"Full half an hour," was the answer.

"Then we had better start at once," said the aide to me. "What other places are there near here that would be open now, Gaston?"

"None at all. I'd have been shut long ago but for this affair. There are one or two saloons near the bridge and the Metairie track, but none would be open this late."

Thanking them for their information, and promising to let them know if anything resulted, we hurried out to the cab and told the driver to go to the bridge. We were both more than anxious by this time, and were unable to account for the strange proceedings in any satisfactory manner.

The rain seemed to have held up for a few moments, and the veil of clouds thrown over the face of the moon had perceptibly thinned, so that a faint, wan light fell upon roadway, swamp, and ca.n.a.l. The lamps at the crossing burned with a yellowish glare. No one was visible around the bridge or the buildings at the city end,--no one from whom we could obtain information as to the movements of Amory or of the two strangers.

"There are one or two places over here on the upper side I mean to have a look at," said Mr. Parker, "and if no one is there, Amory must have gone back to town."

We had turned to the right, towards Lake Pontchartrain, on coming out.

Now the driver was directed to go to the other side. Parker kept peering out into the darkness, and presently the driver said,--

"I think there's a light in there at Gaffney's."

"Hold up, then," said the aide. "Now, Mr. Brandon, lend me your hat again: I'm going to hunt through one or two sheds hereabouts for that buggy. I may be gone ten or twelve minutes. You get the cab into this little side alley here and wait. Those men will be on the watch for our lamps if they are still here, but I can crawl up on them by keeping the cab out of sight."

The side alley proved to be a lane leading through the tall hedge of swampy vegetation. I could not see where it led to, but the driver said it only ran out a few hundred feet to some barns that lay near the old Metairie track. He drove in, however, and halted the cab close under the hedge on one side. Too nervous to sit still, I got out and walked back to the main road, where the buildings of Gaffney's place could be seen.

There was, as the driver had said, a dim light, but it seemed to be in one of the rear rooms.

For five minutes all was silent. Then, far up the road, I thought I heard the beat of horses' hoofs coming on at a jog-trot. Listening intently, I soon was a.s.sured. Nothing could be seen along the dark shadow of the hedgerow; the light was too feeble to point out objects in the road; but every moment, more and more distinctly, I heard what I felt certain to be a horse and buggy coming towards us. Then all of a sudden the sound ceased.

The approach to Gaffney's was a semicircular sweep of sh.e.l.l road leading from the main highway to the galleries of the saloon. There was probably a distance of a hundred yards between the two entrances. I was standing at the northern end. That buggy had evidently stopped at or very near the other. I almost fancied I could see it. Now, had Parker heard it coming? Waiting a moment more in breathless expectancy, I suddenly heard, as though from the shrubbery in front of Gaffney's, low, prolonged, and clear, a whistle. My nerves leaped with sudden start. The same odd thrill of tremulous excitement seized me that had so mastered me that strange night in the old plantation home at Sandbrook. It was for all the world like the signal-whistle that had so roused me that night, only very much softer. Could it have been from Mr. Parker?

Whether it was or no he would probably need me now. I crept into the shadow of the hedgerow and, on tiptoe, hastened up the curve towards the gallery. A dim figure was standing at the end of the house peering towards the other entrance,--a figure that held out a warning hand, and I stole noiselessly up beside it, my heart beating like a trip-hammer.

It was Parker.

"Quiet," he whispered; "I think we have treed our buggy friends."

"The buggy is out there on the road," I answered.

"It was, but that whistle will bring it in here. There stands the big man just at the other end of the gallery. He cannot see us; he is looking the other way. Follow me across into the shrubbery and we will get up near him. I'm bound to hear what devilment they are up to."

With that he sprang lightly across. I followed; and, crouching noiselessly along the soft gra.s.s, we stole through the low trees and bushes until nearly opposite the southern end of the gallery. Almost at the same instant the buggy came driving up the turn, and a voice uttered an impatient "Whoa!"

"What have you seen?" queried the party in the buggy in a low, agitated voice,--a voice I knew I had heard before, and instinctively reached forth my hand and placed it on my companion's arm.

"Seen! Not a d--d thing. Your blue-bellied skunk has been too smart for you, Cap. He not only hasn't come himself, but he's got his friends out here on your track."

"He has come, I tell you," answered the first speaker. "You know yourself they were asking for him at Gaston's, and that fellow at the bridge told you he saw him ride across."

"Then where'd he go to?" said the other, sulkily and savagely. "No man pa.s.sed Gaston's on horseback, I can swear to that; and if he came at all as far as the bridge, why didn't he come the rest of the way? Where did he go? How did he get back? Are you sure you wrote plain directions?"

"Plain! Of course I did. I wrote turn towards the lake, to the south, after crossing the bridge, and he'd find me; and so he would, d--n him!"

added the younger man between his teeth. His voice was growing more and more familiar to me every moment in its sulky, peevish tones.

"But you said he was a stranger here. How was he to know where the lake lay?"

"Suppose he didn't! I told him to turn south. Any man knows north from south I reckon. Perhaps the white-livered sneak was a Yank at bottom, and lost his nerve."

"Tain't likely. Not from what I seen of him. His kind don't scare so d--d easy at yours, and he came out here to find you, you bet. Why didn't you say turn to the right instead of south? Damfino which is north or south here anyhow. How was he to know?"

"Don't be a fool!" said the other, impatiently, "everybody knows the river runs north and south, and Ca.n.a.l Street runs out right angles to the river, and you turn to the right to go to the lake. It must be south."

Here I couldn't help nudging my neighbor, the aide, who was chuckling with delight at this scientific statement.

"Well, by Gawd! you may know more 'bout it than I do; but when I got off that boat yesterday morning up there by Julia Street, d--n me if the sun wasn't rising in the west then,--over there across Algiers,--and if the Yank is no better posted on the points of the compa.s.s than I am, strikes me he's slipped out of your trap easy enough."

"You mean he's gone to the left--past here?" asked the other, snarlingly.

"Just that. He's taken the turn to the left. None of these places this side have been open since we came out; and seeing no one, he's kept on, and probably got back to town some other way. Like enough he's in bed and asleep by this time, and here we've been fooling away the whole night."

Chilled as I was, trembling 'twixt cold and excitement, I was beginning to enjoy this conversation hugely. More than that, both the aide and myself were beginning to feel a.s.sured that Amory was safe.

"Then all we can do is go back," said the young man in the buggy, after a moment of silence. "But I'll get that fellow yet," he added, with a torrent of blasphemy. "Get in."

"Where's that flask of yours?" asked the man on the steps. "I want a drink."

"Get in first and I'll give it to you."

Then we heard the creaking of the springs, and the dim, shadowy form of the big man lumbered into the light vehicle. A gurgle and a long-drawn "ah-h-h" followed, then,--

"Got a cigar?"

"Yes; but hadn't we better wait until we get back on Ca.n.a.l Street before lighting them? We want to look out for those other fellows in that cab, you know."

"Oh, d--n them! You can see their lamps half a mile off. Here, give us a match."

Another minute and a feeble glare illuminated the dark interior. Pale and blue at first, it speedily gained strength and lighting power.

Eagerly we scanned the two faces, now for one never-to-be-forgotten instant revealed to our gaze. One lowering, heavy-browed, coa.r.s.e, and bearded; the other--ah, well I knew I had heard that voice, for there, half m.u.f.fled in the heavy coat, half shrouded by the slouching hat, were the pale, clear-cut, dissipated features I had marked so keenly at Sandbrook. It was the face of Ned Peyton.

CHAPTER XIV.

Another minute the match, spluttering in the damp night air, was extinguished; but I had seen enough. To the amaze of my companion, to the scandal of any legal or professional education I might have had, indignation got the better of all discretion, and I burst through the shrubbery and laid my hand on the rein.

"Mr. Peyton, I believe," said I, in a tone intended to be double-shotted with sarcasm. "Think we had the pleasure of meeting at Judge----"

"h.e.l.l!" hissed a startled voice. "Quick,--drive on!" Crack! went the whip; the horse plunged violently forward; the wheel struck me full on the left leg and hurled me against the stout branches of some dripping bush, and with a whirr of wheels and crushing of gravel the buggy disappeared in the darkness. Mr. Parker ran to my a.s.sistance, and together we rushed to our own cab.

"Follow that buggy! Be lively!" was all I could find breath to say to our driver, and then we were off in pursuit. We heard their hoofs and wheels thundering over the bayou bridge, and saw their light vehicle flash under the lamps at the Ca.n.a.l Street end, and that was the last we ever did see of them. Our old horse with his heavy load was no match for theirs. Long before we reached the open road beyond the cemeteries, they were spinning along hundreds of yards out of sight ahead, and gaining at every stride. In hurried words I told the aide-de-camp who the youth was and what I knew about him, and, like myself, he was eager to overhaul him; but it was useless. Not a trace could we find of the precious pair as we drove in town. Day was breaking, and all our thoughts now turned to Amory. Where was he, and how had he escaped the trap?

In the cold, misty dawn we reined up at the Magazine Street warehouse.

The sentry, with his head wrapped in the cape of his overcoat, called out the corporal of the guard, and of him we eagerly inquired. Yes. The lieutenant had returned, about an hour ago, his horse covered with mud and much "blown." The lieutenant seemed to have a chill, and had gone right to his room. Thither we followed, and noiselessly ascending the stairs, made our way out to the gallery. A dim light burned in the window; the door was half open, and by the bedside sat a soldier, who at sight of Mr. Parker rose and saluted respectfully.

"What has been the matter, orderly?" asked the aide-de-camp, in a whisper.