I have been particular in describing this young fellow, as I afterwards ascertained that he was the type of a class which at that time abounded in New Orleans—most of them of French or Spanish origin—the descendants of the ruined planters of Haiti; or a later importation—the sons of the refugees whom revolution had expelled from Mexico and South America.
Of these the “Crescent City” contained a legion—most of them being without visible means—too lazy to work, too proud to beg—dashing adventurers, who, in elegant attire, appeared around the tables of “Craps” and “Kino;” in the grand hotels and exchanges; at the public balls; and not unfrequently in the best private company—for, at this time, the “society” of the “Crescent City” was far from being scrupulous or exacting. So long as a gentleman’s cloth and cambric were en règle, no one speculated as to whether his tailor was contented, or his blanchisseuse had given him a discharge for her little account.
The New Orleanois pride themselves on minding their own affairs; and indeed there is some justice in their claim. Moreover, the rôle of the meddler is not without danger among these people; and even the half-proscribed adventurers of whom I have spoken, though not disdaining to live by cards, were ever ready to exchange one with the man who would cast the slightest slur upon their respectability.
Of just such a “kidney” was the individual we had met; though, of course, at that first interview, I was not aware of it. I was then little skilled in reading character from the physiognomy, and yet I remember that the glance of this young fellow, notwithstanding his polite attentions, produced an unpleasant impression upon me; and some instinct whispered to me that, despite his elegant attire and fine bearing, our new acquaintance was not exactly a gentleman.
My companion seemed more pleased with him than I was. I confess, however, that he had drunk deeper, and was far less capable of forming a judgment. As I turned away to converse with another of the strangers, I noticed the two—the Hibernian and the Frenchman—standing close together, champagne glasses in hand, and hobnobbing in the most fraternal manner.
Ten minutes might have elapsed before I faced round again. When I did so, it was in consequence of some loud words that were uttered behind me, and in which I recognised the voice of my friend, speaking in an angry and excited tone. The words were:—
“Yes, sir! it’s gone—and, by Jaysus, you took it!”
“Pardon, Monsieur!”
“Pardon, indeed!—you’ve got my watch—you’ve stolen it, sir!”
Almost simultaneously with this unexpected accusation, I heard a loud, fierce “sacr-r-ré” from the Frenchman, followed instantly by a sharp metallic click, as of a pistol being cocked; and as soon as I could get my eyes fairly upon the disputing parties, I beheld a somewhat frightful tableau.