A few moments later a tall figure, dressed from neck to heels in a gray cloak crossed the mottled lights, and disappeared into Carewe Street. This cloaked person wore on his head a soldier's cap, and Tom, not recognizing him surely, vaguely wondered why Tappingham Marsh chose to muffle himself so warmly on a evening. He noted the quick, alert tread as like Marsh's usual gait, but no suspicion crossed his mind that the figure might be that of partner.
A rocket went up from the Rouen House, then another, followed by a salvo of anvils and rackety discharge of small-arms; the beginning a noble display of fireworks in celebration of prospective victories of the United States and utter discomfiture of the Mexicans when the Rouen Volunteers should reach the seat of war, an Exhibition of patriotism which brought little pleasure to Mr. Vanrevel.
But over the noise of the street he heard his own name shouted from the stairway, and almost instantly a violent knocking assailed the door. Be-fore he could bid the visitor enter, the door was flung open by a stout and excited colored woman, who, at sight of him, threw up her hands in tremulous thanksgiving. It was the vain Mamie.
She sank into a chair, and rocked herself to and fro, gasping to regain her lost breath. “Bless de good God 'Imighty you am' gone out!” she panted. “I run an' I run, an' I come so fas' I got stitches in de side f'um head to heel!”
Tom brought her a glass of water, which she drank between gasps.
“I nevah run so befo' enduin' my livin' days,” she asserted. “You knows me, who I am an' whum I cum f'um, nigh's well's I knows who you is, I reckon, Maje' Vanrevel?”
“Yes, yes, I know. Will you tell me who sent you?”
“Miz Tanberry, suh, dat who sended me, an' in a venomous hurry she done de same!”
“Yes. Why? Does she want me?”
Mamie emitted a screech. “'Deed she mos' everlas'in'ly does not! Dat de ve'y exackindes' livin' t'ing she does not want!”