For some days Mr. Graeme took to coming home earlier than usual, and one evening he was rewarded. Just after his arrival little Ben came in, and, climbing up to his cigar box, took out several cigars, and silently withdrew. As soon as he had disappeared his father stepped to the telephone, and, calling up the detective agency, asked that an officer be sent around to his house immediately. A few minutes later the officer arrived, and after a few words with him Mr. Graeme stationed him at the back gate and strolled back toward the kitchen. As he softly approached the door he heard voices within-one of them his little boy\'s voice, the other the deep, unctuous tones of a negro man. The child was begging the latter to blow smoke-wreaths, and the man was bartering with him.

“Well, you must get me more cigars; remember what I told you—six wreaths for one cigar.”

At this moment the mammy evidently came in, for Mr. Graeme heard the man caution the child, and heard her voice for the first time,

“What dat you telling dat chile?” she demanded, suspiciously.

“Nothing. I was just entertaining him by blowing a few of those artistic wreaths he admires so much. My good friends keep me in cigars. It is one of the few consolations in a hard-working pastor\'s life. Well, sister, I called around to tell you your investment promises to be even more remunerative than I expected—and to tell you if you have any more, or even can borrow any, to let me place it as you did the other. I can guarantee to double it for you in a short time.”

“I ain\' got any more—an\' ain\' got nobody to lend me none.”

“Well, ah! Could n \'t you get any from your employer?” He lowered his voice; but Graeme caught the words. “You could raise money on the silver—and they would never know it. Besides, they owe it to you for all the work you have done without payment. Think how many years you worked for them as a slave without pay.”

“Now, I ain\' gwine to do dat!” exclaimed the old woman.

At this moment Graeme softly opened the door. The mammy was standing with her back to him, and in one chair, tilted back with his feet in another chair, was a large and unctuous-looking negro of middle age, in all the glory of a black broadcloth coat and a white tie. He was engaged at the moment in blowing small wreaths, while little Ben stood by and gazed at him with open-eyed wonder and delight.

At sight of Mr. Graeme, the preacher with a gulp, which sadly disturbed his last effort, rose to his feet. An expression of fear flitted across his face, then gave way to a crafty, half-insolent look.

“Good evening, sir,” he began, with an insinuating smile, not wholly free from uneasiness.

“Good evening, Amos. Mammy, will you kindly go to your mistress. Take the boy with you. Run along, son.”

The old woman with a half-scared air led the child out, and Mr. Graeme closed the door and turned back to the visitor, who looked much embarrassed.

“Take my cigars out of your pocket.”

The preacher\'s hand went involuntarily to his breast-pocket, and then came down.

“What! Your cigars out of my pocket? I have no cigars of yours, sir.” He spoke with slightly rising severity, as Mr. Graeme remained so calm.

“Oh, yes, you have. But no matter for the present. You had just as well leave them there for a moment. What are you doing, coming here all the time?”

“What am I doing?—Coming here? I am a minister of the Gawspel, sir, and I have a member of my congregation here, and I come to look after her welfare.”

“And to see that she gets recognition?”

“Suh?”—with a wince.

“And incidentally to rob me of my cigars, and her of her small savings”—pursued Mr. Graeme, calmly.

“Suh? Nor, suh, I has not done dat I will take my oath to it on the word of Almighty God.”

The veneer of his fine speech had all been dropped, and the Rev. Johnson was talking naturally enough now.

“What did you do with that money you took from her?”

“What did I do wid—? What money?”

Mr. Graeme showed impatience for the first time.

“The four hundred and fifty-five dollars you got from her. Was there more than that?”

At this point Mam\' Lyddy opened the door and came in. She looked somewhat mystified and rather disturbed, but she said nothing. She only took her stand, and with arms folded waited silent and observant.

The negro saw that Mr. Graeme knew of the fact and answered promptly.

“Oh! You are mistaken, sir. I have taken no money of her. You can ax her. She had a sum of money which I as a favor to her invested for her. You can ask the sister there. I supp............