_Wherein Mr. Livingston Receives an Invitation and Mr. Grymes Pays a
Social Call on a Pirate_
I
“Monsieur Livingston?”
“At your service, sir.”
The Creole bowed, his white teeth flashing in a deferential smile.
“I ’ave _l’honneur_ to be ze bearer _d’une lettre_—of a letter—wheech h’
I am to geeve to you een pairson, monsieur.” He bowed again.
Edward Livingston looked puzzled. The contraction of his brows became
more accentuated.
“A letter, for me?” he murmured. “Who can be sending me a letter by
messenger?”
The Creole rightly interpreted his perplexity.
“I come from ze Exchange een ze _Rue St. Louis_, sair, but ze lettaire,
she come from Grande Terre!”
“Grand Terre!”
“_Oui_, monsieur. I am a fr’en’ of Monsieur Lafitte, an’ I was at ze
Exchange when anozzer fr’en’ of our he approach me an’ geev me two
lettaires. I am sooprise a verry gred deal. Zen zis man sayce to me, he
sayce: ‘Ze _bosse_ want you to geeve zeze lettaires to Monsieur Grymes
an’ Monsieur Livingston ... _rapidement_ ... an’_moi_, you weel fin’ me
een ze Café de Chat Noir. H’I weel ‘wait an ansair.’ An’ zen zis fr’en’
goes off. So h’I take zese lettaires, one to Monsieur Grymes, and
_l’autre est ici_ ... ’ere ees ze ozzer.”
And the attorney’s caller handed Livingston a large letter addressed to
himself in the bold, graceful handwriting of Jean Lafitte, and sealed
with a great splotch of purple wax.
With a word or two of thanks, Livingston motioned the Creole to a seat
and rang for wine. Then he opened the letter and eagerly read the message.
As he read on, a look of surprise passed over his face, to be succeeded
by disappointment, astonishment, vexation, and finally thoughtfulness.
When he finished his perusal, he read it over again carefully, and then
stared thoughtfully into space.
At just this moment his negro butler entered the door.
“Mistuh Grymes, suh,” the darkey announced, “am in de hall. He sez hits
impawtant, suh.”
“Bring him right in, Joseph. But wait.” He reflected for a moment. “I’ll
see him in a moment. Take him to the drawing-room.”
Joseph bowed again, and was gone, noiselessly.
“Pardon me for a moment, sir. I’ll be right with you in a few minutes. I
believe that Mr. Grymes wishes to consult me on a matter connected with
the letters you so kindly brought. There may be an answer.”
“_Certainement_, monsieur.”
A moment later Livingston entered the drawing-room, there to find his
colleague pacing up and down, manifestly excited. In his hand was an
opened envelope sealed with a huge purple seal.
“Did you get a letter from Lafitte?” asked Grymes, abruptly. “Ah, there
it is in your hand. Well, what do you think of it?”
Livingston looked at him narrowly.
“What do _you_ think of it?” he asked. “I presume our letters are
practically the same.”
Grymes nodded.
“He invites me to that island—Grande Terre—to pay him and his friends a
visit and to come and get my fee!”
“Exactly. Mine is another invitation to the same effect.”
“Well, Livingston, what do you think of it?” The repetition seemed to
please him.
The other smiled wryly.
“Think of it? Personally, I think it is a rather unusual request. In
effect, Lafitte invites us to collect our fee—ostensibly.”
“What do you mean?” puzzled.
“Just this. Our piratical client invites us to come and get our
money—collect in person. In other words, to put ourselves right
into the hands of a horde of smugglers, pirates, slavers, and other
riff-raff—where our lives won’t be worth a minute’s purchase!”
Grymes stared at him for a moment.
“Do you mean to imply that Lafitte will go back on his word? That he will
let harm come to us, or perhaps cheat us out of our money?” he cried, in
astonishment.
The other pursed his lips.
“I imply nothing,” he said, “but only state this: If it had been the
honest intention of our client to pay us, he would have somehow sent the
money here, or had it transferred to us through one of the bankers on
Toulouse Street. In other words, I mistrust his offer.”
The Virginian looked at him blankly, and then burst into a roar of
laughter, as if bitten by the tarantula of mirth.
“May I inquire as to the cause of your levity?” asked Livingston,
exasperated, and secretly a little ashamed of his suspicions.
“Oh, Livingston, what a curse it is to lack a sense of humor!” cried
Grymes, cryptically. “Here you’ve just finished extolling the virtues of
Jean Lafitte to a jury, and yet you’re too cautious to trust him! And
after solemnly informing those twelve respectable men of his courage,
high sense of honor, ideals, square dealing, charitableness, and so
forth, making a saint out of that jolly smuggler, and perjuring yourself
like a gentleman, you have the consummate audacity to stand here and tell
me that you distrust your client—or words to that effect. Really, my dear
fellow, you are rather inconsistent, don’t you think?” He looked at the
discomfited attorney quizzically.
“Then I am to understand that you intend to—er—pay a social call on Mr.
Lafitte—you will accept?” asked Livingston, impassively.
“Will I accept? Will I?” cried the Virginian, joyfully. “I should _say
so_! I wouldn’t refuse it for anything!”
Livingston seemed somewhat taken aback at this.
“You mean—”
“I mean that I am going—at once, too! Lafitte says in my letter that he
has a boat here—the _Saucy Susan_, I believe—all ready to sail. When she
does you can rest assured I’ll be on board. I’ve already given orders
to pack a few clothes. I’m only sorry that I can’t see Jinny, but she’s
visiting Margaret Claiborne at their country place, so I’ll just leave
her a note....”
“But you are really going?”
“Of course! It’s the chance of a lifetime, man! I’ve always wanted to see
Grande Terre, I’ve heard so much of it, heretofore my official position
made it impossible for me to even entertain such a thought. But now ... I
should say I am going!” He chuckled and smacked his lips.
“And I mean to investigate that famous cellar of Lafitte’s, too. Of
course I wouldn’t like to lose the fee, but I trust Lafitte, anyway. He’s
a real gentleman, if there ever was one!”
Livingston paced up and down, his brows drawn together in thought. At
last he looked up.
“If you are set on going, Grymes,” he said, “I won’t try to dissuade you.
But I shall decline Lafitte’s offer with thanks. However, I’ll make you a
proposition. If you will collect my share of the fee—the twenty thousand
dollars—I will give you ten per cent commission! How does that strike
you?”
The Virginian briefly considered this.
“Fine! I’ll do it, though not necessarily for the commission. But you’d
better come along, Livingston; you’ll enjoy the trip.”
“No, thank you! I have made up my mind. Go alone, and earn your
commission if you can.”
The Virginian looked him in the eye and laughed.
“Thanks,” he said, dryly. “I’ll do my best!”
Two hours later the _Saucy Susan_, all sails set, was merrily flying
before the breeze, down the Mississippi, her dainty nose headed south.
John Grymes, briskly walking the poop-deck, stared across the muddy
waters, now and then chuckling, as if inwardly amused. He was.
It had been often said of the high-living Virginian that he feared
nothing on two feet or four. Indeed, he rather prided himself on that
reputation. Certainly he could take care of himself. In any event,
he anticipated an interesting stay at Grande Terre. He was not to be
disappointed.