In the startled silence all grouped themselves about the long table, Norton sitting between Tarascon and Ayres. Then, while the deft silent negro slaves waited upon them and the long dinner was discussed, Norton and Audubon related what they had overheard on the bluff near the blazed cottonwood, the Louisianian adding the conversation between Grigg and Duval that same morning.
Being wealthy and very hospitable in a land then noted for its inhospitality, Mr. Tarascon had provided his best wines for the occasion, both of French and Spanish. In consequence, certain honest merchants, who were more accustomed to home distilled corn liquor, drank wisely but too well of the rarer vintage; and no sooner had the two friends finished their tale than the table leaped into wild uproar.
For this, Norton was by no means sorry. The issue came squarely forward; Was it possible that Charles Duval could be in alliance with such a gang of thieves and pirates? To many of those present it was hard of credence; and one estimable old merchant, who wore a high black stock, a red peruke, and a coat cut in the fashion of the nineties, arose and pounded the table in vinuous indignation.
"Gentlemen, I refuse to believe this monstrous concoction!" he roared fervidly. "I have known Charles Duval for ten years, and I knew his father before him. Our friend and esteemed neighbour Henry Clay, now a member of Congress, knows him——"
"Yes, Clay knows him?" broke in a loud laugh from someone. "Clay knocked him down in front of the courthouse at Lexington last summer——"
"I refuse to believe it!" continued he of the black stock. "This charge is not proven, my friends. I will go and bring Charles Duval himself to deny it to your face——"
And shaking his fist, the angry old merchant shoved back his chair and started for the door. Norton would have sprung up to check him, but was restrained by Audubon's hand; the others glanced at one another in wondering fear, bewildered. Were the merchant to carry out his purpose, ruin was certain to fall upon them; yet Tarascon only sat at the head of the table and smiled as he sipped his wine. And, as the merchant flung open the door, it was seen to be guarded by a tall tow-clad man and barred by a rifle.
"Sir—Mr. Tarascon—what means this!" spluttered the merchant, turning.
"It means, sir, that my cellars are wide and my caution is wider," returned the host with only a veiled threat. He smiled very politely but his eyes were keen as he glanced at the men who lined the table.
"Gentlemen," he went on quietly, "you can readily understand that whether Mr. Norton and Mr. Audubon are correct or not in their suspicions, no word of what we are about must come to Mr. Duval. Each man of you here to-night is a gentleman; before you leave this house, you pass me your words to that effect. Else, you do not leave. It is very simple. We are going to stamp out this damnable river piracy, and I promise you that every justice shall be done Mr. Duval. Sir, pray return to your seat. Boy, fetch that Oporto I had from New Orleans last fall."