CHAPTER XXX.
THE WELCOME LETTER.
The guard left Paul and his black friend standing on the door step, and went toward the bedroom, calling, in a half-whisper,
"Here, Mrs. Allen, somebody wants you."
The old woman heard his voice, and came out into the kitchen, closing the bedroom door, and looking with as much astonishment at the strangers as her numbed faculties would permit her to feel.
"They want to see you," said the officer, turning toward her; "I can't make out nothing more—they talk such outlandish lingo."
Paul motioned Jube to follow, and entered the kitchen. He walked up to the old lady and removed his cap with a low bow, saying:
"It is Madame Allen—the mother of Monsieur Rice?"
"I was his mother," she replied, in a hollow voice, "but he is dead. What do you want of me, little boy?"
"This letter for you," Paul continued, taking the carefully preserved epistle from his pocket.
The old woman shrunk away, and put out her hand as if to thrust the letter aside.