“Cash takes it,” said the successful bidder, putting his finger to his lips by way of caution to the auctioneer, and then beckoning him to come down. Ripper exchanged a few words with him in a whisper, and told his assistant to put the little girl with her bundle into the barouche, and throw a carriage-shawl over her.
As the barouche drove off, Hyde asked, “Who is he?”
“Cash,” replied Ripper. “Didn’t you hear? I reckon you see more of overseers than of planters. You’ve done amazin’ well, Colonel, gittin’ such a price fur that little concern.”
“Yes,” said Hyde; “Mr. Cash is a high-tone one, that’s a fak. I should know him agin ’mong a thousand.”
The company dispersed, the auctioneer settled with his customers, and Hyde went to find Quattles, and give him the jackal’s share of the spoils.
Let us follow the barouche. Leaving the business streets, it rolled on till, in about a quarter of an hour, it stopped before a respectable brick house, on the door of which was the sign, “Mrs. Gentry’s Seminary for Young Ladies.” Here the gentleman got out and rang the bell.
“Is Mrs. Gentry at home?”
“Yes, sir. Walk in. I will take your card.”
He was ushered into a parlor. In five minutes the lady appeared,—a tall, erect person with prominent features, a sallow complexion, and dry puffs of iron-gray hair parted over her forehead. A Southern judge’s daughter and a widow, Mrs. Gentry kept one of the best private schools in the city. On seeing the name of Carberry Ratcliff on the card, which Tarquin, the colored servant, had handed to her, she went with alacrity to her mirror, and, after a little pranking, descended to greet her distinguished visitor.
“Perhaps you have heard of me before,” began Mr. Ratcliff.