"_Gardette and Co_,
"_Bankers_,
"_Saint Louis_,
"_Mi_."
"Mystery of mysteries, Monsieur!" exclaimed De Hauteroche, gasping for
breath, as he thrust the letter into my hands. "What can all this mean?
I know of no thousand dollars. Never received a cheque--never expected
one--know of no one in Saint Louis who should have sent it, nor for what
purpose! Ho! there must be a mistake. This is not for me."
And the speaker once more referred to the envelope. But the address was
full and complete:--
"_Monsieur Luis De Hauteroche_,
"_Avocat_,
"_16, Rue Royale_,
"New Orleans."
There was no other Luis De Hauteroche--no other avocat of the name.
Undoubtedly the letter was for him--however little he understood its
contents.
I was less puzzled than he. A gleam, or rather a flood of light, was
let in upon the mysterious transaction, which to me was no longer a
mystery. Whence had come the cheque I could not tell I could only
surmise; and my surmise pointed to the hand of the generous widow of
Dardonville. Where it had gone was unfortunately less doubtful,--for
the fingers of the _chevalier d'industrie_ were easily recognisable
here. Beyond a doubt, Monsieur Despard had got the cheque; and this
would account for his after inquiry at the post-office, that led to his
obtaining the letter with the will. He had watched the arrival of the
mails from Saint Louis, and obtained such letters as were addressed to
De Hauteroche. Why he had done this at first, it would be difficult to
say; but afterwards--after obtaining the money--his object would be to
prevent the young lawyer from knowing it, until he could get out of the
way.
In all likelihood he was now beyond reach either of accusation or
conviction. The two letters which had just come to hand were of
themselves evidence, that in all likelihood he was no longer near.
De Hauteroche was furious--half frantic when I imparted to him my
convictions; for, although the source whence the 1,000 dollars had come,
was still a mystery to him, yet there was the proof of its having been
sent, and the presumption of its having been stolen.
The New Orleans police were at once put in charge of the matter; and, as
no communication could possibly reach Saint Louis sooner than by the
_Sultana_, it was resolved that we ourselves should be the bearers of
the answer, and call upon the banking-house of Gardette and Co, the
moment we arrived in that city.
Detectives were set upon the search for Despard, but of course only as
spies--since as yet we could allege nothing stronger than suspicion
against him. The _espionage_, however, was likely to prove
unsuccessful: for up to the hour of the _Sultana's_ leaving--which
occurred just at sunset--the sportsman's whereabouts had not been
ascertained; and the detectives, in quaint phraseology, declared their
belief that the "gentleman was G.T.T." (Gone To Texas).
Story 2, Chapter XII.