edunt min' 'bout sayin' eny ting 'bout
dis. I aint gwine ter say nothin' 'bout yer ter skanderlize yer. I am
gwine ter nail up de doh 'twixt you an' me. You aint no wife er min' fur
Bud an me aint got de same blood. He kilt er 'oman."

Mrs. Harper looked steadily at her husband, her anger gone, now that she
understood all. She leaned forward and parted her lips as if to speak.
She seemed to take a second thought and slowly leaned back in her chair.
It was evident that a debate was going on in her mind.

"No, he talks too much," said she to herself. She adjusted her
spectacles, picked up her knitting and resumed work, a gentle look of
forgiveness upon her face.

Silas Harper with bowed head, and shoulders more stooped than common,
walked from the room. Procuring a hammer and nails he soon had the
entrance from his room to that of his wife securely barred. And every
lick that he struck was like unto driving a nail into his own heart, for
he loved Dilsy, the love of his youth, the companion of his earlier
struggles after slavery, the joint purchaser of their four-room cottage,
and the mother of the two boys whom he had hitherto regarded as his
sons.

CHAPTER XVIII.

_Mists That Vanish._

In his far away peaceful Northern home, Norfleet, friend of Ramon
Mansford, received the following letter:

"MY DEAR NORFLEET: I am about at the end of one of the most
shocking and most mystifying affairs known to the human race.
In keeping with my resolve I disappeared into the Negro race
for the purpose of fathoming the mystery of the murder of my
beloved Alene. The fact that I could so disappear is one of
far-reaching significance. It shows what an awful predicament
the Negroes are in. Any white criminal has the race at his
mercy. By dropping into the Negro race to commit a crime and
immediately thereafter rejoining the white race, he has a most
splendid opportunity to escape. And men who commit the darker
crimes are not failing to take advantage of the open door; but
I picked up my pen to tell you my weird story.

"Well, I actually became a boarder in the home of Aunt Dilsy,
the mother of the man accused of murdering my Alene. By
mingling with the Negroes I came in contact with three
persistent beliefs which I investigated.

"First of all, the Negroes were practically a unit in holding
that Bud Harper had not committed the crim