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Updated: June 19, 2025
Upon the lawn to the right and left of the mansion were two toy houses, tiny brick offices used by Jefferson for various matters. The door of one of these now opened, and Mr. Bacon, the overseer, hastening across the wet grass, greeted Rand and Gaudylock as they dismounted before the white portico. "Evening, evening, Mr. Rand! I knew you'd be coming up, so I hurried on afore ye.
"It falls in with what Gaudylock suspected," said Rand's measured voice behind him, "and it all dates back to the nineteenth of February. When he left the house that night, he must have known " "Of whom are you talking?" asked Tom at the fire. "Major Edward?" "No, not Major Edward. And now he is using his knowledge. She told me to-day that he was often at Fontenoy.
It was yet early when Rand and Gaudylock entered, and neither the mail-bag, nor many habitués of the place had arrived. The room was quiet and not over brightly lit by the declining sun and the flare of a great, crackling fire. There were a number of tables and a few shadowy figures sipping chocolate, wine, or punch.
"I'll see him a slave-driver first!" said Gideon Rand to himself, and flecked his whip. On the other side of the cask Adam Gaudylock whistled along the road.
"Well, I'm not afraid of you," Adam said placidly. "No one at home at Monticello?" "No, but Burwell keeps a room in readiness. I am often there on errands for Mr. Jefferson. Well, how go matters west of the mountains?" "Christmas I spent at Louisville," answered Gaudylock, "and then went down the river to New Orleans. The city's like a hive before swarming.
'He's a taller man than Ludwell Cary!" "I'm a mighty hungry man, Mr. Bacon," said Rand. "And so is Adam, and so is Mr. Pincornet! You'll take supper with us, I hope? We'll make Adam Gaudylock tell us stories of Louisiana." "Thank'ee, Mr. Rand, I will. Your room's all ready, sir, and Burwell shall bring you a julep. I reckon you're pretty tired. Lord!
Unity would not for much have missed the spectacle, friends had been pressing, and at last her own painful interest prevailed. She was here now, and she sat as in a waking dream, her hands idle, her eyes, wide and dark, steadily fixed upon the scene below. She saw, leaning against a window, Ludwell Cary, and, the centre of a cluster of men in hunting-shirts, Adam Gaudylock.
There she sat in her dress of festive white, listening to a denunciation of Aaron Burr and those concerned with him and all the time the man beneath her roof! Cary sighed impatiently and moved another piece. Adam Gaudylock, who had let slip that he had been there as well and then had been careful to let slip no other fact of value, except, indeed, the fact that he was thus careful!
There wasn't any letter there, that was certain, and a slight sense of personal danger might even become a welcome sauce to such a great affair as this! His fright vanished, and his ferret eyes began to rove. There was Adam Gaudylock, still with his musket.
Rand led the way to a corner table, and, sitting down with his back to the room, beckoned a negro and ordered wine. "I am tired, voice and mind," he said to Gaudylock, "and I know you well enough to neglect you. Let us sit still till the papers come." He drank his wine and, with his elbow on the table, rested his forehead upon his hand and closed his eyes.
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