m.

"How is this? Villain! traitor!" shouted De Guy, drawing from his pocket
a revolver.

"Unhand the lady!" said Vernon, in a severe tone, as, at the same time,
he drew from his pocket a pistol. "Unhand her!" and he approached the
lawyer.

"Back, traitor, or you die!" said De Guy, in a voice which suddenly lost
its silky tone, and was firm and round.

"Then I die like a man!" responded Vernon, still advancing.

Jaspar's ferocious nature, stimulated to activity by the prospect of a
fight, now promised to revive his spirits and nerve his arm. He advanced
behind Vernon, and, ere he was aware, had clasped both hands around him.
Vernon tried to free himself from the bearish hug, and they both fell to
the floor. Jaspar still held tight, and the struggle promised to be a
severe one.

De Guy perceived the movement of Jaspar, and, as soon as the combatants
had fallen to the floor, he restored the pistol to his pocket, so that,
unembarrassed, he might convey Emily to a place of security, until this
unlooked-for contest was ended. Scarcely was the pistol in his pocket,
when the window behind him flew open, and the attorney was in the iron
grip of a powerful arm! Emily, freed from her assailant, retreated to
the other side of the room, where, glancing in terror upon the new
assault, she saw De Guy thrown violently upon the floor by her
ever-present and ever-faithful slave, Hatchie!

The mulatto, having been allowed the liberty of the yard early in the
evening before, had contrived to effect his escape from the calaboose,
and had walked the whole distance from Now Orleans.

Henry Carroll and Dr. Vaudelier had heard the confusion, and judged that
the conflict had begun with something more than the war of words.
Hatchie had scarcely done his work when Henry reached the library, and
rescued Vernon from the hands of Jaspar.

The contest was ended, and the victors and vanquished stood
contemplating each other in mute astonishment. Dr. Vaudelier, who had
followed Henry into the room, assisted Jaspar to rise, and conducted him
to a chair. The courage of the vanquished seemed entirely to have oozed
out, and they remained doggedly considering the new state of things.

Hatchie bent over his fallen foe, and, drawing from his pocket the
revolver and bowie-knife which rendered him a formidable person, he
loosed his firm hold of him, as if it was an acknowledgment of weakness
to hold him longer a close prisoner. Seizing the prostrate