“Nor the memory of that dead man float—­floating somewhere yonder?”

“I have hardly thought about him.  I have seen so many dead men in the past three years I have become hardened possibly.  You must n’t let your mind dwell on that grewsome incident.  It was unavoidable, our only means of escape.  His death was an accident.”

“What is it then you are afraid of?”

I told her, dwelling upon our situation so far as I could understand it, and describing the change in my plans.  She listened quietly, asking a question now and then, sitting erect, the oilskins thrown aside, and one hand grasping the boat’s rail.

“What papers did you find in the desk?”

“Letters mostly, establishing the identity of the Captain.”

“Who is he—­really?”

“Charles Henley—­Philip Henley’s half brother by a negro mother.  Did you ever hear of him?”

“No; I was never told there was such a man.”

“I doubt if anyone, outside those immediately interested, ever knew the circumstances.  Of course the family kept it a close secret.  This is where the man had all the advantage.  As soon as the Judge died he determined to represent himself as Philip, and claim the property.

“As Philip had been absent so long, no one could dispute successfully his claim to be that individual.  He possessed ample evidence that he was the son of Judge Henley.”

“But surely he would anticipate that my hus—­Philip—­would hear of his father’s death?”

“He took the chance of getting the property into his hands first.  As I understand the matter he possessed no knowledge that the Judge was in communication with Philip.  He believed the latter had disappeared utterly, and would only learn of his inheritance through accident.  To prevent this he dispatched a man North to discover him, if possible, and keep him under surveillance.  He thought he had every avenue guarded.”

“And—­and you said his mother was a negress?”

“Yes—­old Sallie.”

“What!  That awful creature!”

“Probably she was not that in her younger days.”

“I cannot imagine such a thing.  How did you learn this?”

“From Broussard first.  They have been together for years, but I happened to discover the fellow when he was angry over a punishment.  He talked more freely than he intended to do, and later I verified all he said by the letters found.”

“Then, strange as it sounds, it is true?”

“Without doubt.  Moreover,” and I lowered my voice in sudden embarrassment, “within the last two weeks the Captain had received news from his agent in the North, which gave him fresh confidence.  From his standpoint he no longer had any cause for fear from the chief source.”

“What—­what do you mean?”

“You will believe me?  You will not think I manufacture this?”

“Certainly not:—­but—­but I do not understand.”