Clair, and had no difficulty in finding out about him. He had been a sort of captain of marines in an armed blockade-runner, and he was well known in New Orleans as a gambler, a slave-dealer"—
Mr. Bowdoin grunted.
—"almost what they call a thug. But he had not been killed instantly; he died in a city hospital."
"There is no doubt about his being dead?" queried Mr. Bowdoin anxiously.
"Not the slightest. I saw his grave. But, unhappily, Mercedes is dead, too."
"All is for the best," said Mr. Bowdoin philosophically. "Perhaps you'd have married her."
"Perhaps I should," said Commander Harley simply. "Well, I found her at the hospital where he had died, and she died too. This little girl was all she had left. I brought her back. As you see, she is like her mother, only gentler, and her mother brought her up to reverence old Jamie above all things on earth."
"It was time," said Mr. Bowdoin dryly.
"She told me St. Clair had got into trouble
