This was all plain enough, but what had become of Kirby, of the two women--Eloise, and the quadroon mother?
I searched the cabin without uncovering the slightest trace of their presence, or finding a single article which could be associated with them.

Kirby himself must have fled the scene of the tragedy immediately--without even pausing long enough to turn his companion over to ascertain the nature of his wound.

Had something occurred to frighten him?
Had the fellow fled alone back to a waiting boat at the shore, perchance seriously injured himself in the melee, or had he secured the two women, and, reckless as to all else, driven them along with him to some place of concealment until they could be transported down the river?
Nothing could answer these questions; no discovery enabled me to lift the veil.

Uncertain what to do, or how to act, I could only return to the waiting girl and the negro to tell them what I had found.
They listened as though scarcely comprehending, Sam uttering little moans of horror, and appearing helpless from fright, but Rene quiet, merely exhibiting her emotion in the whiteness of her face and quickened breathing.

Her eyes, wide-open, questioning, seemed to sense my uncertainty.