He entered the house.  It was dark, except for a light in Tom Delamere’s room.  Sandy tapped softly at the door.

“Who’s there?” came Delamere’s voice, in a somewhat startled tone, after a momentary silence.

“It’s me, suh; Sandy.”

They both spoke softly.  It was the rule of the house when Mr. Delamere had retired, and though he was not at home, habit held its wonted sway.

“Just a moment, Sandy.”

Sandy waited patiently in the hall until the door was opened.  If the room showed any signs of haste or disorder, Sandy was too full of his own thoughts—­and other things—­to notice them.

“What do you want, Sandy,” asked Tom.

“Mistuh Tom,” asked Sandy solemnly, “ef I wuz in yo’ place, an’ you wuz in my place, an’ we wuz bofe in de same place, whar would I be?”

Tom looked at Sandy keenly, with a touch of apprehension.  Did Sandy mean anything in particular by this enigmatical inquiry, and if so, what?  But Sandy’s face clearly indicated a state of mind in which consecutive thought was improbable; and after a brief glance Delamere breathed more freely.

“I give it up, Sandy,” he responded lightly.  “That’s too deep for me.”

“’Scuse me, Mistuh Tom, but is you heared er seed anybody er anything come in de house fer de las’ ten minutes?”

“Why, no, Sandy, I haven’t heard any one.  I came from the club an hour ago.  I had forgotten my key, and Sally got up and let me in, and then went back to bed.  I’ve been sitting here reading ever since.  I should have heard any one who came in.”

“Mistuh Tom,” inquired Sandy anxiously, “would you ’low dat I’d be’n drinkin’ too much?”

“No, Sandy, I should say you were sober enough, though of course you may have had a few drinks.  Perhaps you’d like another?  I’ve got something good here.”

“No, suh, Mistuh Tom, no, suh!  No mo’ liquor fer me, suh, never!  When liquor kin make a man see his own ha’nt, it’s ’bout time fer dat man ter quit drinkin’, it sho’ is!  Good-night, Mistuh Tom.”

As Sandy turned to go, Delamere was struck by a sudden and daring thought.  The creature of impulse, he acted upon it immediately.

“By the way, Sandy,” he exclaimed carelessly, “I can pay you back that money you were good enough to lend me this afternoon.  I think I’ll sleep better if I have the debt off my mind, and I shouldn’t wonder if you would.  You don’t mind having it in gold, do you?”

“No, indeed, suh,” replied Sandy.  “I ain’ seen no gol’ fer so long dat de sight er it’d be good fer my eyes.”

Tom counted out ten five-dollar gold pieces upon the table at his elbow.

“And here’s another, Sandy,” he said, adding an eleventh, “as interest for the use of it.”

“Thank y’, Mistuh Tom.  I didn’t spec’ no in-trus’, but I don’ never ‘fuse gol’ w’en I kin git it.”

“And here,” added Delamere, reaching carelessly into a bureau drawer, “is a little old silk purse that I’ve had since I was a boy.  I’ll put the gold in it, Sandy; it will hold it very nicely.”