doubt—­the expression of a vague fear in Kirby’s heart that, through some accident, her identity might be discovered, and his plans disarranged.  I was beginning to suspect I might not have rightly gauged those plans.  The first suspicion which assailed me was whether or not the man himself had already determined that his prisoner was not merely a helpless slave in his hands, to be dealt with as he pleased under the law, but a free white woman.  If so, and he still desired to keep control, he would naturally guard her all the more closely from either speech, or contact with others.  His only safety would lie in such action.  I had heard him express boastingly his original design relative to both these girls; I comprehended the part he intended Eloise Beaucaire to play in his future, and realized that he cared more to gain possession of her, to get her into his power, than he did to obtain control of the slave.  This knowledge helped me to understand the predicament which this revelation put him into, and how desperately he would strive to retain the upper hand.  If, in very truth, she was Judge Beaucaire’s white daughter, and could gain communication with others of her class, bringing to them proof of her identity, there would be real men enough on board the Adventurer to rally to her support.  Those army officers alone would be sufficient to overcome any friends Kirby might call upon, and in that case the gambler’s house of cards would fall instantly into ruins.  We were already sailing through free territory, and even now he held on to his slaves rather through courtesy than law.  Once it was whispered that one of these slaves was white, the daughter of a wealthy planter, stolen by force, the game would be up.

But would she ever proclaim her right to freedom?  It seemed like a strange question, and yet there remained a reason still for silence.  If she was indeed Eloise Beaucaire—­and even as to this I was not as yet wholly convinced—­she had deliberately assumed to be Rene, doing so for a specific purpose—­that object being to afford the other an opportunity for escape.  She, conscious of her white blood, her standing of respectability, had felt reasonably safe in this escapade; had decided that no great harm could befall her through such a masquerade for a few days.  If worst came to worst she could openly proclaim her name at any moment, assured of protection at the hands of anyone present, and thus defy Kirby.  I recalled to memory their conversation, which I had overheard in the library at Beaucaire; and I understood now what had easily led to all this—­her belief, from Kirby’s own words, that nothing further could be done until the necessary legal papers had been served on her in person.  This faith, coupled with the mysterious disappearance of Rene and the quadroon mother, and her being mistaken for the absent girl, all led her inevitably to the conclusion that she must continue to act out the part assumed until those others were safe beyond pursuit.  With quick wit she had grasped this chance for service; had encouraged Kirby to believe her the slave, and then, in sudden desperation, had been driven into trusting me in an effort to keep out of his hands.