“Then being with me would add to your danger.”

“Whether it will or not counts nothing; I shall never let you go alone.”

She pressed the palms of both her hands against her forehead as though in a motion of utter bewilderment.

“Oh, I cannot seem to realize,” she exclaimed.  “Everything is like a dream to me—­impossible in its horror.  This situation, is so terrible; it has come upon me so suddenly, I cannot decide, I cannot even comprehend what my duty is.  You urge me to go away with you—­alone?”

“I do; there is no other way left.  You cannot remain here in the hands of these men; the result of such a step is too terrible to even contemplate.  There are no means of determining where the others are—­Delia and Miss Eloise.  Perhaps they have had warning and fled already,” I urged, desperately.

Her eyes were staring down at Kirby’s body.

“Look, he—­he is not dead,” she sobbed, excitedly.  “Did you see then, one of his limbs moved, and—­and why he is beginning to gasp for breath.”

“All the more reason why we should decide at once.  If the fellow regains consciousness and lives, our danger will be all the greater.”

“Yes, he would be merciless,” her lips parted, her eyes eloquent of disgust and horror as she suddenly lifted them to my face.  “I—­I must not forget that I—­I belong to him; I am his slave; he—­he, that hideous thing there, can do anything he wishes with me—­the law says he can.”  The indignant color mounted into her face.  “He can sell me, or use me, or rent me; I am his chattel.  Good God! think of it!  Why, I am as white as he is, better educated, accustomed to every care, brought up to believe myself rich and happy—­and now I belong to him; he owns me, body and soul.”  She paused suddenly, assailed by a new thought, a fresh consideration.

“Do you know the law?”

“I am no expert; what is it you would ask?”

“The truth of what they have told me.  Is it so, is it the law that these men can take possession of nothing here until after Eloise has been found and their papers served upon her?”

“Yes, I believe it is,” I said.  “She is the legal heiress of Judge Beaucaire; the estate is hers by inheritance, as, I am told, there was no will.  All this property, including the slaves, would legally remain in her possession until proper steps had been taken by others.  Serving of the papers would be necessary.  There is no doubt as to that—­although, probably, after a certain length of time, the court might presume her dead and take other action to settle the estate.”

“But not for several years?”

“No; I think I have heard how many, but have forgotten.”

She drew a deep breath and stepped toward me, gazing straight into my face.

“I believe in you,” she said firmly.  “And I trust you.  You look like a real man.  You tell me you serve in the army—­an officer?”