Walter was surprised to find that his brother owed Nat Bradley two thousand dollars. I could see, however, that he scarce regretted it. It explained that sinister attachment which existed between the two, and which it had grieved him to think was a friendship. Now he knew it to be of a different nature, and preferred the knowledge.
"Never mind about the debt, Walt," said Henry, in answer to the inquiry as to how it had been contracted. "It is not honestly due; and, if we succeed in bringing the scoundrel to justice, I suppose I shall be released from the liability."
"Ah! and if our suspicions prove true, I shall lose twice the amount, even if I recover my cotton."
"How?"
"Why, my negroes—four of the best hands we had. Poor fellows, I care not so much for the money, but to think that they have been made away with—murdered. It is fearful!"
"It is, indeed," said the elder, and less sentimental brother. "But in any case you will not lose by that, I mean in money. There are plenty of likely hands on Nat Bradley's plantation, though I've never known much of either it or them. Of course you can recover the full value of what you have lost; and, if it all prove true, you will have to proceed against Mr. Bradley's heirs instead of himself. There's not a moment to be lost. In my opinion, the best way would be for you, brother, to ride down to Natchez as fast as a horse can carry you, and see if you can get a boat there. There might be one of the Natchez and New Orleans packets starting at once; besides, you have still the chance of the up-river boat. If you get one before to-morrow night you will be in good time. Once in New Orleans, go direct to our old friend Charles Sawyer, who's practicing law among the creoles. He's sharp enough for what we want. You'll find his office in St. Charles street, near the Hotel. I can stay and watch our own landing, and follow by the first boat. Our friend here, I hope, will have no objection to go down along with me. Without him we would be helpless. You would lose your cotton, and I should have to pay a debt contracted with a swindler, which, but for foul play, I should never have been owing."
Henry Woodley seemed all at once to have changed his character, displaying an energy for which I had not given him credit. Perhaps it might be accounted for by his hope of getting rid of an incubus hitherto harassing him.
"Now, Walt!" he continued, "get ready to ride at top speed for Natchez. I'll order you the best horse in my stable." "Yao, Dick!" he cried, stepping out into the porch, and hailing one of the negroes seen outside the inclosure. "Put the saddle on the sorrel mare, and bring her round to the gate. Be quick about it."
In a few minutes the sorrel stood by the gate, Miss Woodley wondering about the preparations.
"Never mind, Corneel!" said her brother, in answer to her request for an explanation. "Walter is called to New Orleans on pressing business, and I am going to take boat for Natchez. I shall have to go down myself by the next snorter that comes along; and, as our young friend here promises to accompany me, we can't leave you alone. So you must make the trip too. On the way down I may let you into our secret. Now will that content you?"