“But what has all this to do with the name of the little girl next door?  Whisper that, and tell me the rest afterward.”

“But, if Master Jack Dillard gits de ’state,” she proceeded, as though she had not heard my eager question, “wy, den Sabra Smif am as dead as a door-nail from dis time to de day ob judgment, an’ de ole man’ll have to git anoder ’fectionate companion.  I’se mity sorry for de poor ole soul, but I a’n’t gwine to put myself in Jack Dillard’s claws, not ef I knows myself.  He’s one ob dem young wite sort wat lubs de card-table, an’ don’t scriminate atween ole an’ young folks.  You see, he’s my masta’s nevy—­for de ole folks had no chillun but Miss May Jane, an’ she’s bin dead dis fifteen yeer, and bofe her chilluns dun follered her to de grabe, so dere is only Miss Polly Ann lef, and—­”

Here Mrs. Clayton groaned audibly, and, calling Dinah to her aid, broke up the tete-a-tete if such might justly have been called our interview.  It was not very long, however, before Dinah returned to my bedside, by Mrs. Clayton’s directions, to offer to comb out my hair, which was tangled beyond my skill to thread in my prostrate condition.  Yet, to make an effort so far as to rise and have this done, I knew would be of benefit to me.

We were sitting by the toilet, while the process of untangling my massive length of locks was going on, and the upper drawer thereof was half open, thus affording me a glimpse of its contents.  Among these was my silent watch with its chain of gold, its pencil and seal attached.  I wore it usually (though useless now in its silent condition—­the mainspring was broken) from habit and for safe keeping, but had laid it there when I staggered to my bed, ill and weak after my terrible interview with Mr. Bainrothe.

It caught the eye of Dinah and stirred her master-passion, avarice, and she began to question me, I soon saw, with a view of getting it in her own possession.  The selfishness of the old negress had struck me on the raft as something rare even in one of her shallow race, and my conviction of her cowardice and coldness prevented me from taking advantage of her cupidity, as I might have done otherwise.

She was fully capable, I felt convinced, of accepting my watch as a bribe, and failing afterward to come up to her bargain.  Yet, dear as it was to me from association of ideas, I should not have weighed it an instant against the merest probability of escape.  I knew if I could gain an hour upon my pursuers, I should be safe in the house of Dr. Pemberton, or even in that of Dr. Craig, another friend of my father’s.  I was comparatively at home anywhere in the city of my nativity, acquainted as I was with its streets and people, and I fully determined, when I found Sabra’s avarice excited, to offer her as a reward this golden treasure, should she first place me in circumstances to gain my freedom.