to a free state looks bad for me, and that if I don’t find her for him, and that pretty soon, he will make trouble for me.  I never believed that story; I couldn’t believe she would be so dead to all motherly instincts as to come here, knowing the risk she would run of getting me into irremediable trouble.  And after all, here she is!  And I stupidly swore I would help find her, thinking it was a perfectly safe thing to promise.  If I venture to deliver her up, she—­she—­but how can I help myself?  I’ve got to do that or pay the money, and where’s the money to come from?  I—­I—­well, I should think that if he would swear to treat her kindly hereafter—­and she says, herself, that he is a good man—­and if he would swear to never allow her to be overworked, or ill fed, or—­”

A flash of lightning exposed Tom’s pallid face, drawn and rigid with these worrying thoughts.  Roxana spoke up sharply now, and there was apprehension in her voice.

“Turn up dat light!  I want to see yo’ face better.  Dah now—­lemme look at you.  Chambers, you’s as white as yo’ shirt!  Has you see dat man?  Has he be’n to see you?”

“Ye-s.”

“When?”

“Monday noon.”

“Monday noon!  Was he on my track?”

“He—­well, he thought he was.  That is, he hoped he was.  This is the bill you saw.”  He took it out of his pocket.

“Read it to me!”

She was panting with excitement, and there was a dusky glow in her eyes that Tom could not translate with certainty, but there seemed to be something threatening about it.  The handbill had the usual rude woodcut of a turbaned Negro woman running, with the customary bundle on a stick over her shoulder, and the heading in bold type, “$100 REWARD.”  Tom read the bill aloud—­at least the part that described Roxana and named the master and his St. Louis address and the address of the Fourth street agency; but he left out the item that applicants for the reward might also apply to Mr. Thomas Driscoll.

“Gimme de bill!”

Tom had folded it and was putting it in his pocket.  He felt a chilly streak creeping down his back, but said as carelessly as he could: 

“The bill?  Why, it isn’t any use to you, you can’t read it.  What do you want with it?”

“Gimme de bill!” Tom gave it to her, but with a reluctance which he could not entirely disguise.  “Did you read it ALL to me?”

“Certainly I did.”

“Hole up yo’ han’ en swah to it.”

Tom did it.  Roxana put the bill carefully away in her pocket, with her eyes fixed upon Tom’s face all the while; then she said: 

“Yo’s lyin’!”

“What would I want to lie about it for?”