"Well, the public opinion in St. Louis is, that this man Legate wasn't very honest, however good his general habits may have been."
"I am sorry," said I, "that any member of the Legate family anywhere should bring disgrace upon the name; but we can't always help these things—a pretty good family generally throughout the country, I find. Permit me to ask, what was this Legate's first name? perhaps I have heard of him before."
"Charles," said Mr. Hendricks; "or familiarly, among his old acquaintances, 'Charley Black Eyes Legate,' to distinguish him from a blue-eyed gentleman by the same name. His French friends, too,—there are a great many French-speaking people in St. Louis,—called him 'Charley Noir' (Black—short for black eyes.)"
Having learned so much, I was not anxious to press my inquiries, at that time, beyond simply asking if he was still residing in St. Louis, and was assured that he had departed—nobody knew to what point—nine months before. I managed, before we arrived in St. Louis, to make the further acquaintance of these gentlemen, without letting them at all into my business; indeed, so cordial had they become as to insist on calling on me the next day after my arrival at the Planter's Hotel, and giving me a long ride about the city.
During the ride I referred to Legate, and learned from them that he was a swindler and a gambler; that for a while he moved in the best society in St. Louis, and was thought a "pink of a man," possessing good manners, and being an unusually interesting colloquist and story-teller. He was considerable of a "romancer among the ladies," said Hendricks.
"Better say necromancer; that would be nearer the truth," suggested Mr. Phelps.
"O," said I, "a man given, in short, to wine, women, and cards, you mean?"
"Yes, exactly; but a man might be all that, and not be a Legate," responded Hendricks. "The fact is, sir, this Legate is a most unscrupulous villain—a man who would hesitate at nothing. If I am rightly informed, he made a murderous assault in New Orleans once upon an old friend who happened to cross him in some way. It was in that encounter, Phelps, that he lost his finger, I've heard."
I could no longer have any doubt that I was on the right track, and I felt that there could be no danger in confiding my special business in St. Louis to these men, who might be able to give me great assistance, possibly. So I told them that I was hunting this same Charles Legate, of the frauds he had perpetrated upon the New York house, and that I wished to find him within a given time in order to secure a certain amount of property in Canada, which, after a certain period, would be so disposed of as to be of no avail to my employers, and that I was willing to give any reasonable amount for information which might enable me to reach him.
My friends told me that they thought my case an almost hopeless one, that Legate's sagacity could outwit the very d——l, and that he was the most uncertain man to "track" in the world; but they would do all in their power to find out who were his principal associates, during the last of his stay in St. Louis, the time, as near as might be determined, when he left, and what course he took. They had heard that he had gone to Mexico; but that was probably only a "blinder."