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"Yes," freely answered the latter, in reply to our inquiries, "two ladies and a gentleman--Madame Dardonville, of Saint Louis--I know the lady--and her daughter. The gentleman I do not know--a young lawyer from New Orleans, I believe."
"At what hotel have they stopped?"
"Not at any. A Wheeling boat was just going out as we came to the landing; they went by her. They were going East."
De Hauteroche and I slipped out of our saddles, and walked, or rather trotted into the hotel. The intelligence was terrible, and for the moment unmanned us both. Fortune appeared to be on the side of villainy.
Story 2, Chapter XVIII.
THE DENOUEMENT.
Refreshed by a draught of wine, I proceeded to prosecute our inquiry. I had not yet lost hope; and with this I succeeded also in cheering my friend. The day was Sunday; and I knew that the Sat.u.r.day following was the sailing day of the Atlantic steamer. There was then only the Cunard line; and only one steamer every fortnight. Both day and hour were fixed--each alternate Sat.u.r.day at 12 noon--punctual as the Horse Guards'
clock. At both termini of her long ocean-journey was this punctuality observed; and I knew that a gun proclaimed the exact meridional hour of her departure. To reach New York, then, by 12 o'clock on Sat.u.r.day, was the object to be aimed at. Was it possible of accomplishment?
Inquiry led me to believe that it was; and hope once more supplanted despair in the bosom of De Hauteroche.
Everything depended upon when we could get a boat to Wheeling: since beyond that the journey would be by stage-coach and rail; and these had fixed and certain arrangements.
When could we start for Wheeling? No one at the hotel could answer this question; and, without loss of time, we proceeded to seek our information at the wharf or landing.
None that day, of course. It was Sunday, and we did not expect it; but we ascertained that a small boat--a very indifferent looking craft-- purposed starting for Pittsburg on the morrow. Of course a Pittsburg boat would serve equally well for Wheeling. The hour promised was twelve; and, without further hesitation, we engaged pa.s.sage.
We needed the refreshment of a hotel; and, having paid our fare, we returned to the Henry House.
Here we were put in possession of a piece of intelligence, unexpected as it was unpleasant. It was to the effect that we need not calculate getting off on the morrow--that there was not the slightest prospect of such a thing; that the captain of the little boat--the _Buckeye_, she was called--was well known to take several days in starting. We might congratulate ourselves if we were off by Wednesday!
There was an air of probability in all this; and our informants had no motive for deceiving us. Certainly it would have given us great uneasiness--in fact, have destroyed our last hope--had it not been for an idea that entered my head at that moment, and promised to get us clear of such a sad dilemma. I had observed, while aboard, that the _Buckeye_ was a very humble trader--that the money she received, on account of either freight or pa.s.sengers during a single trip, could not be a very large amount; and that a douceur of 100 dollars would no doubt fix her hour of sailing--as punctually as the _Cunard_ steamer herself.
I communicated my opinion to my friend. He was exactly of the same way of thinking.
The thing was easily arranged. It cost us a second visit to the _Buckeye_; and, before we retired for the night, we felt quite easy in our minds that the little steamer would take us off at the appointed hour.
And she did: having steamed off from the landing on the stroke of 12 noon, to the astonishment of all Cincinatti!
Wheeling was reached; and then jolting by stage over the cold mountains to c.u.mberland, we continued on by rail to Baltimore. Thence without delay to the drab city of Philadelphia; and onward to the metropolis of America. We made no inquiries by the way; we did not stop, except for the hours of the different trains: we had but one object in view--to reach New York by 12 noon on Sat.u.r.day.
It was Sat.u.r.day morning when we left Philadelphia. We were in the very train designed to reach New York in time--the express--arranged for the sailing of the European steamer. Thank Heaven, we should be in time!
The Fates once more turned against us. Some accident to the engine, occurring near Trenton, delayed us for half an hour; but this being righted, we pressed forward with accelerated speed.
Many a watch was regarded with anxious eyes--for there were many in the train who proposed crossing the Atlantic--but who can tell the agony experienced at this moment by Luis de Hauteroche? I was myself too troubled to speak.
The feeling at length reached its culminating point. The city of New Jersey was in sight: there lay the _Cunard_ steamer at her moorings!
No, she is moving out! See! she has dropped into mid stream! Behold that white puff of smoke! Hark! 'tis the signal gun! She is gone-- gone!
No boat may overtake her now--the swiftest would be launched in vain.
She will delay for no one--not even for Prince or President. She is the _Cunard_ packet. Her laws are immutable--fixed--inexorable. O G.o.d! she is gone!
My friend's distress exhibited itself in a frantic manner; but there were others, suffering from far less disappointment, who made equal show of their chagrin. This had the effect of drawing away from us that notice we might otherwise have attracted.
Silent and melancholy we both stood upon the now deserted wharf--gazing upon the black hull, that every minute was growing a more insignificant object to the sight. I shall not attempt to depict the feelings of my companion: I could scarcely a.n.a.lyse my own.
We were turning coldly away to seek some hotel; we had even advanced some paces from the landing, when a singular cry, followed by a confused murmur of voices, as of men in dispute, caused us to look back.
A small knot of sea-faring men stood on a projection of the wharf: they appeared to be employes of the Steam Company; who, after performing the duty of getting the vessel afloat, had lingered to see her out of the bay. One of the men held a telescope levelled to his eye, and directed down the bay: as if following the movements of the steamer. We listened to hear what the men were saying.
"Yes!" exclaimed the man with the telescope, "I told you so--something wrong yonder."
"Give me the gla.s.s, old fellow!" demanded one of his comrades--a rough-looking sailor.
"Yes, give it to Brace, Bill--he's got a long sight."
The man surrendered the gla.s.s, as requested; and Brace, placing it to his eye, looked silently and steadily through it. I could have heard my companion's heart heating, had it not been for the thumping of my own.
How eagerly we waited for the words of Brace! They came at length-- words of gold!
"Ye be right, Bill--there ur somethin' wrong--there's a paddle broke--I sees 'em on the wheel-house--yes, that's it."
"They'll put back again!" suggested one.
"Sartin to do," drawled Brace, "they are putting back--they're getting the cripple round now as fast as she can come. Now she comes this way.
Make ready your ropes, boys--more grog, and plenty o' keelhaulin'!"
The reaction of feeling produced by these words, in the minds of my companion and myself, cannot be described; and it was sustained by the evidence of our own eyes--for, the moment after, we could make out that it was the steamer's head that was towards us, and that she was slowly but certainly making up the bay--back to the landing from which she had just taken her departure.
There was something almost astounding in this occurrence. It seemed as if Providence itself had a hand in the event.
We did not allow our excited feelings to hinder us from taking some cautionary steps necessary to the carrying out of our design. There was time enough for us to reach the office of the nearest justice, and arm ourselves with the authority for an arrest; and before the steamer had reached the wharf, we were on the spot with two plainclothes policemen, anxious for action. They scented large game, and consequently a rich reward.
They had soon an opportunity of earning it; for, in a few minutes after, we were aboard, and Monsieur Jacques Despard was in handcuffs!
I was glad that we alighted upon him alone--as it saved a painful scene.
The ladies were in their state-room; and knew nothing of the arrest, till after their travelling companion had been carried over the side of the s.h.i.+p!
There was a scene notwithstanding--a scene of surprise and confusion; but explanations followed fast; and the scene ended by all who took part in it becoming imbued with one common feeling--that sense of supreme joy, which one experiences who has just narrowly escaped from some terrible danger.
As yet no injury had accrued. How near all had been to utter ruin!
Of course the pa.s.sage money was freely forfeited to Messrs. Cunard Co; and the family luggage transferred from the steamer to a Broadway hotel.
After a short stay there, another steamer that plies between New York and New Orleans, carried us directly to the latter city--where Monsieur Gardette was good enough to meet us, and deliver up his temporary ward.
Long ere this we had learnt the details of the Despard infamy. They differed, in no essential particular, from what conjecture had suggested to us.
It appeared that it was not the first time Despard had personated young De Hauteroche, to his own advantage, and the latter's disgrace. He was well aware of the remarkable likeness between them; and with this, as an aid to his swindling designs, he acted with a certainty of success. He had taken pains to possess himself of such points in the family history as were accessible to his inquiries; and it was while prosecuting this branch of his _industrie_, that the letters had fallen into his hands.
Of the use he made of them we know most of the details. As already conjectured, he had started for Saint Louis, on gaining possession of the will and the letter which accompanied it; and, as neither Madame Dardonville nor Olympe had seen Luis de Hauteroche for a considerable period of time, the deception was easy enough. The voyage to France was a deep laid scheme; and the circular letter for 10,000 dollars on a Paris Bank was a bold stroke of swindling. Once there, the villain expected to be the recipient of that money. The plea for the journey was not without plausibility. The Saint Louis rumour was correct: a dead uncle's property left to the De Hauteroches--a legacy that required to be claimed immediately. Another inducement: his sister Adele and the young Englishman were to meet him there--in Paris. The Englishman was married to Adele, and preferred returning to Europe by the West India steamer! Such had been his story.