“What was your purpose?”

“To marry Miss Dumont.”

The attorney’s answers seemed plausible.  His actions were in conformity with his avowed purpose.  If he wished to marry his mistress, he would not have joined in the plot.  But the bill of sale, which Emily had mentioned to him, was against him.  Poor Hatchie was no lawyer, and was sadly perplexed by the conflicting testimony.

“Where did you get that bill of sale?” said he.

Again the attorney hesitated, and again Hatchie pulled the rope till he was ready to answer.

“Is it a forgery?” said Hatchie, slackening the rope.

“Probably it is,” replied Maxwell.

“Who wrote it?”

“De Guy.”

“This De Guy is a most consummate villain, and shall yet be brought to justice.  But how came it in your possession?”

“I received it from De Guy, as the agent of Mr. Dumont.  In fine, I bought the girl,” said Maxwell, maliciously.

Hatchie’s temper had nearly got the better of him, for he made a spring on the rope, which threatened death to the attorney.  But his judgment overcame his passion, and he again turned his attention to the great object before him.

“Now, Mr. Maxwell, as you are a lawyer,” said Hatchie, “you are aware of the disadvantages I shall labor under in making the evidence you have furnished me available.”

“I am,” replied the attorney.  “Do you think I would have yielded to you, if I had not known it?”

“Have you told me the truth in these statements?” asked Hatchie.

The attorney hesitated; but a sharp twinge at the neck compelled him to say that he had.

“Then I shall be obliged to trouble you to repeat some of your revelations.  Now, mark me, Mr. Maxwell; I am going to procure the woodman and his son, to witness your statements.”

“Fool! what avail will they be, extorted with a rope about my neck?”

“Perhaps we may be able to show you some law such as you never read in your books.  If, as I suspect, this carpet-bag contains papers, I doubt not we shall find something to confirm your evidence.”

The face of the lawyer grew a shade paler; but he spoke not.

“Before I go, let me charge you, at your peril, not to be obstinate; for here I solemnly assure you that you shall swing by the branch above you, if you refuse to answer,” said Hatchie, going towards the cabin.

The scene of this exploit was at some distance from the log-cabin of the woodman, and the mulatto had scarcely got out of sight before Vernon appeared.  He had been at a little distance from the parties during the whole scene, but he had too much respect for the prowess of his late conqueror to venture on a rescue.  He had once been tempted to do so, and had made the noise which had disturbed Hatchie.  The blackleg, without much sympathy for his confederate, had rather regarded the whole scene as a good joke than as a serious affair; and, as he approached the lawyer, his merriment and keen satire were not relished by the victim.