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Then it was on Saturday that we lost Gignoux." "I have reason to think that he has already sold out to the Baron," I put in. "Eh?" "I saw him in communication with the police at the Governor's hotel last night," I answered. Nick was silent for a moment. "Well," he said, "that may make some excitement." Then he laughed. "I wonder why Auguste didn't think of doing that," he said. "And now, what?"
"I saw Monsieur Gignoux in conference with some of your officers who came out of this hotel." "You have sharp eyes, Monsieur," he remarked. "I suspected the man when I met him in Kentucky," I continued, not heeding this. "Monsieur Vigo himself distrusted him.
It was the hottest part of a burning day, and the dome of the sky was like a brazen bell above us. We passed the calabozo with its iron gates and tiny grilled windows pierced in the massive walls, behind which Gignoux languished, and I could not repress a smile as I thought of him. Even the Spaniards sometimes happened upon justice.
There was no question of sleep, for the events of the day and surmises for the morrow tortured me as I tossed in the heat. Had the man been Gignoux? If so, he was in league with Carondelet's police. I believed him fully capable of this. And if he knew Nick's whereabouts and St. Gre's, they would both be behind the iron gateway of the calabozo in the morning.
"You tek ze air, Monsieur Reetchie?" said he. "You look for some one, yes? You git up too late see him off." I made a swift resolve never to quibble with this man. "So Mr. Temple has gone to New Orleans with the Sieur de St. Gre," I said. Citizen Gignoux laid a fat finger on one side of his great nose. The nose was red and shiny, I remember, and glistened in the sunlight.
"Since when did Monsieur assume this intimate position in my family?" he said, glancing at the Vicomtesse. "Monsieur de St. Gre," I replied with difficulty, "you will confine yourself to the matter in hand. You are in no situation to demand terms; you must take or leave what is offered you. Last night the man called Gignoux, who was of your party, was at the Governor's house."
The Inness family had just moved from Newburg, probably the elder Innes seeking in Newark a good location for his son's beginning. The first art-work Inness did was engraving; as he had been apprenticed to that business, but afterward he studied with Gignoux, a pupil of Delaroche. At that time there was what is known as the Hudson River School.
But Gignoux seemed of a different feather. Moreover, he had been too shrewd to deny what Colonel Clark would have denied in a soberer moment, that St. Gre and Nick had gone to New Orleans. "You not spik, Monsieur. You not think they have success. You are not Federalist, no, for I hear you march las night with your frien', I hear you wave torch."
It was the hottest part of a burning day, and the dome of the sky was like a brazen bell above us. We passed the calabozo with its iron gates and tiny grilled windows pierced in the massive walls, behind which Gignoux languished, and I could not repress a smile as I thought of him. Even the Spaniards sometimes happened upon justice.
That I am come now home to fight for Louisiane, as Monsieur Genet will tell you whom I saw in Philadelphe." "The Citizen Capitaine he spiks true." All eyes were turned towards Gignoux, who had been sitting back in his chair, very quiet. "It is true what he say," he repeated, "I have it by Monsieur Genet himself."
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