fidence that the second was Sandy. There had been, he
recalled, about one of the men--he had not been then nor was he now able
to tell which--something vaguely familiar, and yet seemingly discordant
to whichever of the two it was, or, as it seemed to him now, to any man
of that race. His mind reverted to the place where he had last seen
Sandy, and then a sudden wave of illumination swept over him, and filled
him with a thrill of horror. The cakewalk,--the dancing,--the
speech,--they were not Sandy's at all, nor any negro's! It was a white
man who had stood in the light of the street lamp, so that the casual
passer-by might see and recognize in him old Mr. Delamere's servant. The
scheme was a dastardly one, and worthy of a heart that was something
worse than weak and vicious.

Ellis resolved that the negro should not, if he could prevent it, die
for another's crime; but what proof had he himself to offer in support
of his theory? Then again, if he denounced Tom Delamere as the murderer,
it would involve, in all probability, the destruction of his own hopes
with regard to Clara. Of course she could not marry Delamere after the
disclosure,--the disgraceful episode at the club would have been enough
to make that reasonably certain; it had put a nail in Delamere's coffin,
but this crime had driven it in to the head and clinched it. On the
other hand, would Miss Pemberton ever speak again to the man who had
been the instrument of bringing disgrace upon the family? Spies,
detectives, police officers, may be useful citizens, but they are rarely
pleasant company for other people. We fee the executioner, but we do not
touch his bloody hand. We might feel a certain tragic admiration for
Brutus condemning his sons to death, but we would scarcely invite Brutus
to dinner after the event. It would harrow our feelings too much.

Perhaps, thought Ellis, there might be a way out of the dilemma. It
might be possible to save this innocent negro without, for the time
being, involving Delamere. He believed that murder will out, but it need
not be through his initiative. He determined to go to the jail and
interview the prisoner, who might give such an account of himself as
would establish his innocence beyond a doubt. If so, Ellis would exert
himself to stem the tide of popular fury. If, as a last resort, he
could save Sandy only by denouncing Delamere, he would do his duty, let
it cost him what it might.

The gravity of his errand was not