Story 2, Chapter XV.
Pluto.
The expression depicted on the countenance of the negro, told us at once that we were not expected. His lips stood apart, his eyes rolled in their sockets, till only the whites were visible, and he stood with both hands raised aloft in an attitude of astonishment!
“Why—wy—wy, mass’r Looey! war de dibbil hab you come from?”
“Why, Pluto, where should I have come from, but from home?—from New Orleans?”
“Aw! massr! don’t joke dis ole nigga. You know you hadn’t time to get down dar; you’d scarce time to get to the mouf ob de ’Hio.”
“The mouth of the Ohio?”
“Ya, massr! You know de Belle didn’t start till near night; an’ how could you a got dar? Golly, massr! hope dar’s nuffin wrong? wha’ did you leave missa and Ma’aselle ’Lympe?”
“Where did I leave your mistress and Mademoiselle Olympe! I have not seen either of them, since I last saw you, Pluto.”
“O Gorramighty! massr Looey, how you do run dis ole nigga, ’case he half blind. Hyaw! hyaw! hyaw!”
“Half crazed, rather, Pluto, I should fancy!”
“Craze, massr? law massr, no. But do tell, Massr Looey, whar be de ma’m an’ ma’aselle?”
“That is just the question I have to put to you. Where are they?”
“Lor, massr, how can I tell. Didn’t I drive you all ’board de boat yes’day noon, and sure massr, I han’t seed none ob you since den?”
“Drive us aboard the boat! drive who?”
“Why you, massr, an’ Missa Dardonville, and Ma’aselle ’Lympe.”
“Of what boat are you speaking?”
“De big boat for Cincinatti—da Massonry Belle, dey calls her.”
De Hauteroche turned towards me with a look expressive of stupified wonder.
“What!” he gasped out, “what can this fellow mean?”
“Answer me, Pluto,” said I, addressing myself to the domestic, “you say you drove your mistress and Mademoiselle to the boat—the Missouri Belle?”
“Ya, massr, dat for sarting.”
“And did they embark in her?”
“Sarting, massr, I seed um go off afore I leff de waff.”
“A gentleman accompanied them?”
“Ob coos, Massr Hoteroche ’companied dem.”
“Who said it was Monsieur De Hauteroche?”
“Ebbery body say so; but law, massr, dis chile aint blind. I see Massr Looey ma’seff; an’ sure he wa’ stayin’ at de house for more ’n a week. You’s only a playin’ possum wi’ de ole nigga? dat’s what you are a doin’.”
“Another word, Pluto! Did Madame tell you where she was going?”
“No, massr, not adzactly tell me, but I knows whar, for all dat. Hyaw, hyaw, hyaw!” and the darkie displayed his ivories in a broad grin, while a knowing look was exhibited in the corners of his great eyes.
“Where was it?” I asked, without heeding his ludicrous humour.
“Gorry, massr; p’raps Massr Looey, he no let me tell?” and the black turned an inquisitive look towards De Hauteroche.
“It is just what I desire you to do. For Heaven’s sake, man, do not delay! This is most mysterious.”
“Berry queer! Well, Massr Looey, since you’s no objection, I tell dis gemman and Missy Adele; but I thort dey know’d all ’bout it a’ready. Ob coorse we brak folk only knows what we’ve heerd. It may be true, an’ it mayent, for all dat.”
“Out with it, man!”
“Well, de folks all say dat Ma’aselle ’Lympe she go be marry to young Massr Looey; and dat dey all go de way to France to have de knot tied—all de way to France! hyaw! hyaw!”
“To France?”
“Yes, massr. De say young massr—hyaw—he have rich uncle dar—he die—he leave all to Massr Looey—hope him true Massr Looey—dat young massr he go to get de money, and den he marry Ma’aselle ’Lympe, and den dey all come back hyar.”
“And who has said all this?”
“Law, massr, ebbery body know ’im—ebbery body say so. ’Sides, I hear Massr Gardette, de banker, tell one gemman, day I drove massr to de bank. Golly, de big cheque missa did draw out dat berry day! She say ’twar for trabbelin ’spenses. Dar wa dollars ’nuf to a trabbled ’em all ober de world. But say, Massr Looey, why hab you come back? Sure missa an’ Ma’aselle ’Lympe are safe? Hope dar’s nuffin wrong, massr?”
De Hauteroche appeared stupified with amazement—absolutely petrified. Pluto might as well have addressed his inquiries to a stone.
To question the negro further would have been idle. Indeed, I was already in possession of sufficient data to determine the outlines of this mysterious affair—if not to make known the whole of its details. I was now convinced that a horrid crime was being committed—a base deception practised—of which Madame Dardonville and her daughter were the dupes and victims. In all likelihood, some one was personating Luis De Hauteroche; and, under this guise—and by some pretence about a legacy, as report declared—had induced Madame Dardonville to leave her home and make a journey to France! This part of the story might be true or not; but certain it was that the ladies had gone away in the company of some one who was personating Luis de Hauteroche. Whither they were gone, and with what intent, I could not determine; but I had little doubt as to who was their companion and betrayer: it was the sportsman, Despard.
I did not communicate my thoughts to either of my companions. I could see no object in doing so. Their hour of misery would arrive soon enough. I thought it better they should suffer an hour of mystery.
I knew that Monsieur Gardette was a friend of Madame Dardonville—a family friend, as such men are termed. It was probable, therefore, he could throw light on the matter. He had cashed a large cheque, it appeared, and must know something of the object for which it was drawn. Moreover, the affair of the lost bill of exchange was to be inquired after. Both objects could be accomplished at the same time.
I proposed, therefore, that we should at once proceed to the banking-house of Monsieur Gardette. My companions, overcome with astonishment, yielded unresistingly to my proposal, and, giving the Jehu the necessary orders, we were driven back in the direction of the city.
Half an hour brought us to the banking-house, where the horses were pulled up. Adele sat in the carriage and her brother, acting under my advice, remained with her. I thought it better I should see Monsieur Gardette alone. Not yet had the time arrived, when it was necessary De Hauteroche should know the full extent of his loss.