“The knife is aimed and here’s the paper by which you can throw your person on that knife. Is it of such moment that it cut into your own heart, that you stand and let it give death to him?”
“I give up! I give up, Mister! I can’t let nobody murder him. Nobody ever put it that way to me. Give me that paper and let me git to him fer jest one minute to-morrow,” she made answer to me as she seized the paper and pencil and began to write with the paper spread beside her upon the step.
“I will myself send you in my car with good black Kizzie to see Timms to-morrow, Mary,” I promised her while she wrote.
“I got ter get my arms around his neck once more ’fore he kills me fer telling,” she answered as she signed her name to the paper and handed it to me.
“Place those arms in that position, Mary, before telling him of your action and all will be well,” I advised of her with much wisdom.
“Will that do, Mister?” she asked with anxiety as I began to fold the paper.
On that paper she had written:
"Hen Timms had locked me in the room and was forcing me when Gabe broke in and got me away from him. He had to bust his head with a flatiron to make him let go of me. I am a good woman.
Mary Brown"
“Yes, good Mary, this will shield Timms from that knife, I feel a certainty, and I will send for you and see that you go to an interview with him at ten o’clock of the to-morrow morning. And now good night, with great respect to you for a brave woman,” I said as I rose to my feet.
“Who are you, Mister, that have spoke to my heart like they ain’t nobody spoke to its suffering yet, though you ain’t said many words and them is curious like?” she asked of me as I prepared to take a hurried departure.