De Guy returned to the library at Jaspar’s summons.  The shrewd attorney at once perceived the conflict which agitated the mind of his patron.  He had come to Bellevue with a purpose, and, as Jaspar’s disturbed mind seemed to favor that purpose, he hailed it as an omen of success.  But what had so agitated him?  Jaspar was not a man to be depressed by any trivial circumstance.

The attorney did not have to wait long in suspense, for Jaspar related the particulars of his interview with Dalhousie, and mentioned the price he had named to insure his silence.  It was now De Guy’s turn to be disturbed.  The purpose for which he had come was likely to be thwarted by this new aspirant for a share in the Dumont estates.

“What is to be done?” said Jaspar, in a tone which betrayed his deep anxiety.

“Get rid of him!  His story is a fabrication,” returned De Guy.

“Not entirely.  He knows too much for our safety.”

“So much the worse for him!”

“Why?  What would you do?”

“Shut his mouth!  It matters not how.  You do not want to—­” and the attorney drew his under lip beneath his upper teeth, and produced an explosive sound, very much like the crack of a pistol, or a champagne-cork, but which Jaspar did not mistake for the latter.  “You do not want to—­f-h-t—­him, if you can help it.”

“It would be the safest way,” returned the other, not at all embarrassed by the attorney’s ambiguous method of expressing himself.

“Perhaps not; though ‘dead men tell no tales,’ it is also true that ‘murder will out.’  Besides, I have conscientious scruples.”

Jaspar sneered at this last remark; but the attorney was too useful an adviser at that moment to be lightly provoked, and he suppressed the angry exclamation which rose to his lips.

“How would the slave jail do?” said he, with a fiendish smile.

“Too public.  Our object is to save the man’s life,—­an act of humanity; but we must not endanger our own safety.”

“No mortal man can ever know that he is confined there.  The jail was built under my own direction, and, owing to its peculiar construction, not even the hands on the estate will know that it is occupied.  I always keep the keys myself.”

“If you are satisfied, it is enough.  But how can you get him in?”

“I can manage that, with your assistance,” said Jaspar, who had already arranged every particular.  “But his wife?”

“His wife!  Has he a wife?”

“Ay; and one who, if I mistake not, will give us more trouble than the fellow himself.”

“She must be caged with him.”

“You say well, Mr. De Guy.  But can you reconcile this advice with your dainty humanity?” said Jaspar, with a sneer.

“Certainly, I can!  It were cruelty to separate man and wife, even in death.  If I had a wife, I should be sorry to part with her under any circumstances.”