“Now tell us who it was that you let in last night.”
“The doctor there, sar,” answered Bob, without a moment’s hesitation.
“My good friend, you never were more mistaken in your life. I can prove an alibi. I was six miles from the spot at the hour you admitted the visitor,” said Dr. Burney.
Old Bob’s jaws dropped and his eyes opened.
“Is that so, sar?” he asked, in a piteous tone.
“Yes, that is so. Now try to recollect yourself and reflect whether you did not fall asleep and dream the whole thing.”
“No, marser! no, sar! it might a been de debbil, or it might a been a ghost, or it might a been a token of my death, but it warn’t no dream. Dis chile war too wide awake for dat!” exclaimed Bob, as his hair seemed to straighten out with a retrospective terror.
“Now see you here, Bob. Look at me, and tell me really whether the person you admitted, or think you admitted, resembled me,” said Dr. Burney.
“Lor’ forgive me, Marse Doctor, now I does look at you, sar, and calls up my memorandum, it seems to me as the—the—other one—was more taller and more darker complected than you is, sar. It must a been a spirit, sar, come to warn me as my days war numbered,” shuddered the old man.
“Fudge, old fellow! All our days are numbered, for that matter.—Colonel”—and here the doctor turned to address Justin—“you said that there was another witness in this case—who was it?”