Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue: A Tale of the Mississippi and the South-westOptic, Oliver
General
Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue: A Tale of the Mississippi and the South-west
Optic, Oliver
African Americans -- Fiction; Enslaved persons -- United States -- Fiction
"I will tell you," replied the attorney, rising from his chair and
coolly imitating Jaspar's example at the bottle. Then throwing himself
lazily upon the sofa--"I will tell you. The case is not desperate yet.
How much is the amount of the old colonel's property?"
"How, sir! What mean you?"
"Favor me with an answer," replied the attorney, with admirable
_sang-froid_, as he drew from his pocket a cigar-case, and, taking
therefrom a cigar, proceeded to light it with a patent vesuvian.
Politely tendering the case to Jaspar, who rudely declined the courtesy,
he continued, "It is necessary to our further progress that I have this
information."
"Well, perhaps he was worth four or five hundred thousand. What then?"
replied Jaspar, doggedly.
"No more? Surely, you forget. His city property was worth more than
double that sum."
"No more, by Heavens!" said Jaspar.
"Then, my dear sir, I fear you are a ruined man."
"Sir!" and Jaspar started bolt upright.
"See if you cannot think of something more," said De Guy, calmly.
"He might possibly have left more."
"Haven't you the schedule? Pray allow me to look at it;" and the
attorney rose and approached the secretary. With the ease of one
perfectly at home, and acquainted with every locality, he opened the
drawer which contained the business papers of the estate.
"What are you about, sir? You are impudent!"
"Not at all, sir. I wish to satisfy myself that the property is worth
more,"--and he commenced fumbling over the contents of the drawer.
"Take your hands out of that drawer, or I will blow your brains out!"
said Jaspar, fiercely, as he seized a pistol from the table.
"Very well," replied the attorney, closing the drawer; "you shall have
it as you will. I shall bid you a good-day,"--and he prepared to depart.
"Stay!" said Jaspar, replacing the pistol; "perhaps I can satisfy you,
though I cannot see what bearing it has upon the subject."
"A very decided bearing, I should say," replied the attorney, not at all
disconcerted by what had happened.
"Perhaps if I had said a million, it were nearer the truth."
"Not a bit. You are still half a million out of the way, at least. Is it
not a million and a half?"
"It may be," said Jaspar, hesitating.
"Perhaps two millions."
"No," said Jaspar, decidedly.
"I suspected two was about the figure, but we will call it a million and
a half."
"Well, what then?" said Jaspar, impatiently.
"One-half of it would be a very pretty fortune," soliloquized De Guy,
loud enough to be heard by his companion.
"No doubt of it," replied Jaspar, with a ghastly smile, which betrayed
but little of the terrible agitation that racked him, as he heard these
words.
"But, Mr. Dumont, you are not a married man, you know, and one-third of
it would be very handsome for you."
"Very comfortable, indeed; and, no doubt, I ought to be very grateful to
you for allowing me so much."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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