face, and two or three others assisted to help him into a carriage.

Another meeting was held the next day, which Mr. Fitzgerald did not
attend, foreseeing that it would be a stormy one. The result of it was
shown in the arrest and imprisonment of Signor Papanti, and a vigilant
search for Madame Guirlande. Her cousin, Mr. Duroy, declared that he
had been requested to take care of her apartments for a few weeks, as
she was obliged to go to New York on business; that she took her young
lady boarders with her, and that was all he knew. Despatches were
sent in hot haste to the New York and Boston police, describing the
fugitives, declaring them to be thieves, and demanding that they
should be sent forthwith to New Orleans for trial. The policeman who
had been employed to watch Madame's house, and who had been induced to
turn his back for a while by some mysterious process best known to
Mr. Fitzgerald, was severely cross-examined and liberally pelted with
oaths. In the course of the investigations, it came out that Florimond
Blumenthal had visited the house on the day of the elopement, and that
toward dusk he had been seen lingering about the premises, watching
the windows. The story got abroad that he had been an accomplice in
helping off two valuable slaves. The consequence was that he received
a written intimation that, if he valued his neck, he had better quit
New Orleans within twenty-four hours, signed Judge Lynch.

Mr. Fitzgerald appeared to take no share in the excitement. When he
met any of the creditors, he would sometimes ask, carelessly, "Any
news yet about those slaves of Royal's?" He took occasion to remark to
two or three of them, that, Signor Papanti being an old friend of his,
he had been to the prison to see him; that he was convinced he had no
idea where those girls had gone; he was only their music-teacher, and
such an impetuous, peppery man, that they never would have thought of