fresh breath, her voice, trembling slightly with an emotion she was unable wholly to suppress, yet sounding clear as a bell, addressed the man confronting her. "May I ask, sir, what this outrage means? I presume you are responsible for the insolence of this fellow who brought me here?" Kirby laughed, but not altogether at ease. "Well, not altogether," he answered, "as his methods are entirely his own. I merely told him to go after you." "For what purpose?" "So pretty a girl should not ask that. Carver, close the door, and wait outside." I could mark the quick rise and fall of her bosom, And the look of fear she was unable to disguise. Yet not a limb moved as the door closed, nor did the glance of those brown eyes waver. "You are not the same man I met here before," she began doubtfully. "He said he was connected with the sheriff's office. Who are you?" "My name is Kirby; the sheriff is here under my orders." "Kirby!--the--the gambler?" "Well I play cards occasionally, and you have probably heard of me before. Even if you never had until tonight, it is pretty safe to bet that you do now. Donaldson, or his man, told you, so there is no use of my mincing matters any, nor of your pretence at ignorance." "I know," she admitted, "that you won this property at cards, and have now come to take possession. Is that what you mean?" "That, at least, is part of it," and he took a step toward her, his thin lips twisted into a smile. "But not all. Perhaps Donaldson failed to tell you the rest, and left me to break the news. Well, it won't hurt me any. Not only this plantation is mine, but every nigger on it as well. You are Rene Beaucaire?" "Yes," she replied, slowly, almost under her breath, and hesitating ever so slightly, "I am Rene Beaucaire." "And you don't know what that means, I suppose?" he insisted, savagely, angered by her coolness. "Perhaps the sheriff did not explain this. Yet, by God! I believe you do know. Someone spread the word before we ever got up here--that damn lawyer Haines likely enough. That is why the others have disappeared; why they have hidden themselves away. Who was it?" "I cannot answer." "Oh, I reckon you can. Why did they run off and leave you here?" "I cannot answer." "Damn you, stop that! Don't try any of your fine airs on me. Do you know who and what you are?" She rested one hand on the table in support, and I could note the nervous trembling of the fingers, yet her low voice remained strangely firm. "I know," she said distinctly, "I am no longer a free white woman; I am a negro, and a slave." "Oh, so you know that, do you? Then you must also be aware that you are my property. Perhaps it will be well for you to remember this in answering my questions. Now tell me who informed you of all this?" "I cannot answer."