“I would give my life for Miss Kitty,” Rodgers’ deep voice carried conviction.
“An’ yo’ won’t let no harm come to her?”
“No.” The reply rang out clearly. Oscar’s harassed expression altered.
“Gawd bless yo’, Sah!” He touched Rogers’ hand reverently. “Ole Mandy an’ me, we’s needed help de worst way. Hadn’t nowhar to turn; now—” he drew a long breath of relief. “Now yo’ kin find Miss Kitty’s red coat—”
“Miss Kitty’s red coat?” echoed Rodgers, staring in astonishment at Oscar. “What in the world—”
“Yessir.” Oscar blinked rapidly. “Yo’ ’member dat dar coat Miss Kitty was so fond o’ wearin’?—I heard yo’ an’ she argyfying ’bout it bein’ pink ’stead o’ red.”
“I know the one you mean,” replied Rodgers impatiently. “Well, what about it?”
“It’s done gone!” Oscar raised his hand and dropped it in a gesture indicative of despair. “An’, Mister Rodgers, we’s got ter find dat ar coat fo’ de police.”
Rodgers stared at him for a full moment. There was no doubting Oscar’s sincerity. His face was beaded in perspiration and his eyes, twice their normal size, were alight with earnest appeal.
“Please, Sah, don’t ax me no mo’ questions,” he pleaded. “Jes’ find dat coat an’ we’ll know who killed ole Miss.”