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Hughson had threatened to take poison, and it was thought by many that he had, and it was the effect of this that had wrought the change in his appearance. For ten days the Battery was thronged with spectators, gazing on these bloated, decomposing bodies, many in their superstitious fears expecting some new transformation.
She said that three negroes giving their names had been in the habit of meeting at the tavern, and talking about burning of the fort and city and murdering the people, and that Hughson and his wife had promised to help them; after which Hughson was to be governor and Cuff Phillipse king. That the first part of the story was true, there is little doubt.
Turning, with a simulation of round-eyed wonder, she met Miss Hughson's earnest gaze with the careless rejoinder, "What's the harm?" and went on with her story with all the reckless ease of a perfectly thoughtless nature. Miss Hughson abandoned her protest. How could she explain her reasons for it to one apparently uninitiated in the scandal associated with their especial clique.
Satan knows that he has his victims secure when they are in that condition. Archy Hughson was at length awakened by the loud tramp of the crew on deck, the boats being hoisted in, the anchor hove up. He could hear the ripple of the water against the sides of the ship. The "Kate" was under way, but she was not yet even out of Bressay Sound. The hours passed by.
Among the first brought up for examination was Mary Burton, a colored servant girl, belonging to John Hughson, the keeper of a low, dirty negro tavern over on the west side of the city, near the Hudson River. This was a place of rendezvous for the worst negroes of the town; and from some hints that Mary had dropped, it was suspected it had been the head- quarters of the conspirators.
"Well, I never! Jamie, ye'll spoil the lassie," said his mother. But Jamie heeded not. "Now, dearie, dance that little Spanish dance for me, and you can wear the gloves next Sunday." But Mercedes looked up at Mrs. Hughson sullenly; then broke away from Jamie's arms and ran upstairs. And the laugh was at poor Jamie's expense.
Half-way down the steps the watchman stopped, surprised by a voice from behind the curtains. He came back in answer to his name. A thin white hand parted the curtain an inch or two. There was the flicker of a fan held against the light. "Oh, Hughson, will you tell Mr. Thorne that I am here? He doesn't know I have come." "Tell him that Mrs. Thorne is home?" the man translated slowly. "Yes.
Hughson was firm and self-possessed; but Peggy, pale, and weeping, and terror-struck, begging for life; while the wife, with the rope round her neck, leaned against a tree, silent and composed, but colorless as marble. One after another they were launched into eternity, and the crowd, solemn and thoughtful, turned their steps homeward.
Hughson, a large Yankee person, mother to John. "Just one dance first, Mercy; show the lady," said old Mrs. McMurtagh. But Mercedes was offended at being called a little tot, and pouted her lip. "Come here, dearie," said Jamie. She went to him; and while he held her with his left hand awkwardly, he pulled a tiny pair of gloves from his pocket. Mercedes seized them quickly, and kissed him for it.
Positive that she had brought it with her into the box, she caused a careful search, but without the least success. Recalling certain whispers she had heard, she noted which of the five girls were with her in the box. They were Miss Driscoll, Miss Hughson, Miss Yates, and Miss Benedict. Miss West sat in the box adjoining. A fortnight later this handkerchief reappeared and where?
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