ovost-Marshal Kennedy's spies, looking for traitors.
But what do you mean?--that I should get a doctor to--to--put him out of
the way?"

"Dats jes it, honey!" said the old woman, again rubbing her hands. "He
is in de way--put him out and have de ole man's money."

"Impossible!" spoke Egbert Crawford, in a tone which would have told a
close observer--and probably told the old woman--that he only meant: "I
do not see how to do it."

"Give um somefin," graphically said the crone.

"What!" spoke the lawyer, almost in as loud a tone as he had before
used, and rising from his chair in apparent indignation.

"Sit down, honey," said the old woman, with the same sneer in her voice
that had before been apparent. "Oh, I know you is a good man and
wouldn't do nuffin to hurt Cousin Dickey. Didn't kill his dog, nor
nuffin, did you, honey, a good wile ago, jes because you didn't like
_him_. Don't do nuffin now, if you don't want to! Let him have de girl,
an de ole man's money, an--"

"Woman!" said Egbert Crawford, rising altogether this time, and pacing
the floor like a man a good deal unquieted. "I hate Dick Crawford, and
you know it. I want Uncle John's money and I want Mary, and he is in my
way in both cases. You may as well know the whole truth--I hate him
enough to 'put him out of the way,' as we have both called it, but the
thing is impossible. Any doctor to whom I should speak would have me
arrested at once, for though they poison they do not wish to be
suspected of such operations; and there is no other way. He will get
well and go up to West Falls, and then all is over!" and the lawyer sunk
his head on his breast as if he had been the most ill-used of
individuals.

"Not while your ole Aunty libs, Marser Egbert, if you dar do what she
tells you!"

The words struck some chord previously active in the brain of Crawford.
He glanced up at the string of articles on the line of twine, then
stopped short in his walk, before the old woman.

"Well?"

"Oh, you see dem tings, and you is coming to it, is you, honey!"
chuckled the crone. "You 'member what Aunt Synchy is, now?"

"Yes, I remember," said Crawford, "though I forget the name. You are an
O--Ogee--Odee--no, O--"

"_An Obi woman!_" said the crone, rising and stretching herself to her
full height, with a look that was commanding in spite of her squalor.
"You 'member somefin, but not much. We be great people in Jamaica. Up in
de hills 'bove Spanish Town, we are de ki