“After you had failed, what could I hope to do? But I’ll tell you what I ventured upon. All stratagems in love and war are venial, I suppose. Seeing that Miss Tremaine was deeply interested in your conquering self, I tried to pique her by making her think you were secretly enamored of Miss Brown. She denied it warmly. I then said: ‘Reflect! Hasn’t he been very inquisitive in trying to find out all he could about her?’ She was obliged to confess that you had; and at last, after considerable skirmishing between us, she dropped this remark: ‘Those who would fall in love with her had better first find out whether she’s a lady.’ ‘She certainly appears one,’ I replied. ‘Yes,’ said Miss Tremaine, ‘and so does many a Creole who has African blood in her veins.’” “Ah! what could that mean?” exclaimed Vance, thoughtfully. “Can that story of a paternal Brown be all a lie?” Here there was a low knock at the door. Vance opened it, and there stood Peek. “Come in!” said Vance, grasping him by the hand, drawing him in, and closing the door. “What news?” And then, seeing the negro’s hesitation, Vance turned to Kenrick, and said: “Cousin, this is the man to whom you need no introduction. He was christened Peculiar Institution; but, for brevity, we call him Peek.” Kenrick put out his hand with a face so glowing with a cordial respect that Peek could not resist the proffer. “Now, Peek,” said Vance, “pull off that hot wig and those green spectacles, and, unless you would keep us standing, sit down and be at ease. There! That’s right. Now, first of all, did you hit upon any trace of your wife and boy?” “None, Mr. Vance. I think they cannot be in Texas.” “Then what of Colonel Delancy Hyde?” “The Colonel was said to have attached himself to the fortunes of General Van Dorn. That’s all I could find out about Hyde.” “Pity! I must unearth the fellow somehow. The fate of that poor little girl of the Pontiac haunts me night and day. My suspicions of foul play have been fully confirmed. When you have time, read this letter which I had written to send you. It will tell you of all I learnt from Quattles and Amos Slink. But you have something to ask. What is it?” “Where shall I find Captain Onslow of the Confederate army?” Vance pointed to Kenrick, who replied: “I know him well. He is probably now in this house. ’T is his usual time for dressing for dinner.” “I’ve terrible news for him,” said Peek. “What has happened?” “On my way from Austin to Fort Duncan on the Rio Grande I passed through San Antonio. You have heard something of the persecutions of Union men in Western Texas?” “Yes. Good Heavens! Is old Onslow among the victims?” “He and his whole family—wife, son, and daughter—have been slain by the Confederate agents.” The cousins looked at each other, and each grew paler as he read the other’s thought. Vance spoke first. “Go on, Peek,” he said. “Tell us what you know.”