CHAPTER XVI.

Mr. Stevens makes a Discovery.

"Well, Jule, old Aunt Tabitha is gone at last, and I am not at all sorry for it, I assure you; she's been a complete tax upon me for the last eight years. I suppose you won't lament much, nor yet go into mourning for her," continued Mr. Stevens, looking at her jocularly.

"I'm not sorry, that I admit," rejoined Mrs. Stevens; "the poor old soul is better off, no doubt; but then there's no necessity to speak of the matter in such an off-hand manner."

"Now, Jule, I beg you won't attempt to put on the sanctified; that's too much from you, who have been wishing her dead almost every day for the last eight years. Why, don't you remember you wished her gone when she had a little money to leave; and when she lost that, you wished her off our hands because she had none. Don't pretend to be in the least depressed; that won't do with me."

"Well, never mind that," said Mrs. Stevens, a little confused; "what has become of her things—her clothing, and furniture?"

"I've ordered the furniture to be sold; and all there is of it will not realize sufficient to pay her funeral expenses. Brixton wrote me that she has left a bundle of letters directed to me, and I desired him to send them on."

"I wonder what they can be," said Mrs. Stevens.

"Some trash, I suppose; an early love correspondence, of but little value to any one but herself. I do not expect that they will prove of any consequence whatever."

"Don't you think one or the other of us should go to the funeral?" asked Mrs. Stevens. "Nonsense. No! I have no money to expend in that way—it is as much as I can do to provide comfortably for the living, without spending money to follow the dead," replied he; "and besides, I have a case coming on in the Criminal Court next week that will absorb all my attention."

"What kind of a case is it?" she inquired.

"A murder case. Some Irishmen were engaged in a row, when one of the party received a knock on his head that proved too much for him, and died in consequence. My client was one of the contending parties; and has been suspected, from some imprudent expressions of his, to have been the man who struck the fatal blow. His preliminary examination comes off to-morrow or next day, and I must be present as a matter of course."

At an early hour of the morning succeeding this conversation, Mr. Stevens might have been seen in his dingy office, seated at a rickety desk which was covered with various little bundles, carefully tied with red tape. The room was gloomy and cheerless, and had a mouldy disagreeable atmosphere. A fire burned in the coal stove, which, however, seemed only to warm, but did not dry the apartment; and the windows were covered with a thin coating of vapour.

Mr. Stevens was busily engaged in writing, when hearing footsteps behind him, he turned and saw Mr. Egan, a friend of his client, entering the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Egan," said he, extending his hand; "how is our friend
McCloskey this morning?"

"Oh, it's far down in the mouth he is, be jabers—the life a'most scared out of him!"

"Tell him to keep up a good heart and not to be frightened at trifles," laughingly remarked Mr. Stevens.

"Can't your honour come and see him?" asked Egan.

"I can't do that; but I'll give you a note to Constable Berry, and he will bring McCloskey in here as he takes him to court;" and Mr. Stevens immediately wrote the note, which Egan received and departed.

After the lapse of a few hours, McCloskey was brought by the accommodating constable to the office of Mr. Stevens. "He'll be safe with you, I suppose, Stevens;" said the constable, "but then there is no harm in seeing for one's self that all's secure;" and thus speaking, he raised the window and looked into the yard below. The height was too great for his prisoner to escape in that direction; then satisfying himself that the other door only opened into a closet, he retired, locking Mr. Stevens and his client in the room.

Mr. Stevens arose as soon as the door closed behind the constable, and stuffed a piece of damp sponge into the keyhole; he then returned and took a seat by his client.

"Now, McCloskey," said he, in a low tone, as he drew his chair closely in front of the prisoner, and fixed his keen grey eyes on him—"I've seen Whitticar. And I tell you what it is—you're in a very tight place. He's prepared to swear that he saw you with a slung shot in your hand—that he saw you drop it after the man fell; he picked it up, and whilst the man was lying dead at his tavern, awaiting the coroner's inquest, he examined the wound, and saw in the skull two little dents or holes, which were undoubtedly made by the little prongs that are on the leaden ball of the weapon, as they correspond in depth and distance apart; and, moreover, the ball is attached to a twisted brace which proves to be the fellow to the one found upon a pair of your trousers. What can you say to all this?"

McCloskey here gave a smothered groan, and his usually red face grew deadly pale in contemplation of his danger.

"Now," said Mr. Stevens, after waiting long enough for his revelation to have its due effect upon him, "there is but one thing to be done. We must buy Whitticar off. Have you got any money? I don't mean fifty or a hundred dollars—that would be of no more use than as many pennies. We must have something of a lump—three or four hundred at the very least."

The prisoner drew his breath very hard at this, and remained silent.

"Come, speak out," continued Mr. Stevens, "circumstances won't admit of our delaying—this man's friends will raise Heaven and earth to secure your conviction; so you see, my good fellow, it's your money or your life. You can decide between the two—you know which is of the most importance to you."

"God save us, squire! how am I to raise that much money? I haven't more nor a hunther dollars in the world."

"You've got a house, and a good horse and dray," replied Mr. Stevens, who was well posted in the man's pecuniary resources. "If you expect me to get you out of this scrape, you must sell or mortgage your house, and dispose of your horse and dray. Somehow or other four hundred dollars must be raised, or you will be dangling at a rope's end in less than six months."

"I suppose it will have to go then," said McCloskey, reluctantly.

"Then give me authority," continued Mr. Stevens, "to arrange for the disposal of the property, and I will have your affairs all set straight in less than no time."

The constable here cut short any further colloquy by rapping impatiently on the door, then opening it, and exclaiming, "Come, now it is ten o'clock—time that you were in court;" and the two started out, followed by Mr. Stevens.

After having, by some of those mysterious plans with which lawyers are familiar, been enabled to put off the examination for a few days, Mr. Stephens returned to his office, and found lying upon his table the packet of letters he was expecting from New York.

Upon breaking the seal, and tearing off the outer covering, he discovered a number of letters, time-worn and yellow with age; they were tied tightly together with a piece of cord; cutting this, they fell scattered over the desk.

Taking one of them up, he examined it attentively, turning it from side to side to endeavour to decipher the half-effaced post-mark. "What a ninny I am, to waste time in looking at the cover of this, when the contents will, no doubt, explain the whole matter?" Thus soliloquising he opened the letter, and was soon deeply absorbed in its contents. He perused and re-perused it; then opened, one after another, the remainder that lay scattered before him. Their contents seemed to agitate him exceedingly; as he walked up and down the room with hasty strides, muttering angrily to himself, and occasionally returning to the desk to re-peruse the letters which had so strangely excited him.

Whilst thus engaged, the door was opened by no less a personage than Mr.
Morton, who walked in and seated himself in a familiar manner.

"Oh, how are you, Morton. You entered with such a ghostly tread, that I scarcely heard you," said Mr. Stevens, with a start; "what has procured me the honour of a visit from you this morning?"

"I was strolling by, and thought I would just step in and inquire how that matter respecting the Tenth-street property has succeeded."

"Not at all—the old fellow is as obstinate as a mule; he won't sell except on his own terms, which are entirely out of all reason. I am afraid you will be compelled to abandon your building speculation in that quarter until his demise—he is old and feeble, and can't last many years; in the event of his death you may be able to effect some more favourable arrangement with his heirs."

"And perhaps have ten or fifteen years to wait—no, that won't do. I'd better sell out myself. What would you, advise me to do, Stevens?"

Mr. Stevens was silent for a few moments; then having opened the door and looked into the entry, he closed it carefully, placed the piece of sponge in the key-hole, and returned to his seat at the desk, saying:—

"We've transacted enough business together to know one another pretty well. So I've no hesitation in confiding to you a little scheme I've conceived for getting into our hands a large proportion of property in one of the lower districts, at a very low figure; and 'tis probable, that the same plan, if it answers, will assist you materially in carrying out your designs. It will require the aid of two or three moneyed men like yourself; and, if successful, will without doubt be highly remunerative."

"If successful," rejoined Mr. Morton; "yes, there is the rub. How are you to guarantee success?"

"Hear my plan, and then you can decide. In the first place, you know as well as I that a very strong feeling exists in the community against the Abolitionists, and very properly too; this feeling requires to be guided into some proper current, and I think we can give it that necessary guidance, and at the same time render it subservient to our own purposes. You are probably aware that a large amount of property in the lower part of the city is owned by niggers; and if we can create a mob and direct it against them, they will be glad to leave that quarter, and remove further up into the city for security and protection. Once get the mob thoroughly aroused, and have the leaders under our control, and we may direct its energies against any parties we desire; and we can render the district so unsafe, that property will be greatly lessened in value—the houses will rent poorly, and many proprietors will be happy to sell at very reduced prices. If you can furnish me the means to start with, I have men enough at my command to effect the rest. We will so control the elections in the district, through these men, as to place in office only such persons as will wink at the disturbances. When, through their agency, we have brought property down sufficiently low, we will purchase all that we can, re-establish order and quiet, and sell again at an immense advantage."

"Your scheme is a good one, I must confess, and I am ready to join you at any time. I will communicate with Carson, who, I think, will be interested, as he desired to invest with me in those Tenth-street improvements. I will call in to-morrow, and endeavour to persuade him to accompany me, and then we can discuss the matter more fully."

"Well, do; but one word before you go. You appear to know everybody—who is anybody—south of Mason and Dixon's line; can you give me any information respecting a family by the name of Garie, who live or formerly did live in the vicinity of Savannah?"

"Oh, yes—I know them, root and branch; although there is but little of the latter left; they are one of the oldest families in Georgia—those of whom I have heard the most are of the last two generations. There now remain of the family but two persons—old John or Jack Garie as he is called, a bachelor—and who I have recently learned is at the point of death; and a crack-brained nephew of his, living in this city—said to be married to a nigger woman—actually married to her. Dr. Blackly informed me last week, that he sent for him to perform the ceremony, which he very properly refused to do. I have no doubt, however, that he has been successful in procuring the services of some one else. I am sorry to say, there are some clergymen in our city who would willingly assist in such a disgraceful proceeding. What ever could have induced a man with his prospects to throw himself away in that manner, I am at loss to determine—he has an independent fortune of about one hundred thousand dollars, besides expectations from his uncle, who is worth a considerable sum of money. I suppose these little darkies of his will inherit it," concluded Mr. Morton.

"Are there no other heirs?" asked Mr. Stevens, in a tone of deep interest.

"There may be. He had an aunt, who married an exceedingly low fellow from the North, who treated her shamefully. The mercenary scoundrel no doubt expected to have acquired a fortune with her, as it was generally understood that she was sole heiress of her mother's property—but it turned out to be an entire mistake. The circumstance made considerable stir at the time. I remember having heard my elders discuss it some years after its occurrence. But why do you take such an interest in it? You charged me with coming upon you like a ghost. I could return the compliment. Why, man, you look like a sheet. What ails you?" "Me!—I—oh, nothing—nothing! I'm perfectly well—that is to say, I was up rather late last night, and am rather fatigued to day—nothing more."

"You looked so strange, that I could not help being frightened—and you seemed so interested. You must have some personal motive for inquiring."

"No more than a lawyer often has in the business of his clients. I have been commissioned to obtain some information respecting these people—a mere matter of business, nothing more, believe me. Call in again soon, and endeavour to bring Carson; but pray be discreet—be very careful to whom you mention the matter."

"Never fear," said Mr. Morton, as he closed the door behind him, and sauntered lazily out of the house.

Mr. Morton speculated in stocks and town-lots in the same spirit that he had formerly betted at the racecourse and cockpit in his dear Palmetto State. It was a pleasant sort of excitement to him, and without excitement of some kind, he would have found it impossible to exist. To have frequented gaming hells and race courses in the North would have greatly impaired his social position; and as he set a high value upon that he was compelled to forego his favourite pursuits, and associate himself with a set of men who conducted a system of gambling operations upon 'Change, of a less questionable but equally exciting character.

Mr. Stevens sat musing at his desk for some time after the departure of his visitor; then, taking up one of the letters that had so strongly excited him, he read and re-read it; then crushing it in his hand, arose, stamped his feet, and exclaimed, "I'll have it! if I—" here he stopped short, and, looking round, caught a view of his face in the glass; he sank back into the chair behind him, horrified at the lividness of his countenance.

"Good God!" he soliloquized, "I look like a murderer already," and he covered his face with his hands, and turned away from the glass. "But I am wrong to be excited thus; men who accomplish great things approach them coolly, so must I. I must plot, watch, and wait;" and thus speaking, he put on his hat and left the office.

As Mr. Stevens approached his house, a handsome carriage drove up to the door of his neighbour, and Mr. Garie and his wife, who had been enjoying a drive along the bank of the river, alighted and entered their residence. The rustle of her rich silk dress grated harshly on his ear, and the soft perfume that wafted toward him as she glided by, was the very reverse of pleasant to him.

Mr. Garie bowed stiffly to him as they stood on the steps of their respective residences, which were only divided by the low iron fence; but, beyond the slight inclination of the head, took no further notice of him.

"The cursed haughty brute," muttered Mr. Stevens, as he jerked the bell with violence; "how I hate him! I hated him before I knew—but now I——;" as he spoke, the door was opened by a little servant that Mrs. Stevens had recently obtained from a charity institution.

"You've kept me standing a pretty time," exclaimed he savagely, as he seized her ear and gave it a spiteful twist; "can't you manage to open the door quicker?"

"I was up in the garret, and didn't hear the bell," she replied, timidly.

"Then I'll improve your hearing," he continued malignantly, as he pulled her by the ear; "take that, now, and see if you'll keep me standing at the door an hour again."

Striding forward into the back parlour, he found his wife holding a small rattan elevated over little Lizzy in a threatening attitude.

"Will you never mind me? I've told you again and again not to go, and still you persist in disobeying me. I'll cut you to pieces if you don't mind. Will you ever go again?" she almost screamed in the ears of the terrified child.

"Oh, no, mother, never; please don't whip me, I'll mind you;" and as she spoke, she shrank as far as possible into the corner of the room. "What's all this—what's the matter, Jule? What on earth are you going to whip Liz for?"

"Because she deserves it," was the sharp reply; "she don't mind a word I say. I've forbid her again and again to go next door to visit those little niggers, and she will do it in spite of me. She slipped off this afternoon, and has been in their house over an hour; and it was only this morning I detected her kissing their Clarence through the fence."

"Faugh," said Mr. Stevens, with a look of disgust; "you kissed a nigger! I'm ashamed of you, you nasty little thing; your mother ought to have taken a scrubbing-brush and cleaned your mouth, never do such a thing again; come here to me."

As he spoke, he extended his hand and grasped the delicately rounded arm of his little girl.

"What induces you to go amongst those people; hasn't your mother again and again forbidden you to do so. Why do you go, I say?" he continued, shaking her roughly by the arm, and frowning savagely. "Why don't you answer?—speak!"

The child, with the tears streaming down her lovely face, was only able to answer in her defence. "Oh, pa, I do love them so."

"You do, do you?" replied her exasperated father, stamping his foot, and pushing her from him; "go to bed, and if ever I hear of you going there again, you shall be well whipped." The tearful face lingered about the door in hope of a reprieve that did not come, and then disappeared for the night.

"The children must not be suffered to go in there, Jule; something I've learned to-day will——" here Mr. Stevens checked himself; and in answer to his wife's impatient "What have you learned?" replied, "Oh, nothing of consequence—nothing that will interest you," and sat with his slipper in his hand, engaged in deep thought.

Now for Mr. Stevens to commence a communication to his wife, and then break off in the middle of it, was as novel as disagreeable, as he was generally very communicative, and would detail to her in the evening, with pleasing minuteness, all the rogueries he had accomplished during the day; and his unwillingness to confide something that evidently occupied his mind caused his spouse to be greatly irritated.

Mr. Stevens drank his tea in silence, and during the evening continued absorbed in reflection; and, notwithstanding the various ill-natured remarks of his wife upon his strange conduct retired without giving her the slightest clue to its cause.