The iron bolt rattled¹ in the lock, the door of a cell swung open, and when Mr. Delamere had entered was quickly closed again.  
"Well, Sandy!"
 
"Oh, Mars John! Is you fell from hebben ter he'p me out er here? I prayed de Lawd ter sen' you, an' He answered my prayer, an' here you is, Mars John,—here you is! Oh, Mars John, git me out er dis place!"
 
"Tut, tut, Sandy!" answered his master; "of course I'll get you out. That's what I've come for. How in the world did such a mistake ever happen? You would no more commit such a crime than I would!"
 
"No, suh, 'deed I wouldn', an' you know I wouldn'! I wouldn' want ter bring no disgrace on de fam'ly dat raise' me, ner ter make no trouble fer you, suh; but here I is, suh, lock' up in jail, an' folks talkin' 'bout³ hangin' me fer somethin' dat never entered my min', suh. I swea' ter God I never thought er sech a thing!"
 
"Of course you didn't, Sandy," returned Mr. Delamere soothingly⁴; "and now the next thing, and the simplest thing, is to get you out of this. I'll speak to the officers, and at the preliminary hearing to-morrow I'll tell them all about you, and they will let you go. You won't mind spending one night in jail for your sins."
 
"No, suh, ef I wuz sho' I'd be 'lowed ter spen' it here. But dey say dey 're gwine ter lynch me ternight,—I kin² hear 'em talkin' f'm de winders er de cell, suh."
 
"Well, I say, Sandy, that they shall do no such thing! Lynch a man brought up by a Delamere, for a crime of which he is innocent? Preposterous⁵! I'll speak to the authorities and see that you are properly protected until this mystery is unraveled. If Tom had been here, he would have had you out before 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 conceal⁶ 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 distressing⁷ 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' den⁸ I walk' down street an' met Josh Green, an' he ax' me inter⁹ 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 moths¹⁰ 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' crumple¹¹' 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 witchcraft¹², 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'n Jeff, fer he wuz at Belleview wid you; an' it couldn't 'a' be'n Billy, fer he wuz too little ter wear my clo's; an' it couldn't 'a' be'n Sally, fer she's a 'oman. It's a myst'ry ter me, suh!"
 
"Have you no enemies? Is there any one in Wellington whom you imagine would like to do you an injury?"
 
"Not a livin' soul dat I knows of, suh. I've be'n tu'ned out'n de chu'ch, but I don' know who my enemy is dere, er ef it wuz all a mistake, like dis yer jailin' is; but de Debbil is in dis somewhar, Mars John,—an' I got my reasons fer sayin' so."
 
"What do you mean, Sandy?"
 
Sandy related his experience of the preceding evening: how he had seen the apparition¹³ preceding him to the house, and how he had questioned Tom upon the subject.
 
"There's some mystery here, Sandy," said Mr. Delamere reflectively. "Have you told me all, now, upon your honor? I am trying to save your life, Sandy, and I must be able to trust your word implicitly¹⁴. You must tell me every circumstance; a very little and seemingly unimportant bit of evidence may sometimes determine the issue of a great lawsuit¹⁵. There is one thing especially, Sandy: where did you get the gold which was found in your trunk?"
 
Sandy's face lit up with hopefulness.
 
"Why, Mars John, I kin 'splain dat part easy. Dat wuz money I had lent out, an' I got back f'm—But no, suh, I promise' not ter tell."
 
"Circumstances absolve¹⁶ you from your promise, Sandy. Your life is of more value to you than any other thing. If you will explain where you got the gold, and the silk purse that contained it, which is said to be Mrs. Ochiltree's, you will be back home before night."
 
Old Mr. Delamere's faculties¹⁷, which had been waning^{18<............}