"Do you remember anything else about how the bearded man looked?"
"Naw, suh, 'cep' he look' jes' like dis Mistuh Morley; dat's all I know, boss."
Braceway got to his feet.
"All right, Roddy," he said heartily; "you're a good boy. Here's your dollar."
Roddy rolled his white eyeballs toward the ceiling and bent his black face floorward.
"Gawd bless you, boss! You is one good——"
"And here's another dollar, if you can keep your mouth shut about this until I tell you to open it. Can you do that?"
Roddy conveyed the assurance of his ability to remain dumb until a considerable time after the sounding of Gabriel's trump.
"See that you do. If you don't, I might have to arrest you after all."
When the negro had gone, Braceway stood at the window and, with glance turned toward the street, saw nothing of what was passing there. He was reviewing the facts—or possible facts—that had just come to him. Restlessness took hold of him. He fell to pacing the length of the room with long, quick strides. It seemed that, in the labour of forcing his brain to its highest activity, he called on every fibre and muscle of his physique. His cheeks were flushed; his eyes, hard and brilliant, snapped.