Haines' face was white, his eyes staring at me incredulously.

"God help us, man! Do you know what that means?" he gasped.

"I am almost afraid I do," I answered, yet startled by his manner.
"That was why I sent for you. Would that include his son's daughter?"

He buried his face in his hands.

"Yes," he confessed brokenly. "To the best of my knowledge Rene
Beaucaire is a slave."




CHAPTER VIII

I DECIDE MY DUTY

The silence following this blunt statement was sickening. Up to that
moment, in spite of every fact brought to my knowledge, I had secretly
believed this condition of affairs impossible. Surely somewhere,
through some legal form, Judge Beaucaire had guarded the future safety
of this young woman, whom he had admitted into his household. Any
other conception seemed impossible, too monstrous, too preposterous for
consideration. But now the solemn words of the lawyer, his own legal
counselor, brought conviction, and for the moment all power of speech
deserted me. It was actually true then--the girl was a slave, a thing
belonging to Kirby. Nothing broke the stillness within the cabin,
except the sharp crackling of flames in the open fireplace, and the