“Indeed! And why do you not ask Sally Byington into your list of prisoners, since you fancy her so much.”
“Nay, say not so, Helena. I trust I am somewhat catholic in taste regarding ladies, as any gentleman should be, yet after all, I am gentler in my preferences. Quite aside from that, I find one fair captive quite enough to make me abundant trouble.”
At about this time Jean approached behind the screen, bearing a copy of a late edition of an evening paper, which fortunately he seemed not closely to have scanned. I took it quickly and placed it with the front page down.
“Monsieur no doubt has heard of the great sensation?” commented Jean.
“No, what is that, Jean?”
“The papers have been full of nothing else. It seems a band of cutthroat river pirates have stolen a gentleman’s yacht, and so far as can be told, have escaped with it down the river, perhaps entirely to the Gulf.”
“That, Jean,” said I, “is a most extraordinary thing. Are you sure of the facts?”
“Naturally—is it not all in the paper? This gentleman then has his yacht anchored at Natchez, and he goes ashore on important business. Comes then this band of river ruffians in the dark, and as though pirates of a hundred years ago, and led by Jean Lafitte himself, they capture the vessel!”
“Mon Dieu! Jean you do not say so?”
“But assuredly I say so; nor is that all, Monsieur. On board this yacht was a young and beautiful lady of great wealth and beauty, as well—the fiancée, so it is said, of this gentleman who owns the yacht. What is the action of these pirates in regard to this beautiful young lady and her aunt, who also is upon the yacht for the cruise? Do they place these ladies ashore? No, they imprison them upon the boat, and so, pouf! off for the gulf. Nor has any trace of them been found from that time till now. A rumor goes that the gentleman who owns the yacht is at this time in New Orleans, but as for that unfortunate young lady, where is she to-night? I demand that, Monsieur. Ah! And she is beautiful.”