"He is a man, setting his fate aside,
Of comely virtues;
Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice,
But with a noble fury and a fair spirit
He did oppose his foe."
Shakespeare.
Colonel Dumont's melancholy forebodings proved to be too well grounded,
for in ten days after the departure of Henry Carroll he breathed his
last, not fully ripe in years, but mature in the stature of a good man.
His worldly affairs had all been arranged, and with his mind at peace
with God and man he bade a final adieu to his weeping daughter and
dissembling brother, and calmly resigned his spirit to its Author.
The mansion of Colonel Dumont had been the abode of happiness.
Cheerfulness and contentment--rare visitors at the home of
opulence--dwelt gracefully amid the luxurious splendor of this house.
But now a heavy stroke of affliction had come upon the devoted Emily.
The ruthless hand of death had struck down her father in the midst of
prosperity and happiness. She felt that she was alone in the world. Her
unsympathizing uncle seemed not to feel the loss, but appeared even more
cold and churlish than ever. She could not expect from him the offices
of kindness and sympathy. She was an orphan, but not till she was
prepared to combat with the trials of life. Recognizing the hand of
Providence in this visitation of the Angel of Death, she bowed meekly
and submissively to the Master Will, and was even cheerful and happy in
her tears.
It was about ten o'clock on the night succeeding the funeral of Colonel
Dumont that a small canoe, containing a single individual, touched at
the bank of the river near the now gloomy mansion. Leaping from the
canoe, which was nearly swamped by the act, the person it had contained
drew the frail bark beyond the reach of the rapid current, and ascended
the steep bank. Following the smooth shell road through the long vista
of negro huts, he reached the little grove of tropical trees which
surrounded the proprietary mansion. Casting an anxious glance around
him, to satisfy himself that he was not watched, he cautiously
approached the only illuminated window on that side of the house, upon
which, after a close scrutiny of the interior of the room, he gave
several light taps. This signal was answered by Jaspar Dumont, who, with
a word of caution, opened the window. The stranger, with a light spring
which belied his apparent years, gained the interior of the room, which
was the library of the late owner.
The person who had thus obtained admission was the lawyer, Antoine De
Guy, whom Maxwell had suggested as a fit agent for the execution of
Jaspar's scheme. He was certainly an odd-looking man. His face was of a
very dark red color, much like that which is produced by the united
effects of exposure and intemperance, and was encircled by a pair of
black whiskers, intermixed with gray. His cranium was ornamented with a
huge mass of the same parti-colored hair. His fiery red nose was placed
in strange contrast with a pair of green spectacles, which entirely
concealed the color and expression of his eyes. His clothes were of a
most primitive cut, and had probably been black once, but were now rusty
and white from long service. His form was portly, a little inclined to
corpulency. His hands were most unprofessionally dirty; but this might
have been occasioned by contact with the canoe in his passage. On one of
his fingers glittered a diamond ring, which, considering the lack of
ornaments in other respects, but ill accorded with the apparent
parsimony of the man. It might, however, have been obtained in the way
of trade, for Maxwell had hinted that he did business under the sign of
the "three golden balls." He was apparently in the neighborhood of
five-and-forty, and looked like the debauchee in the face, while his
dress indicated the penurious man of business.
"Did any one see you?" asked Jaspar, whose teeth were chattering with
apprehension, notwithstanding his natural boldness.
"Not that I am aware of," replied De Guy, in a silky tone, which,
proceeding from such a form, would have astonished the listener.
"You met no one?" interrogated the anxious Jaspar.
"Not a soul! Everything was still."
"Let us be sure of it. Step into this room for a moment. I will see that
all the servants have retired," said Jaspar, pushing his confederate
into an adjoining apartment.
A light pull at the bell-rope brought to the library the body-servant of
the late planter.
This "boy," who was known by the name of _Hatchie_, was a mulatto. He
was about forty years of age, and, having never been reduced to labor in
the cane-fields, bore his age remarkably well. He was about six feet in
height, very stout built, and was endowed with immense physical
strength. His brow was a little wrinkled, and his head was a little bald
upon the top,--and these were the only evidences of his years. His
expression was that of great intelligence. In his countenance there was
a kind of humility, to which his demeanor corresponded, that might have
resulted from his condition, or have been inherent in his nature. He was
a man who, even in a land of slavery, would be instinctively respected.
He had been a great favorite with his late master, in whose family he
had spent the greater part of his life. By being constantly in
attendance upon him and his guests, he had acquired a much greater
amount of information than is often found in those of his condition. He
could read and write, and by his intelligence and singular fidelity had
proved a valuable addition to his master's household. Possessing his
confidence, and regarded more as a friend than a slave by Emily, he was
a privileged person in the house,--a confidence which in no instance did
he abuse, and which in no degree abated his affection or his fidelity.
Hatchie was not a phrenologist, but he had long ago acquired a perfect
knowledge of Jaspar's character,--a knowledge which his master or Emily
had never obtained.
Hatchie considered Emily, now that her father was dead, as his own
especial charge, and he watched over her, in the disparity of their
stations, very much as a faithful dog watches over a child intrusted to
its keeping. Towards her he entertained a sentiment of the profoundest
respect as his mistress, and of parental affection as one who had grown
up under his eye.
"Hatchie," said Jaspar, as the mulatto entered the library, "are the
hands all in?"
"Yes, sir," replied Hatchie, whose penetrating mind detected the
tremulous quiver of Jaspar's lip; "all in two hours ago, according to
regulations."
"All right, then. You can go to bed now."
"Yes, sir," replied Hatchie, with his customary obeisance, as he turned
to depart.
"Stay a moment. Go to Miss Emily, and get the keys of the secretary,"
said Jaspar, with assumed carelessness.
Hatchie obeyed; and, suspecting something before, he was confirmed in
the opinion now, and determined to watch. His suspicions of
something--he knew not what--had been excited by seeing Maxwell in
earnest consultation with Jaspar on the day of the funeral. He had, of
course, no idea of the plots of the latter; but, in common with all the
"boys," he hated Jaspar, and was willing to know more of his
transactions.
Giving the keys to Jaspar, he left the room, and heard the creaking of
the bolt which fastened the door.
As soon as the servant had departed, Jaspar called his confederate from
his concealment.
"Are you ready for business?" said he.
"I am," replied De Guy, "as soon as you pay me the first instalment. I
can't take a single step in the dark."
"Here it is," and Jaspar took from his pocket the money. "Have you the
document?"
"I have," replied De Guy, producing the fictitious will, which Maxwell
had drawn up in conformity with the instructions of Jaspar.
"And you are ready to affix the signature?" said Jaspar, who appeared
not to be in the possession of his usual confidence. Few villains ever
become so hardened as never to tremble.
"I am. I came for that purpose. Give me the genuine will, and I will
soon make this one so near like it that the witnesses themselves shall
not discover the cheat," replied De Guy, with an air of confidence.
"You shall have it; but first read this to me. I do nothing blindly."
The attorney, in his silky tones, read the paper through, and Jaspar
pronounced it correct in every particular.
"I see nothing in the way of entire success," said Jaspar, rubbing his
hands with delight at his prospective fortune.
"Nor I," replied De Guy, "except that these witnesses will deny the
substance of it."
"How can they, when they know it not? The colonel, for some reason or
other, would not let them read it or know its purport. Maxwell and
myself are pledged to secrecy. It is upon this fact that I based the
scheme."
"But the will would not be worth a tittle in the law with such
witnesses."
"Bah! the colonel knew no one would contest it. He did it at his own
risk."
"But will they not contest _your_ will?"
"If they do, I shall find the means of proving what the document
affirms, and my case will then stand just as well. As a kind of
assurance for the witnesses my brother affixed a character,--a kind of
cabalistic design,--upon the will, assuring them it was placed on the
will alone. You have a copy of this design?"
"I have. Maxwell gave it to me, and I have practised till I can do it to
perfection. Your brother had an odd way of doing business."
"He had; but his oddity in this instance is a God-send."
"But the _other_ document, Mr. Dumont! My stay is already too long!"
Jaspar, taking the keys from the table, opened the secretary, and took
from a small iron safe in the lower part of it a large packet, on which
were several large masses of wax bearing the impress of Colonel Dumont's
seal.
"Now, De Guy," said he, "do your best."
"Do not fear! I never yet saw a name I could not imitate."
"So much the better; but be careful, I entreat you! Think how much
depends upon care!"
"O, I can do it so nicely that your brother himself would not deny it,
if he should step out of his grave!"
"Silence, man!" said Jaspar, angrily, as a superstitious thrill of
terror crept through his veins.
Jaspar took up the packet, and was about to snap the seals, when,
quicker than thought, the window through which De Guy had entered flew
open, and Hatchie leaped into the room. Without giving Jaspar or his
accomplice time to recover from the surprise of his sudden entrance, he
levelled a blow at the lawyer, and another at the perfidious brother,
which placed both in a rather awkward position on the floor. Hatchie
then seized the envelope containing the will, and made his escape in the
manner he had entered, well knowing that Jaspar would not hesitate to
take his life rather than be foiled in his purpose.
[Illustration: Hatchie knocking down De Guy and Jasper, and stealing the
will. Page 46.]
The mulatto's blows produced no serious effect upon the heads of the
two villains, and, recovering from the surprise and shock the act had
occasioned, they lost not a moment in pursuing their assailant. Hatchie
directed his course to the river, and scarcely a moment had elapsed
before he heard the steps of his pursuers. Leaping down the bank, he ran
along by the edge of the water, with the intention of reaching a boat
which he knew was moored a few rods further down. In his flight,
however, he discovered the canoe in which De Guy had arrived, and,
casting it off, he paddled with astonishing rapidity towards the
opposite shore.
His pursuers reached the bank, and perceiving the canoe through the
darkness, Jaspar discharged his rifle at it. A heavy splash followed the
discharge. The canoe appeared to float at the mercy of the current.
Jaspar and De Guy, satisfied that the rifle-ball had done its work,
hastened down stream to a small point of land which projected into the
river, with the hope of securing the canoe and the body of the slave,
upon which they expected to find the will. The canoe was driven ashore,
as they had anticipated; but it contained not the objects for which they
sought. The corpse of Hatchie was nowhere to be found, though they
paddled about the river an hour in search of it,--not that the body of
the mulatto was of any consequence, but in the hope of obtaining the
precious will.
Here was a contingency for which Jaspar was wholly unprepared. The
original signature of the will was not now available, and they must
trust to luck for accuracy in signing the false one. There was little
difficulty in this, as the will was known to have been signed in the
usual manner, and the private character they had in their possession.
Still Jaspar felt that the original paper afforded the surer means of
deceiving the witnesses. They had before intended to produce a
fac-simile, mechanically, of the original,--a purpose which could not
now be accomplished. The witnesses were all friends of Colonel Dumont,
and they had various papers signed by them from which to copy their
signatures. The worst, and to Jaspar's daring mind the only difficulty
which now presented itself, was the fear that the body of Hatchie might
be found, and the genuine will thus brought to light. After much
reflection and consultation with De Guy, he determined to risk all, to
watch for the body, and be prepared to overcome any obstacle which might
be presented. With this conclusion they returned to the library. By the
aid of old notes, checks, and other papers, the fictitious will was duly
signed, the significant character affixed, and the document enveloped so
as to exactly resemble the original packet.
The whole transaction was so well performed that Jaspar retired to his
pillow confident of success, to await the result on the morrow, when the
will was to be read.