The gamblers dared not pursue them another step, for to do so would have been to reveal the secret of the gaming-house, which, as the reader knows, held its ground in defiance of the laws of Louisiana.
Mad with baffled rage and fury, Augustus Horton returned to his own house to await the coming of the morrow which would perhaps dawn upon a deadly encounter between himself and Don Juan Moraquitos.
To his surprise, he received no tidings from the Spaniard, but a little after noon his mulatto valet handed him two letters.
One was in the handwriting of Camillia Moraquitos. It breathed the contempt which a noble mind feels for the cowardice of a dastard. It ran thus:
"As the life of a beloved father is far too valuable to be risked in an encounter with a wretch so degraded as yourself, Don Juan will never be told the true history of the events of last night. Rest therefore in security beneath contempt, too low for revenge."
The second letter was from Paul Lisimon. It was even briefer than that of Camillia.
"You shall yet answer to me for the outrage committed on one who is dearer to me than life. For to-day you triumph; but a day of reckoning will come ere long. I wait.
"PAUL LISIMON."
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE FATAL DAY.