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"And what about the other girl, Kirby? for there is another girl." "Yes," rather indifferently, "there is another." "Of course you know who she is?" "Certainly a nigger, a white nigger; the supposed illegitimate daughter of Adelbert Beaucaire, and a slave woman. There is no reason why I should fret about her, is there? She is my property already by law."
The baron was instantly to issue orders to all his own retainers and tenantry to lend their aid to those of Sir Adelbert in putting the castle of the latter into a state of defence and mending the breach which existed.
In a small private chapel near by lay old Adelbert. They could not do him too much honor. He, too, looked rested, and he, too, was covered by the flag, and no one would have guessed that a part of him had died long before, and lay buried on a battlefield. It was, unfortunately, his old uniform that he wore.
"You and I ride in no carriages with gilt wheels. We work, or, failing work, we starve. Their feet are on our necks. But one use they have for us, you and me, my friend to tax us." "The taxes are not heavy," quoth old Adelbert. "There are some who find them so." The concierge heaped his guest's plate with onions.
Nevertheless, that night, while Herman Spier kept watch at the street door, the concierge labored in the little yard behind the house. He moved a rabbit hutch and, wedging his huge body behind it, loosened a board or two in the high wooden fence. More than the Palace prepared for flight. Still later, old Adelbert roused from sleep.
"Since when," demanded old Adelbert angrily, "has the sound of his soldiers' marching disturbed the King?" "The sound of wooden legs annoys him," observed the mocking student, lighting a cigarette. "He would hear only pleasant sounds, such as the noise of tax-money pouring into his vaults.
"For failin' to stand up like a man, Scraggsy, an' battle Hicks an' Flaherty," he informed the culprit, and tossed him over to McGuffey to be held in position for him. "Don't, Gib. Please don't," Scraggs wailed. "It ain't comin' to me from you. I never heard you callin' a-tall. Honest, I never, Gib. Have mercy, Adelbert.
Haeckel ran as he had never run before. The last flight now, with the concierge well behind, and liberty two seconds away. He flung himself against the doors to the street. But they were fastened by a chain, and the key was not in the lock. He crumpled up in a heap as the concierge fell on him with fists like flails. Some time later, old Adelbert heard a sound in the corridor, and peered out.
From which it may be seen that old Adelbert had at last joined the revolutionary party, an uneasy and unhappy recruit, it is true, but a recruit. "If only some half-measure would suffice," he said, giving up all pretense of eating. "This talk of rousing the mob, of rioting and violence, I do not like them." "Then has age turned the blood in your veins to water!" said the concierge contemptuously.
"Well, now," McGuffey declared, after they had cashed their checks, "Seein' as how I've become independently wealthy by following your lead, Adelbert, all I got to say is that I'm a-goin' to stick to you like a limpet to a rock. What'll we do with our money?" For the first time in his checkered career Mr. Gibney had a sane, sensible, and serious thought.
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