“Who is it?” inquired the half-clad man, impassively.

“Caroline Siner; she’s been taken with a—­”

The physician lifted his light a trifle in an effort to see Peter.

“Lemme see:  she’s that fat nigger woman that lives in a three-roomed house—­”

“I’ll show you the way,” said Peter.  “She’s very ill.”

The half-dressed man shook his head.

“No, Ca’line Siner owes me a five-dollar doctor’s bill already.  Our county medical association made a rule that no niggers should—­”

With a drying mouth, Peter Siner stared at the man of medicine.

“But, my God, Doctor,” gasped the son, “I’ll pay you—­”

“Have you got the money there in your pocket?” asked Jallup, impassively.

A sort of chill traveled deliberately over Peter’s body and shook his voice.

“N-no, but I can get it—­”

“Yes, you can all get it,” stated the physician in dull irritation.  “I’m tired of you niggers running up doctors’ bills nobody can collect.  You never have more than the law allows; your wages never get big enough to garnishee.”  His voice grew querulous as he related his wrongs.  “No, I’m not going to see Ca’line Siner.  If she wants me to visit her, let her send ten dollars to cover that and back debts, and I’ll—­” The end of his sentence was lost in the closing of his door.  The light he carried declined from a beam to a twinkling here and there, and then vanished in blackness.  Dr. Jallup’s house became dead again.  The little porch light in its glass box might have been a candle burning before a tomb.

Peter Siner stood at the fence, licking his dry lips, with nerves vibrating like a struck bell.  He pushed himself slowly away from the top plank and found his legs so weak that he could hardly walk.  He moved slowly, back down the unseen street.  The dog he had disturbed gave a few last growls and settled into silence.

Peter moved along, wetting his dry lips, and stirring feebly among his dazed thoughts, hunting some other plan of action.  There was a tiny burning spot on the left side of his occiput.  It felt like a heated cambric needle which had been slipped into his scalp.  Then he realized that he must go home, get ten dollars, and bring them back to Dr. Jallup.  He started to run, but almost toppled over on his leaden legs.

He plodded through the darkness, retracing the endless trail to Niggertown.  As he passed a dark mass of shrubbery and trees, he recalled his mother’s advice to ask aid of Captain Renfrew.  It was the old Renfrew place that Peter was passing.

The negro hesitated, then turned in at the gate in the bare hope of obtaining the ten dollars at once.  Inside the gate Peter’s feet encountered the scattered bricks of an old walk.  The negro stood and called Captain Renfrew’s name in a guarded voice.  He was not at all sure of his action.

Peter had called twice and was just about to go when a lamp appeared around the side of the house on a long portico that extended clear around the building.  Bathed in the light of the lamp which he held over his head, there appeared an old man wearing a worn dressing gown.