“So I suppose,” said Vernon, with an assumption of indifference.

“But all the sport is yet to come.”

“Indeed,” said Vernon, burning with anxiety, but striving to maintain his accustomed easy and reckless air.

“Yes, Vernon, all the hard work we did up the river shall not be in vain.  I shall win the prize!” and Maxwell rubbed his hands at the pleasant anticipation.

“Wish you joy, Max!  But you don’t mean to marry the girl?”

“Certainly.”

“What! a quadroon?”

“Pshaw! that story is all blown through.  Her old uncle, up the river, got up that abstraction, so as to finger her property,” said Maxwell, forgetting, in his candor, the scruples which his companion had expressed on a former occasion with relation to persecuting a white woman,—­scruples which Vernon did not seem disposed to press upon the attorney’s memory.

“You helped him through with his scheme?” answered Vernon, with a bold, careless air.

“’Pon honor, I had nothing to do with it.  Old Jaspar did it all himself,” replied Maxwell, with an oath.

“Looks a little like you, though,” said Vernon, with a nonchalance which provoked Maxwell, whose temper was not of the mildest tone.

“Nevertheless, it is none of mine, though the plan was a creditable one.  But it has brought old Jaspar into a wasp’s nest.”

“How’s that?”

“I had my eye on the girl, ever since the colonel died.  I saw through Jaspar’s plot, and a little bravado made him tell me all about it.”

“Good!”

“Just so; and, as they are old clients of mine, why, I could not do less than get them out of the scrape, and remove the stain from the name of the fair heiress.”

“How can you do it?”

“That’s the point.”

“Looks rather complicated.”

“Exactly so; but energy and skill will accomplish wonders.”

“Very true,” replied Vernon, in his usual quiet manner, well knowing that Maxwell would take the alarm if he appeared in the least inquisitive,—­so he contented himself with this simple ejaculation.

“Can I trust you still?” said Maxwell, in a low tone, and with an anxious look, after a pause of several minutes.

“I care not whether you trust me or not,” replied Vernon, with characteristic indifference.

“Are you the man you were two months ago?  If you are, I need ask no more questions.”

“I am.  And now let me tell you, if you have work for me, the pay must be liberal.  I have reformed in one respect, and that is from low prices to high ones.  I have done too many of your little chores for nothing.  Good pay is my motto now.”

“Be it so,” replied Maxwell, whose suspicions, as Vernon had intended, were diverted by this by-talk.  “I will pay you well.  If my plan succeeds, three thousand.”

“Good! that sounds liberal.  But suppose it fail?”

“It cannot fail.”