"Not that I am aware of," replied De Guy, in a silky tone, which,
proceeding from such a form, would have astonished the listener.
"You met no one?" interrogated the anxious Jaspar.
"Not a soul! Everything was still."
"Let us be sure of it. Step into this room for a moment. I will see that
all the servants have retired," said Jaspar, pushing his confederate
into an adjoining apartment.
A light pull at the bell-rope brought to the library the body-servant of
the late planter.
This "boy," who was known by the name of _Hatchie_, was a mulatto. He
was about forty years of age, and, having never been reduced to labor in
the cane-fields, bore his age remarkably well. He was about six feet in
height, very stout built, and was endowed with immense physical
strength. His brow was a little wrinkled, and his head was a little bald
upon the top,--and these were the only evidences of his years. His
expression was that of great intelligence. In his countenance there was
a kind of humility, to which his demeanor corresponded, that might have
resulted from his condition, or have been inherent in his nature.
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