As greatly as this brief, hastily whispered conversation had served to
clear up certain puzzling matters in my mind, the total result of the
information thus imparted by Elsie Clark only rendered the situation
more complex and puzzling. Evidently the other prisoner had not been
confined on the upper deck, but had been more securely hidden away
below, where her presence on board would better escape detection. For
what purpose? A sinister one, beyond all doubt--the expression of a
vague fear in Kirby's heart that, through some accident, her identity
might be discovered, and his plans disarranged. I was beginning to
suspect I might not have rightly gauged those plans. The first
suspicion which assailed me was whether or not the man himself had
already determined that his prisoner was not merely a helpless slave in
his hands, to be dealt with as he pleased under the law, but a free
white woman. If so, and he still desired to keep control, he would
naturally guard her all the more closely from either speech, or contact
with others. His only safety would lie in such action. I had heard
him express boastingly his original design relative to both these
girls; I comprehended the part he intended Eloise Beaucaire to play in
his future, and realized that he cared more to gain possession of her,
to get her into his power, than he did to obtain control of the slave.
This knowledge helped me to understand the predicament which this
revelation put him into, and how desperately he would strive to retain
the upper hand. If, in very truth, she was Judge Beaucaire's white
daughter, and could gain communication with others of her class,
bringing to them proof of her identity, there would be real men enough
on board the _Adventurer_ to rally to her support. Those army officers
alone would be sufficient to overcome any friends Kirby might call
upon, and in that case the gambler's house of cards would fall
instantly into ruins. We were already sailing through free territory,
and even now he held on to his slaves rather through courtesy than law.
Once it was whispered that one of these slaves was white, the daughter
of a wealthy planter, stolen by force, the game would be up.

But would she ever proclaim her right to freedom? It seemed like a
strange question, and yet there remained a reason still for silence.
If she was indeed Eloise Beaucaire--and even as to this I was not as
yet wholly convinced--she had deliberately assumed to