Some hours later Doctor Boyd stepped inside his hall and softly closed the front door. Quickly removing his hat and heavy cloak, he went directly into his back office and felt about in the dark for his match box. It was not to be found in its accustomed place, and an angry exclamation escaped the doctor. Apparently Martha Crane, his trusted old housekeeper, had taken advantage of his absence and tidied up his desk, an act of vandalism which always reduced Boyd to a state bordering on frenzy.
"Kin I help yo', suh?"
Doctor Boyd's right hand sought his hip pocket, and he faced in the direction from which the voice came. The intruder guessed his intention and spoke hastily.
"Fo' God's sake, doan shoot, suh. I'se Sam." And to confirm his statement he struck a match and held it so that his features were visible by the flickering flame.
"Well, come in and light this confounded burner," exclaimed the doctor testily, as his fingers slowly relaxed their hold on his weapon. "Next time don't announce your presence so dramatically, Sam, or you may get hurt."
"Yessir." The negro stepped with alacrity through the doorway which led to the front office, and applied his half burned match to the gas jet over the doctor's desk. "Miss Martha done told me ter wait in dar."
"Confound the woman!" The doctor seated himself in his armchair and contemplated the neatly arranged papers and ornaments on his desk in despair. "Where is she?"
"Done gone out," announced Sam briefly. "I tole her I'd be 'sponsible fo' de house 'til she cum back."
"Where were you to-night, Sam? Miss Nancy expected you to meet her at the Perry's."
"I went dar, suh, but I seed a lot ob men a-hangin' 'roun' watchin' de place, so I jes' cum on heah, thinkin' p'raps Miss Nancy mite be wif yo'. I done got de papah she wanted."