"_Cassius_. At such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear its comment.
--You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus!"
SHAKSPEARE.
Jaspar Dumont, on the morning after the abstraction of the papers by
Dalhousie, rose from his inebriated slumbers; but his rest was a
misnomer. The strong excitement, which a few weeks before had served to
keep his mind occupied, had now passed away. His villany was
accomplished; but it had not purchased the satisfaction he coveted--it
had cost too much sacrifice of soul. Brandy was his only solace; and
even this only conjured up demons of torture in his fevered imagination.
He was conscious that on the previous night he had drank too much. There
seemed to be a chasm in his recollection which all his efforts could not
fill. He might, while in a measure unconscious of his actions, have
betrayed some of his momentous secrets. The overseer, of whose presence
he had an indistinct remembrance, might have obtained some further clue
to the great mystery. These were annoying reflections, and while he
resolved to be more temperate in future, how fervently he adjured his
patron demon to ward off any danger he might have courted in his
inebriation!
After his accustomed ride through the cane-fields, he retired to the
library. The decanter had been replenished with brandy, and his late
resolutions did not deter him from freely imbibing of its contents. The
equilibrium was restored. His mind, stimulated by the fumes of the
liquor, resumed its usual buoyancy. He paced the room, and drank
frequent draughts of the fiery beverage.
Suddenly he stopped in his perambulation, as a faint recollection of the
lost key came to his mind. He searched his pockets; but it could not be
found. The drawer was locked. Suspicious as he was fearful, he trembled
lest in his oblivious moments he had compromised his secret. He sent for
the overseer, determined to know and provide for the worst.
After the messenger left, his reflections assumed a new direction. He
tried to laugh away his suspicions, applied epithets to himself which it
would not have been safe for another to have applied, and in good round
oaths cursed his own stupidity. In his privacy he was a pattern of
candor, and bestowed upon himself such a rating as, to another, would
have given fair promise of good results.
He satisfied himself that the drawer could contain nothing to implicate
him; and, even if it did, why, he was safe enough in the hands of
Dalhousie. The overseer he regarded as a kind of _thing_, who, while he
retained him in his service, would never injure him. Jaspar, for some
reason or other, had formed no very elevated opinion of Dalhousie's
acuteness. He had bought him off cheaply once, and could do so again. If
he refused to be bought off cheaply,--and Jaspar grated his teeth at the
reflection,--why, a method could be devised to get rid of him.
While engaged in these musings, a knock at the door startled him to his
feet. It was not the overseer's knock.
A servant announced a strange gentleman, who declined to give his name.
"Show him in," said Jaspar, re-seating himself, and striving to assume a
tranquillity which did not pervade his mind. Since the consummation of
his base scheme he had been a prey to nervous starts, and the
announcement of a stranger stirred the blood in its channels, and sent
his heart into his throat. This nervous excitement had been increasing
upon him every day, and his devotion to the bottle by no means tended
to allay it. Such are the consequences of guilt. If the victim, before
he yields to temptation, could anticipate the terrible state of suspense
into which his guilt would plunge him,--if he could see only a faint
reflection of himself, starting at every sound in nervous terror, as
before the appearance of some grim spirit of darkness,--he would never
have the courage to commit a crime.
The stranger entered the library. It was De Guy. At his appearance
Jaspar's fears gave way to a most uncontrollable fit of passion.
"Villain!" exclaimed he, "how dare you enter my house, after what has
passed?"
"Gently, my dear sir! You forget that we have been friends, and that our
mutual safety requires us to remain so still," said De Guy, in his silky
tone and compromising manner.
Jaspar compressed his lips, and grated his teeth, while a smothered oath
escaped him. But his rage soon found a more audible expression.
"Friends!" By ----, I should think we had been _friends!_" said he,
fiercely.
"Certainly, my dear sir,--_friends_."
"Then save me from my friends!"
"Better say your enemies! I fear you have a great many."
"Save me from both! May I ask to what fortunate circumstance I am
indebted for the honor of this visit?" said Jaspar, sarcastically
mimicking the silky tones, of the attorney.
"I came to forward our mutual interest."
"Then, by ----, you can take yourself off! You and I will part company."
"Indeed, sir, this is ungenerous, after I have assisted you into your
present position, to treat me in this manner," replied the attorney,
smilingly shaking his head.
"I am _not_ indebted to you for my life, or my position! You have been
a traitor, sir!--a traitor! and, tear out my heart, but I will swing,
before I have anything further to do with you!" roared Jaspar, with
compound emphasis, as he rose from his chair, and advanced to the
brandy-bottle.
"Gently, Mr. Dumont, gently! Do not get into a passion! May I ask what
you mean by traitor? Have I not served you faithfully?" interrogated the
attorney, with a smile of assurance.
"Served me faithfully!" sneered Jaspar. "You served me a cursed shabby
trick above Baton Rouge, at the wood-yard."
"My _dear_ sir, you wrong me! I did not injure you bodily, I trust?"
"No, sir! You have not that satisfaction."
"I rejoice to hear it. All that I did was for your benefit," returned
the attorney, complacently.
"Do you take me for an idiot?"
"By no means! You have shown your shrewdness too often to permit such a
supposition."
"What do you mean, then?" said Jaspar, a little mollified, in spite of
himself, by the conciliatory assurance of De Guy.
"Simply that your interest demanded your absence. I had not the time,
then, to convince you of the fact; and, I trust, you will pardon the
little subterfuge I adopted to promote your own views."
Jaspar opened his eyes, and fixed them in a broad stare upon big
companion.
"Explain yourself," said he.
"Everything has come out right,--has it not?"
"Yes."
"You are in quiet possession?"
"Yes."
"Then, sir, you may thank me for that little plan of mine at the
wood-yard. If I had not prevented you from continuing your journey, all
your hopes would have been blasted."
"I do not understand you."
"Where is your niece now?" asked the attorney, as a shade of anxiety
beclouded his brow.
"She was lost in the explosion," replied Jaspar, with a calmness with
which few persons can speak of the loss of near friends.
The attorney was particularly glad at this particular moment to
ascertain that this, as he had before suspected, was Jaspar's belief,
and that this belief had lulled him into security. He was not, however,
so candid as to give expression to his sentiments on the subject.
"Precisely so!" exclaimed the attorney, as though no shade of doubt or
anxiety had crossed him. "The Chalmetta exploded her boiler."
"Well!"
"Both Miss Dumont and her troublesome lover were lost,--were they not?"
"Yes."
"And, if you had continued on board, you would probably have shared
their fate."
"Yes; but do you mean to say you blowed the steamer up? asked Jaspar,
with a sneer.
"Exactly so!"
"Fool! do you expect me to believe such a miserable rigmarole as this?"
"I hope you will, for it is strictly true," returned the attorney,
convincingly.
Jaspar looked incredulous, and resorted to the brandy-bottle, which
seemed to bear the same relation to him that the oracle of Delphi did to
the ancient Greeks.
"You do not think me capable of _inventing_ such a story, I trust," said
De Guy, seriously.
"Ha! ha! ha! you have joined the church, haven't you, since we met
last?"
"I see, sir, you think, because I assisted you in your plans, that I
have no honor, no conscience, no humanity. Why, sir, what I have done
for you was only a duty which my religion demanded of me."
"Your creed must be an original one!" replied Jaspar, with a sickly
laugh.
"It _is_ an original one. You thought yourself better entitled to your
brother's property than this giddy girl. So did I; and it was my duty to
see justice done. A matter of conscience with me, upon my honor."
"Enough of this!" said Jaspar, sternly, for a joke soon grew stale with
him.
"Be it so; but remember the story is true."
"And you did me the favor to blow up the steamer!" sneered Jaspar.
"At the risk of my own life, I did. I bribed the firemen to crowd on the
steam, and the engineers to keep down the safety-valve,--all under the
excitement of a race, though with special reference to your interest."
"Was this part of your creed, too?"
"Certainly," and the attorney launched out into a dissertation of
theology and kindred topics, with which we will not trouble the reader.
Jaspar heard it not, for he was busy in considerations of a less
metaphysical character. He was thinking of his present position, and of
the overseer, whose step he heard on the veranda.
"I see," said he, interrupting De Guy, "you have been my friend."
This remark was the result of his deliberations. He might need the
services of the attorney.
"I expect my overseer on business in a moment," continued he, "and I
should like to see you again, after he has gone. May I trouble you to
step into this room for a few moments?"
"Certainly," replied De Guy, who was congratulating himself on his
success in conciliating the "bear of Bellevue," as he styled him among
his boon companions.
Jaspar closed the door upon the attorney, and was in the act of lighting
a cigar, when Dalhousie entered. The overseer endeavored to discover in
the countenance of his employer some indications of his motive in
sending for him; but Jaspar maintained a perfect indifference, which
defeated his object, Neither spoke for several moments; but at last the
overseer, embarrassed by the silence, said,
"You sent for me, Mr. Dumont?"
"I did," said Jaspar, suddenly, as though the words had roused him from
his profound abstraction; "I did; one of my keys is missing, so that I
cannot open the drawer. You arranged its contents, I believe."
"Yes," said Dalhousie, flustered, for he was not so deeply skilled in
the arts of deception as to carry them on without some compunction; "but
I left the key in the drawer."
"You see It is not there," said Jaspar, fixing his sharp gray eye upon
the overseer.
"It is not," said Dalhousie, advancing to the secretary. "Probably it
has fallen upon the floor--" and he stooped down to look for it.
Jaspar watched him in silence, as he felt about the floor. The overseer
was in no haste to find it, though his eyes were fixed on it all the
time.
"Didn't you put it into your pocket, by mistake?" suggested Jaspar.
"Certainly not," replied Dalhousie; "here it is;" and, picking up the
key, he handed it to Jaspar. "I was certain I left it here."
Jaspar felt much relieved.
"Sorry to have troubled you," said he, "but I wanted a paper--" and he
rose and opened the drawer, as if in quest of it.
"No trouble at all," returned the overseer. "Now that I am here, a few
words with you would be particularly agreeable to me."
Jaspar's curiosity was instantly excited, and, forgetting the paper and
De Guy, he requested him to proceed immediately with his business.
"It is a matter of much interest to both of us," continued Dalhousie,
embarrassed by the difficulties of his position.
"Well, sir, go on," said Jaspar, impatiently, for the overseer's
hesitation had rather a bad odor.
"I may as well speak bluntly and to the point," stammered Dalhousie,
still reluctant to state his business.
"Why don't you? I am not a sentimental girl, that you need make a long
preface to your oration."
"I will, sir. Every man is in duty bound to consider his own interest--"
"Certainly, by all means. Go on."
"In regard to your relations with your niece--" and Dalhousie paused
again.
Jaspar's reddening face and the curl upon his lip indicated the volcano
of passion which would soon burst within him.
"Proceed, sir," said he, struggling to be calm.
"In regard to your relations with your niece, you are aware that I am
somewhat acquainted with them."
"I am; I hope you do not know too much for your own good. You know I am
not to be trifled with."
"I am not concerned for my own safety," replied Dalhousie, a little
stung by the implied threat of Jaspar; "but I wish to provide for your
safety. I intend to go to France."
"I do not prevent you."
"I lack the means."
"And you wish me to furnish them?"
"I do."
"And how large a sum do you need?"
"A pretty round sum. I will keep entirely away from this part of the
country, so that you need not fear me."
"Fear you!" sneered Jaspar, rising and draining a glass of brandy. "I
fear no man, no devil, no angel!"
"Perhaps you are not aware that your reputation is in my hands."
"Not at all, sir," said Jaspar, coldly.
"Know, then, that I have a copy of the genuine will, and the means of
attesting it!"
Jaspar was prepared for almost anything, but this was too much. He paced
the room with redoubled energy. His bravado had vanished, and he was as
near pale as his bloated visage could approach to that hue. He strode up
and down the room in silence, while his heart beat the reveille of fear.
For a time his wonted firmness forsook him, and he felt as weak as a
child, and sunk back into a chair.
By degrees he grew calmer. The case was a desperate one. Again he
swallowed a long draught of brandy, which seemed to reduce his nerves to
a state of subjection. Gradually he rallied the dissipated powers of his
mind, and was ready to meet the emergency before him.
Dalhousie, after making his appalling announcement, had thrown himself
into a chair, to await the effect of his words. He seemed in no hurry to
continue the subject. Thus far the effect warranted his most sanguine
hopes of the realization of his great schemes.
Jaspar, after recovering some portion of his former calmness, said,
"May I ask how you obtained possession of the document?"
"That question, sir, I must decline answering."
"You will, at least, show me the paper?"
"That also I must decline."
Jaspar bit his lip.
"How shall I know, then, that you are not deceiving me?"
"I assure you that I have the document, and you must trust to my honor
for the rest."
"Honor!" exclaimed Jaspar, giving way to his passion. "No one but a
scoundrel ever talks of his honor! By ----, I only want to hear that
word, to know that the man is a ---- rascal!"
"Very well, sir, I shall be under the necessity of seeking out your
niece."
"My niece!" roared Jaspar, terror-stricken. "Did you not see her buried
at Vicksburg?"
"It might have been she, but it is scarcely possible."
"Hell!" shouted Jaspar, unable to govern his fury. With long strides he
paced the room, his teeth grating like a madman's, and his eyes
bloodshot and glaring like those of a demon. His fears seemed to arm him
with desperate fury.
"Where is the ring?--the ring!" said he, stopping in front of the
overseer. "Didn't you give me her ring?"
"I gave you a ring," said Dalhousie, calmly.
"Was it not _her_ ring? Did it not have her initial, and her father's
hair in it?" and Jaspar flew to the secretary, where he had deposited
the evidence of his niece's supposed death.
"There is no longer any need of continuing the deception--"
"Deception! Here is the ring, and here is the letter D. Doesn't it stand
for Dumont?"
"Not at all. It stands for Delia, my wife's name, in this instance."
"Your wife's name!" exclaimed Jaspar, striking his forehead furiously.
"It does, sir, and for her mother's name also, whose memory it was
intended to commemorate."
Jaspar's emotions were so violent, that the overseer began to fear some
fatal consequences might ensue.
"Calm yourself, Mr. Dumont. Do not let your passions overcome you. I
have no intention of making an evil use of this information," said he,
in a soothing tone.
This seemed to calm the violence of Jaspar's feelings, and with a strong
effort he recovered his command of himself.
"My niece Is yet alive, is she?" said Jaspar, looking anxiously at the
overseer.
"Perhaps not; but probably she is."
"And it was not she that was buried?"
"As to that, I cannot say; I never saw the lady alive."
"And what are your plans?" asked Jaspar, with a glance of doubt at the
overseer.
"I will go to France, if you provide the means."
"Suppose I will not?"
"Perhaps your niece will."
"What if she is dead?"
"I can better tell when I know that she is dead."
"How much money do you require?"
"Twenty thousand."
"A large sum."
"From millions your niece would gladly give more."
"I will think of your proposition. Come in again in two hours, and you
shall have my answer."
"Better give me an answer now."
"I wish to consider."
"You have only to choose between twenty thousand dollars and the whole
fortune. With your means at command, much reflection is not needed."
"Show me the papers, and I will decide at once."
"No."
"Then I must consider whether your pretensions are well founded."
"I will not be over nice; but any attempt to play me false shall rest
heavily on your own head."
"Honor!" said Jaspar, with something like a smile, but more like a
sneer.
With compressed lips, and the scowl of a demon, Jaspar witnessed the
departure of the overseer. His case looked desperate, and he felt
something like the gloominess of despair. Dalhousie could be disposed
of, but the niece!--the niece, if she yet lived, would be the
destruction of all his avaricious schemes.
As usual when agitated, he paced the room; and, as he reflected upon the
danger, and the desperate remedies which suggested themselves, his
manner grew more and more demoniacal. He resolved to trust no man. This
was a dark thought, and could proceed only from the darkest mind.
The twenty thousand dollars he could pay; but the man who had such a
hold upon him would never be satisfied while a dollar remained. And
revenge was sweet! No! Dalhousie must not be _bought_ off! It was a
feast to his mind to anticipate the torture of the overseer!
An exclamation of satisfaction escaped him, as he suddenly decided upon
the means of torture. In imagination he could see before him _the
thing_, who had dared to threaten him, lingering out the moments of a
hated life in slow agony. The vision was one of pleasure, and he rubbed
his hands with delight.
The means of accomplishing his dark purpose then came up for
consideration, and in this connection he happened to think of De Guy. He
must be the minister of his vengeance, and the herald of his future
safety; and he summoned him again to his presence.