fore now, Sandy. My grandson is a
genuine Delamere, is he not, Sandy?"

"Yas, suh, yas, suh," returned Sandy, with a lack of enthusiasm which he
tried to conceal from his master. "An' I s'pose ef he hadn' gone
fishin' so soon dis mawnin', he'd 'a' be'n lookin' after me, suh."

"It has been my love for him and your care of me, Sandy," said the old
gentleman tremulously, "that have kept me alive so long; but now explain
to me everything concerning this distressing matter, and I shall then be
able to state your case to better advantage."

"Well, suh," returned Sandy, "I mought's well tell de whole tale an' not
hol' nothin' back. I wuz kind er lonesome las' night, an' sence I be'n
tu'ned outen de chu'ch on account er dat cakewalk I didn' go ter, so
he'p me God! I didn' feel like gwine ter prayer-meetin', so I went
roun' ter see Solomon Williams, an' he wa'n't home, an' den I walk' down
street an' met Josh Green, an' he ax' me inter Sam Taylor's place, an' I
sot roun' dere wid Josh till 'bout 'leven o'clock, w'en I sta'ted back
home. I went straight ter de house, suh, an' went ter bed an' ter sleep
widout sayin' a wo'd ter a single soul excep' Mistuh Tom, who wuz
settin' up readin' a book w'en I come in. I wish I may drap dead in my
tracks, suh, ef dat ain't de God's truf, suh, eve'y wo'd of it!"

"I believe every word of it, Sandy; now tell me about the clothes that
you are said to have been found cleaning, and the suspicious articles
that were found in your room?"

"Dat's w'at beats me, Mars John," replied Sandy, shaking his head
mournfully. "Wen I lef home las' night after supper, my clo's wuz all
put erway in de closet in my room, folded up on de she'f ter keep de
moths out. Dey wuz my good clo's,--de blue coat dat you wo' ter de
weddin' fo'ty years ago, an' dem dere plaid pants I gun Mistuh Cohen fo'
dollars fer three years ago; an' w'en I looked in my closet dis mawnin',
suh, befo' I got ready ter sta't fer Belleview, dere wuz my clo's layin'
on de flo', all muddy an' crumple' up, des lack somebody had wo' 'em in
a fight! Somebody e'se had wo' my clo's,--er e'se dere'd be'n some
witchcraf, er some sort er devilment gwine on dat I can't make out, suh,
ter save my soul!"

"There was no witchcraft, Sandy, but that there was some deviltry might
well be. Now, what other negro, who might have been mistaken for you,
could have taken your clothes? Surely no one about the house?"

"No, suh, no, suh. It couldn't 'a' be'