XXII

HOW NOT TO PREVENT A LYNCHING

Dr. Miller, who had sat up late the night before with a difficult case at the hospital, was roused, about eleven o’clock, from a deep and dreamless sleep.  Struggling back into consciousness, he was informed by his wife, who stood by his bedside, that Mr. Watson, the colored lawyer, wished to see him upon a matter of great importance.

“Nothing but a matter of life and death would make me get up just now,” he said with a portentous yawn.

“This is a matter of life and death,” replied Janet.  “Old Mrs. Polly Ochiltree was robbed and murdered last night, and Sandy Campbell has been arrested for the crime,—­and they are going to lynch him!”

“Tell Watson to come right up,” exclaimed Miller, springing out of bed.  “We can talk while I’m dressing.”

While Miller made a hasty toilet Watson explained the situation.  Campbell had been arrested on the charge of murder.  He had been seen, during the night, in the neighborhood of the scene of the crime, by two different persons, a negro and a white man, and had been identified later while entering Mr. Delamere’s house, where he lived, and where damning proofs of his guilt had been discovered; the most important item of which was an old-fashioned knit silk purse, recognized as Mrs. Ochiltree’s, and several gold pieces of early coinage, of which the murdered woman was known to have a number.  Watson brought with him one of the first copies procurable of the extra edition of the Chronicle, which contained these facts and further information.

They were still talking when Mrs. Miller, knocking at the door, announced that big Josh Green wished to see the doctor about Sandy Campbell.  Miller took his collar and necktie in his hand and went downstairs, where Josh sat waiting.

“Doctuh,” said Green, “de w’ite folks is talkin’ ‘bout lynchin’ Sandy Campbell fer killin’ ole Mis’ Ochiltree.  He never done it, an’ dey oughtn’ ter be ’lowed ter lynch ’im.”

“They ought not to lynch him, even if he committed the crime,” returned Miller, “but still less if he didn’t.  What do you know about it?”

“I know he was wid me, suh, las’ night, at de time when dey say ole Mis’ Ochiltree wuz killed.  We wuz down ter Sam Taylor’s place, havin’ a little game of kyards an’ a little liquor.  Den we lef dere an’ went up ez fur ez de corner er Main an’ Vine Streets, where we pa’ted, an’ Sandy went ‘long to’ds home.  Mo’over, dey say he had on check’ britches an’ a blue coat.  When Sandy wuz wid me he had on gray clo’s, an’ when we sep’rated he wa’n’t in no shape ter be changin’ his clo’s, let ’lone robbin’ er killin’ anybody.”

“Your testimony ought to prove an alibi for him,” declared Miller.

“Dere ain’ gwine ter be no chance ter prove nothin’, ’less’n we kin do it mighty quick!  Dey say dey’re gwine ter lynch ’im ter-night,—­some on ‘em is talkin’ ‘bout burnin’ ‘im.  My idee is ter hunt up de niggers an’ git ’em ter stan’ tergether an’ gyard de jail.”