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Updated: June 18, 2025
By this time Beverley's ears were deaf to Oncle Jazon's querulous, whining voice, and his thoughts once more followed his wistful gaze across the watery plain to where the low roofs of the creole town appeared dimly wavering in the twilight of eventide, which was fast fading into night.
The most extensive cavalry-fight, probably, of the whole war, followed. One of Stuart's brigades, near Beverley's Ford, was nearly surprised and resolutely attacked at daylight by Buford's division, which succeeded in forcing back the brigade a short distance toward the high range called Fleetwood Hill, in the rear.
There was a question he wished to ask the old servant, in Beverley's hearing, but he had not expected the chance to come so soon. The butler retreated, stepping aside respectfully to let Mrs. Sands pass. But before the man could efface himself, and before greeting Beverley, Roger exclaimed, "Oh, by the by, Johnson, has any one been here since I went out?"
"There'd be such a scandal," she said. Piers broke into an involuntary laugh, and Sir Beverley's thin lips twitched in a reluctant smile. "You're a saucy little baggage!" he observed. "Well, get on! Let's hear what you've come for! Cadging money, I'll be bound." Gracie nodded in eager confirmation of this suggestion. "That's just it!" she said.
Was it really a strange thing, or was it not, that Beverley's mind now busied itself unceasingly with the thought that Long-Hair had Alice's picture in his pouch? One might find room for discussion of a cerebral problem like this; but our history cannot be delayed with analyses and speculations; it must run its direct course unhindered to the end.
Long-Hair himself, however, taunted him with accusations of unfaithfulness in carrying out some very inhuman contracts, and to add a terrible sting, volunteered the statement that poor Barlow's scalp had served his turn in the place of Beverley's. With conditions so hideous to contend against, Beverley, of course, had no possible means of succoring the condemned savage.
And then half-ashamed, he turned and went in search of his grandfather. Again that evening Crowther accepted Sir Beverley's invitation to dine at their table. The old man seemed to regard Piers' friend with a kind of suspicious interest. He asked few questions but he watched him narrowly. "If you and the boy want to go to the Casino again, don't mind me!" he said, at the end of dinner.
He then examined it, and said to Oswald: "Why, that was Colonel Beverley's, my old master's, sword. I knowed it again directly. I took it to Phillips, the gunmaker, to be cleaned." "Indeed!" replied Oswald; "I pray what may be your name?" "Benjamin White," replied the man; "I served at Arnwood till the night it was burned down; and I have been here ever since." "And what are you doing now?"
If they went for a short airing, they would probably leave the pearls at home. In their absence Clo would somehow get into the room next door. With Beverley's jewels recaptured, her mission in this house would be accomplished. But she was doomed to disappointment. After writing her hopeful letter to Léontine, Clo's expectations of quick success were dashed.
There came the sound of a splashing leap, and bare feet raced across the bathroom floor. The door was wrenched from Sir Beverley's grasp, and flung open. Piers, quite naked, stood back and bowed him in with elaborate ceremony. Sir Beverley entered and glared at him. Piers shut the door and took a flying jump back into the bath. The room was dense with steam.
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