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Updated: June 7, 2025
It were cruelty to separate man and wife, even in death. If I had a wife, I should be sorry to part with her under any circumstances." Jaspar grinned a sickly smile. "But the plan!" continued the attorney. "This loving couple will not willingly occupy your fancy apartment." "Leave that to me. Go to the jail. Here are the keys. I will send them to you. When they are in, lock the doors!"
This unexpected change had been produced in the mind of the captain by seeing a splendid equipage dashing at a furious pace across the levee, the driver of which had, by his gestures, made it appear that his vehicle contained passengers. The carriage drew up opposite the boat, and Emily Dumont and Jaspar alighted from it.
He had, of course, no idea of the plots of the latter; but, in common with all the "boys," he hated Jaspar, and was willing to know more of his transactions. Giving the keys to Jaspar, he left the room, and heard the creaking of the bolt which fastened the door. As soon as the servant had departed, Jaspar called his confederate from his concealment. "Are you ready for business?" said he.
"Miss Emily," said Jaspar, in a tone of unwonted softness, "I am sorry to say that your father's favorite servant met with a sad mishap last night, of which I intended to have informed you before, but have not had an opportunity." Emily's cheek again blanched, as she saw all hope in this quarter cut off. "Poor Hatchie!" said she, as calmly as her excited feelings would permit.
To his great relief he found no such allusion, and again he applied himself to the task of writing out the will. Jaspar smoked his cigar, glanced occasionally at the newspaper, and stared out of the window. He was evidently lost to all around him, in the workings of his own mind.
Our story is told. It only remains to condense the subsequent lives of our characters into a few lines. Jaspar Dumont lingered along a few weeks after the return of Emily; but his life had lost its vitality. Continued devotion to the demon of the bottle laid him low, he was found dead in the library, having been stricken with an apoplectic fit.
But I tell you, as you know, that everything will depend upon a leader, even if you secure the men.... So you had better keep the letter for to-night. It may help you to get the men together. A woman's handwriting will do more than a man's word any time." Jaspar Hume's eyes had been looking at the factor, but they were studying something else.
Faxon and Emily had a long consultation upon the embarrassing position of her who had so lately been the envied heiress. The murder of the mulatto, the conduct of Jaspar, and some other circumstances, afforded ground to believe that the will was a forgery. If such was the fact, the minister was compelled to acknowledge that it was a deep-laid plot.
To her inquiry for her uncle, Maxwell informed her that he had some conversation with him since he came on board at Baton Rouge, and that he had requested him to attend her at tea. He had not seen him since, but supposed he was forward, or in his state-room. Emily readily accepted his arm, for anything was a relief from the hateful presence of Jaspar.
To explain how I came by it, I need only call your attention to a certain night, when I surprised you and this honorable gentleman in this very apartment." "It is all over!" groaned Jaspar. "This is a forgery!" exclaimed Maxwell. "Ay, a forgery!" repeated Jaspar, catching the attorney's idea. "Who can prove that this is a correct will, and the other false?" "I can," said Dalhousie.
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