."

My father went over and sat down at the table. He took a faded silk
envelope out of his, coat, and laid it down before him. Then he answered
Zindorf.

"There will be no sale," he said.

Mr. Lucian Morrow interrupted.

"And why no sale, Sir?"

"Because there is no slave to sell," replied my father. "This girl is
not the daughter of the octoroon woman, Suzanne."

Zindorf's big jaws tightened.

"How did you know that?" he said.

My father answered with deliberation.

"I would have known it," he said, "from the wording of the paper you
exhibit from Marquette's executors. It is merely a release of any claim
or color of title; the sort of legal paper one executes when one gives
up a right or claim that one has no faith in. Marquette's executors were
the ablest lawyers in New Orleans. They were not the men to sign away
valuable property in a conveyance like that; that they did sign such a
paper is conclusive evidence to me that they had nothing--and knew they
had nothing--to release by it." He paused.

"I know it also," he said, "because I have before me here the girl's
certificate of birth and Ordez's certificate of marriage."

He opened the silk envelope and took out some faded papers. He unfolded
them and spread them out under his hand.

"I think Ordez feared for his child," he said, "and stored these papers
against the day of danger to her, because they are copies taken from the
records in Havana."

He looked up at the astonished Morrow.

"Ordez married the daughter of Pedro de Hernando. I find, by a note
to these papers, that she is dead. I conclude that this great Spanish
family objected to the adventurer, and he fled with his infant daughter
to New Orleans." he paused.

"The intrigue with the octoroon woman, Suzanne, came after that."

Then he added:

"You must renew your negotiations, Sir, in, a somewhat different manner
before a Spanish Grandee in Havana!"

Mr. Lucian Morrow did not reply. He stood in a sort of wonder. But
Zindorf, his face like iron, addressed my father:

"Where did you get these papers, Pendleton?" he said.

"I got them from Ordez," replied my father.

"When did you see Ordez?"

"I saw him to-day," replied my father.

Zindorf did not move, but his big jaw worked and a faint spray of
moisture came out on his face. Then, finally, with no change or quaver
in his voice, he put his query.

"Where is Ordez?"

"Where?" echoed my father, and he rose. "Why, Zindorf, he i