epitude; but the attorney's steady prolonged
gaze disconcerted him.

"You have no interest, then, in discovering the wretch who murdered
your master? That is rather suspicious."

"What ain't 'spicious to you, Mars Lennox? It comes as natchal to you
to 'spicion folks, as to eat or sleep, and it's your trade. You believe
I know something that I haven't tole; but I swear I done give up
everything to Mars Alfred; and if my heart was turned inside out, and
scraped with a fine-tooth comb, it wouldn't be no cleaner than what it
is. I know if I was lying you would ketch me, and I should own up
quick; 'cause your match doesn't go about in human flesh; but all the
lancets and all the doctors can't git no blood out'en a turnup."

"You are quite willing, then, to see General Darrington's granddaughter
suffer for the crime?"

"'Fore Gord! Mars Lennox, you don't tote fair! 'Pears to me you are
riding two horses. Which side is you on?"

"Always on the side of justice and truth, and it is to help your poor
young mistress that I came to see you; but it seems you are too
superannuated to stretch out your hand and save her."

"Ain't you aiming to prove she killed old marster? That's what you sot
out to do; and tarrapin's claws are slippery, compared to your grip,
when you take holt."

The old negro stood with his white head thrown back, and unfeigned
perplexity printed on his wrinkled features, while he scanned the swart
face, where a heavy frown gathered.

"I set out this morning to find a faithful, old family servant, whose
devotion has never before been questioned; but evidently I have wasted
my confidence as well as my time. Where is Dyce? She is worth a hundred
superannuated cowards."

"Don't call no names, Mars Lennox. If there's one mean thing I nachally
despises as a stunnin' insult, it's being named white-livered; and my
Confederate record is jest as good as if I wore three gilt stars on my
coat collar. You might say I was a liar and a thief, and maybe I would
take it as a joke; but don't call Bedney Darrington no coward! It
bruises my feelins mor'n I'le stand. Lem'me tell you the Gord's truth;
argufying with lie-yers is wuss than shootin' at di-dappers, and that
is sport I don't hanker after. I ain't spry enuff to keep up with the
devil, when you are whipping him around the stump; and I ain't such a
forsaken idjut as to jump in the dark. Tell me straight out what you
want me to do. Tote fair, Mars Lennox."

"I am a