"We have discovered, beyond a doubt, that the negro Sandy Campbell, now in custody, did not commit this robbery and murder, but that it was perpetrated by some unknown man, who has fled from the city. Our venerable and distinguished fellow townsman, Mr. Delamere, in whose employment this Campbell has been for many years, will vouch for his character, and states, furthermore, that Campbell was with him all last night, covering any hour at which this crime could have been committed."
"If Mr. Delamere will swear to that," said some one in the crowd, "the negro should not be lynched."
There were murmurs of dissent. The preparations had all been made. There would be great disappointment if the lynching did not occur.
"Let Mr. Delamere swear, if he wants to save the nigger," came again from the crowd.
"Certainly," assented Carteret. "Mr. Delamere can have no possible objection to taking the oath. Is there a notary public present, or a justice of the peace?"
A man stepped forward. "I am a justice of the peace," he announced.
"Very well, Mr. Smith," said Carteret, recognizing the speaker. "With your permission, I will formulate the oath, and Mr. Delamere may repeat it after me, if he will. I solemnly swear,"—
"I solemnly swear,"—
Mr. Delamere's voice might have come from the tomb, so hollow and unnatural did it sound.
"So help me God,"—