"Well, uncle," said Webster, as the old man caught up to him—"did you speak to me?"
"You'se de man dat I 'dressed, sah—done you know me?" said the old fellow, peering anxiously in the face of the detective.
"No, I don't remember you," said Webster, determined to ascertain whether the old darky did know him; "where have you ever seen me?"
"In Washington, sah," replied Uncle Gallus; "don' you remember you saw me at Majah Allen's, when I was dah libin wid Missus Morton?"
Webster looked at the negro a moment, and then, feeling assured of the friendliness of his interlocutor, he said:
"Your face does seem familiar to me; what is your name?"
"Dey calls me Uncle Gallus, sah," answered the old fellow.
"Oh, yes," said Webster, "now I remember you."
"Golly, massa," grinned Uncle Gallus, "wen I seed you gib it to Bill Zigler dis mo'nin', I dun knowed you right away, but I wouldn't say nuffin' for de world, fo' I knowed you was a pullin' de wool ober his eyes."
Knowing full well that he had nothing to fear from Uncle Gallus, he talked with him good-naturedly on various topics, and in the course of the conversation he learned that he was no longer with Mrs. Morton, having been disposed of by her, some time before, and that he was now being used by the Confederate government to work upon the fortifications. Not deeming it advisable to remain long in conversation with the old darky on the streets, he told him that he would see him in a day or two, and placing a coin in the old man's hand, he bade him good-night.