I turned my head away silently, but only for a moment. The two men
were in all probability Kirby and his satellite, Carver. Evidently
they intended to lose no time. The accident, the period of my
unconsciousness, had left the villains ample opportunity in which to
carry out the details of their devilish plot. The silence had
convinced them of my death, leaving them nothing to fear, no opposition
to guard against. Doubtless the Beaucaire property was already legally
in Kirby's possession, and any possible chance I might have once had to
foil him in his nefarious purpose had now completely vanished.

To be sure I had reasoned out no definite means whereby I could
circumvent his theft, except to take legal advice, confer with Governor
Clark, and warn those threatened girls of their danger. But now it was
too late even to do this. And yet it might not be. If Kirby and his
confederate believed that I was dead, were convinced that I had
perished beneath the waters of the river, they might feel safe in
taking time to strengthen their position; might delay final action,
hoping thus to make their case seem more plausible. If Kirby was
really serious in his intention of marrying Beaucaire's daughter he
would naturally hesitate immediately to acknowledge winning the
property at cards, and thus indirectly being the cause of her father's
death. He would be quite likely to keep this hidden from the girl for
a while, until he tried his luck at love. If love failed, then the
disclosure might be made to drive the young woman to him; a threat to
render her complacent. The negro evidently knew very little as to what
had occurred, merely the floating gossip of the slave quarters, and
some few things the doctor had mentioned. But there was a man living
at the Landing who would be informed as to all the facts.

"I believe the Judge left two daughters, did he not?"