As this passenger turned his head and looked back toward Miller, the latter saw a broad-shouldered, burly white man, and recognized in his square-cut jaw, his coarse, firm mouth, and the single gray eye with which he swept Miller for an instant with a scornful glance, a well-known character of Wellington, with whom the reader has already made acquaintance in these pages.  Captain McBane wore a frock coat and a slouch hat; several buttons of his vest were unbuttoned, and his solitaire diamond blazed in his soiled shirt-front like the headlight of a locomotive.

The conductor in his turn looked back at Miller, and retraced his steps.  Miller braced himself for what he feared was coming, though he had hoped, on account of his friend’s presence, that it might be avoided.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the conductor, addressing Dr. Burns, “but did I understand you to say that this man was your servant?”

“No, indeed!” replied Dr. Burns indignantly.  “The gentleman is not my servant, nor anybody’s servant, but is my friend.  But, by the way, since we are on the subject, may I ask what affair it is of yours?”

“It’s very much my affair,” returned the conductor, somewhat nettled at this questioning of his authority.  “I’m sorry to part friends, but the law of Virginia does not permit colored passengers to ride in the white cars.  You’ll have to go forward to the next coach,” he added, addressing Miller this time.

“I have paid my fare on the sleeping-car, where the separate-car law does not apply,” remonstrated Miller.

“I can’t help that.  You can doubtless get your money back from the sleeping-car company.  But this is a day coach, and is distinctly marked ‘White,’ as you must have seen before you sat down here.  The sign is put there for that purpose.”

He indicated a large card neatly framed and hung at the end of the car, containing the legend, “White,” in letters about a foot long, painted in white upon a dark background, typical, one might suppose, of the distinction thereby indicated.

“You shall not stir a step, Miller,” exclaimed Dr. Burns wrathfully.  “This is an outrage upon a citizen of a free country.  You shall stay right here.”

“I’m sorry to discommode you,” returned the conductor, “but there’s no use kicking.  It’s the law of Virginia, and I am bound by it as well as you.  I have already come near losing my place because of not enforcing it, and I can take no more such chances, since I have a family to support.”

“And my friend has his rights to maintain,” returned Dr. Burns with determination.  “There is a vital principle at stake in the matter.”

“Really, sir,” argued the conductor, who was a man of peace and not fond of controversy, “there’s no use talking—­he absolutely cannot ride in this car.”

“How can you prevent it?” asked Dr. Burns, lapsing into the argumentative stage.