Mr. Delamere's coachman, who, in accordance with instructions left by Miller¹, had brought the carriage around to the jail and was waiting anxiously at the nearest corner, drove up with some trepidation² as he saw his master emerge from the prison. The old gentleman entered the carriage and gave the order to be driven to the office of the Morning Chronicle. According to Jerry, the porter, whom he encountered at the door, Carteret was in his office, and Mr. Delamere, with the aid of his servant, climbed the stairs painfully and found the editor at his desk.  
"Carteret," exclaimed Mr. Delamere, "what is all this talk about lynching my man for murder and robbery and criminal assault? It's perfectly³ absurd! The man was raised by me; he has lived in my house forty years. He has been honest, faithful, and trustworthy. He would no more be capable of this crime than you would, or my grandson Tom. Sandy has too much respect for the family to do anything that would reflect disgrace upon it."
 
"My dear Mr. Delamere," asked Carteret, with an indulgent smile, "how could a negro possibly reflect discredit⁴ upon a white family? I should really like to know."
 
"How, sir? A white family raised him. Like all the negroes, he has been clay in the hands of the white people. They are what we have made them, or permitted them to become."
 
"We are not God, Mr. Delamere! We do not claim to have created these—masterpieces."
 
"No; but we thought to overrule God's laws, and we enslaved these people for our greed, and sought to escape the manstealer's curse by laying to our souls the flattering unction that we were making of barbarous negroes civilized⁵ and Christian⁶ men. If we did not, if instead of making them Christians⁷ we have made some of them brutes⁸, we have only ourselves to blame, and if these prey⁹ upon society, it is our just punishment! But my negroes, Carteret, were well raised and well behaved. This man is innocent of this offense¹⁰, I solemnly affirm, and I want your aid to secure his safety until a fair trial can be had."
 
"On your bare word, sir?" asked Carteret, not at all moved by this outburst.
 
Old Mr. Delamere trembled with anger, and his withered¹¹ cheek flushed darkly, but he restrained his feelings, and answered with an attempt at calmness:—
 
"Time was, sir, when the word of a Delamere was held as good as his bond, and those who questioned it were forced to maintain their skepticism upon the field of honor. Time was, sir, when the law was enforced in this state in a manner to command the respect of the world! Our lawyers, our judges, our courts, were a credit to humanity and civilization. I fear I have outlasted¹² my epoch,—I have lived to hear of white men, the most favored of races, the heirs of civilization, the conservators of liberty, howling like red Indians around a human being slowly roasting at the stake."
 
"My dear sir," said Carteret soothingly¹³, "you should undeceive yourself. This man is no longer your property. The negroes are no longer under our control, and with their emancipation¹⁴ ceased our responsibility. Their insolence¹⁵ and disregard for law have reached a point where they must be sternly rebuked¹⁶."
 
"The law," retorted Mr. Delamere, "furnishes a sufficient penalty for any crime, however heinous¹⁷, and our code is by no means lenient¹⁸. To my old-fashioned notions, death would seem an adequate punishment for any crime, and torture has been abolished in civilized countries for a hundred years. It would be better to let a crime go entirely¹⁹ unpunished, than to use it as a pretext²⁰ for turning the whole white population into a mob of primitive²¹ savages²², dancing in hellish glee around the mangled²³ body of a man who has never been tried for a crime. All this, however, is apart from my errand, which is to secure your assistance in heading off this mob until Sandy can have a fair hearing and an opportunity to prove his innocence²⁴."
 
"How can I do that, Mr. Delamere?"
 
"You are editor of the Morning Chronicle. The Chronicle is the leading newspaper of the city. This morning's issue practically suggested the mob; the same means will stop it. I will pay the expense of an extra edition, calling off the mob, on the ground that newly discovered evidence has shown the prisoner's innocence."
 
"But where is the evidence?" asked Carteret.
 
Again Mr.............