a tall tree shaded the flower bed at its foot and threw
shadows upon the first of the steps leading to the upper floors. The
Ralestones frankly stared about them. This was the first house of the
French Quarter they had seen, although their name might have admitted
them to several closely guarded Creole strongholds. LeFleur's house
followed a pattern common to the old city. The lower floor fronting on
the street was in use only as a shop or store-room. In the early days
each shopkeeper lived above his place of business and rented the third
and fourth floors to aristocrats in from their plantations for the
fashionable season.

A long, narrow ell ran back from the main part of the house to form one
side of the courtyard. The ground floor of this contained the old slave
quarters and kitchens, while the second was cut into bedrooms which had
housed the young men of the family so that they could come and go at
will without disturbing the more sedate members of the household. These
small rooms were now in use as the offices of Mr. LeFleur. From the
balcony, running along the ell, onto which each room opened, one could
look down into the courtyard. It was on this balcony that the lawyer met
them with outstretched hands after they had given their names to his
dark, languid young clerk.

"But this is good of you!" Rene LeFleur beamed on them impartially. He
was a small, plumpish, round-faced man in his early forties, who spoke
in perpetual italics. His eyebrows, arched over-generously by Nature,
gave him a look of never-ending astonishment at the world and all its
works. But his genial smile was kindness itself. Unaccustomed as Val was
to sudden enthusiasms, he found himself liking Rene LeFleur almost
before his hand gripped Val's.

"Miss Ralestone, it is a pleasure, a very great pleasure, to see you
here! And this," he turned to Val, "this must be that brother Valerius
both you and Mr. Ralestone spoke so much of during our meeting in New
York. You have safely recovered from that most unfortunate accident, Mr.
Ralestone? But of course, your presence here is my answer. And how do
you like Louisiana, Miss Ralestone?" His eyes behind his gold-rimmed
eyeglasses sparkled as he tilted his head a fraction toward Ricky as if
to hear the clearer.

"Well enough. Though we've seen very little of it yet, Mr. LeFleur."

"When you have seen Pirate's Haven," he replied, "you have seen much of
Louisiana."

"But we're forgetting our manner