Alone in my room I sat, with the window shades pulled down, waiting for the coming of another day. And for what end? To meet the gaze of vulgar eyes. The tavern bells had rung the supper hour, and doors were closing about the public square. I heard the "haw haw" and the shuffling dance of negroes on the pavement. I heard Washington's step on the stair and I lighted the gas and waited, for now he was not an unwelcome visitor. He tapped at the door like a small bird pecking on a tree. I bade him come in, and as he entered he dropped his hat on the floor.

"Don't do that," I commanded, "don't give me any more affectation. You despise your father's dialect but you preserve his tricks of slavish humility."

"Humility is more the virtue of the Christian than the trick of the slave, Mr. Belford," he replied. "But tell me why you are so free and simple when you talk to other people and so—pardon me if I use the word theatric—so theatric with me."

"Because you rob me of my naturalness and compel me to strut. But let me be natural now. Are you just from the house?"

"Yes, I came straight down here."

"Had the Senator returned?"

"Yes, but he soon went away again—after Mr. Estell came."

"Did you see them meet?"

"No, I had gone out to help the woman bring in the clothes because it looked like rain."

"And did the woman tell you anything about Mrs. Estell?"

"That she had locked herself in her room was all."

"And you didn't hear any talk between the Senator and Estell?"

"Only at the gate when the Senator drove off. Then he said: 'Don't look for me until you see me.' A boy went with him to bring the buggy back."

"Where could he have gone?"

"To take the train for New Orleans, to look for his man. He had a telegram."

"And what did Estell say?"

"He swore as the Senator drove. 'By God,' he cried, 'you have gone after the wrong man.' But perhaps I ought not to have told you this."

I strove to be calm, but almost in a rage I was now walking up and down the room.

"Yes, you should. And the imbecile said that. He ought to have his lying old tongue torn out."

"Be cautious, Mr. Belford. The man—"

"The man what?" I demanded.

"May think he has a cause. Wait a moment, please. A cause to believe that you are in the young woman's heart, and what more would he need to make him bitter toward you? Be reasonable."

"You are right, Washington; you are right. But when we meet, what then?"

"You must not meet."

"But we might."

"You must go away."

"What, to blast her name?"

"No, to save a life. Perhaps two lives."

"I will not go away. There will be but one life to forfeit—mine."

"Would that save her name, Mr. Belford?"

"Look here, you don't mean that the people believe that newspaper's insinuation."

"They don't. Representatives of the best families have called to show their faith, but what would they think if Estell should shoot you?"

"And what would they think if I should run away? No, I will stay."

"Then I have nothing more to say, Mr. Belford."

He strode out, catching up his hat at the door, and I counted the steps as he trod down the stairs.

Early the next morning I walked out from the town, but at no time did I turn toward the Senator's house. I went down the road that led through the cypress land, into the deep silence of the swamp. I passed the house of the Notorious Bugg, and I saw it trembling (a mere fancy, of course) with the shake of the aguish sons-in-law. A road, impassable except in the driest of seasons, wound about among deep pools of yellow slime. The ground shook under my careful tread, and the slightest jar was sufficient to disturb an acre of spongy desolation. I sat on a log with the feeling that no eye could see me. Sometimes the silence was so strained that it sang in my ear; sometimes I was startled by the flapping and the shriek of a gaunt bird, skimming the surface of the ooze. In this creepy solitude I took myself to task. Behind an error of the heart there stands a sophist, a Libanius, to offer a specious consolation—a voice ever ready to say, "It was not your fault; you do not create your own desires and neither can you control them." This is true enough, but a man can control his actions. I should have gone away, for the commonest of sense had pointed out the weakness, the crime, of remaining. And what had I hoped for? To tell her that I would wait, with a hope ever warm in my heart. I could not see a crime in that. But I could not tell her—she would not permit me to lead up to so embarrassing a subject. Washington was right. It was my duty to go away, not to save myself, but to keep Estell's hands free of blood.

Strong in my resolve, I walked briskly toward the town, and, coming out of the swamp, I was still strong, but my heart fluttered when from a rise of ground I saw the Senator's house, far away. To the left of the road lay a piece of land, wild with briers and a growth of new timber, a thicket checkered with cattle paths. Up the road I saw a man coming, and, as he drew nearer, I recognized the slouching figure of Bugg Peters. I did not care to meet him, to be compelled to answer or evade his questions, so I turned aside into the thicket and brushed my way along a narrow path. On a sudden I leaped aside into a tangle of bushes. A pistol or gun had fired it seemed almost at my elbow. I listened, but heard not a sound. I thought I saw smoke arising off to my left, but it might have been mist, for the day was dark with vapors and low-hanging clouds. I was uneasy, and not knowing whither my path might lead, I turned back; and just as I reached the road a man and a boy, struggling through the undergrowth, ran past me. They said nothing, but, looking back with fright in their faces, ran off toward town. I looked about for Peters, but did not see him. I wondered what it all could mean.

Upon entering the town I avoided the busier streets, and passed through quiet by-ways. At the foot of the rear stairway leading to my room stood a man.

"Hold on," he said, and then shouted to someone above. A man came running down the steps.

"What's wanted?" I inquired.

"You," replied one of the men. "Come with us."

"But what do you want?"

"Come on quietly and you'll find out. Do you want us to handcuff you?"

I went with them, stupefied with astonishment. They would answer no questions. They took me to the jail, and then I was informed that I had been arrested on a warrant sworn out by J. W. Hilliard, charging me with the murder of Thomas Estell. In a daze I was pushed into a cell. I couldn't think; I had an impression that I had lost a part—the serious part—of my mind. I looked at the little things about me, a burnt match on the floor, a cobweb in an upper corner. I took up a tin candlestick and picked at a ridge of sperm; I sat down upon a cot, wondering if it would break under me, and I felt it shake and spring like the spongeland in the swamp. I heard the tavern bells ring, and I heard the tradesmen slamming their doors. And I even said to myself, "I shall be horror-stricken when I realize it all."

There came footsteps down the corridor, and I heard someone say, "All right, I won't stay long. Turn up your lamp. I can't see him."

The blaze of a lamp hanging in the corridor crept higher and I saw the shoemaker standing in front of my grated door.

"Mr. Belford, this is rough."

"Yes, it will be when I am able to believe it."

"I reckon it's so, and it won't take you long to believe it. But if you ever had cause to be cool, you've got that cause now. Brighten up. Several people have called to see you—the nigger preacher, too—but they couldn't get in."

"How did you get in?"

"The jailer owes me. Yes, and I worked my prerogative because I thought you'd like to see even a shoemaker."

"Tell me—tell me all about it."

"Why, Hilliard and his son was coming through the thicket. They heard a pistol close to them, they stumbled on Estell lying dead in the path, and they saw you making for the big road. And that slab-sided Peters says he saw you turn into the thicket. He heard the shot, and he ran in to see what was up, but couldn't find anything. It is a shame the way both those fellows were permitted to stand around and talk about it. It has made them mighty important. I dangled a debt over Bugg's head and silenced him, but I couldn't do anything with Hilliard. That scoundrel paid me about two months ago. Bad! It puts the Senator in an awkward position. He can't express an opinion, you know. Good thing he's away, gunning after Petticord. Oh, Bolanyo is coming up. They found Estell with his head almost blown off. Seems as if somebody must have poked a pistol out of the bushes almost against the side of his head. I am telling you all this so you may in a measure be prepared at the inquest to-morrow morning. His watch and some small change was found, so it wasn't a murder for gain. No pistol was found on him, so he wasn't expecting a fight."

"Look here, Vark, you don't believe I killed that man?"

"I haven't said so, but I'll tell you this—the people believe it. You know it takes a great deal of argument to prove a stranger innocent and mighty little evidence to show him guilty. In an old community it's a great crime to be a stranger. Well, I must go. The best thing you can do is to keep your head cool."