“Marse Alfred, I swear I tacked that hank’cher in the back of this here portrait, between the pasteboard and the brown paper, only yestiddy; and ’fore Gord!  I haint seen it since.”

Grasping his wife’s shoulder, be shook her, until her tall turban quivered and bent over like the Tower of Pisa, and Mr. Churchill saw that in his unfeigned terror, drops of perspiration broke out on his wrinkled forehead.

“Have you turned idjut, that you want us both to be devoured by the roarin’ lion of the Law?  My mammy named me Bedney, not Dani-yell, and she had oughter, for Gord knows, you have kept me in a fiery furnace ever since I tuck you for better for wurser, mostly wurser.  I want that hank’cher, and you’d better believe—­I want it quick.  I found it, and I’m gwine to give it up; and you have got no right to jeppardy my life, if you are fool enough to resk your own stiff neck.  Gim’me that hank’cher!  Fantods is played out.  I would ruther play leap frog over a buzz-saw than—­than—­pester and rile Marse Alfred, and have the cunstable clawing my collar.”

“You poor, pitiful, rascally, cowardly creetur!  Whar’s that oath you done swore, to help ’fend Miss Ellie’s child?  And you a deacon, high in the church!  If I had found that hank’cher, I would hide it, till Gabriel’s horn blows; and I would go to jail or to Jericho; and before I would give testimony agin my dear young Mistiss’s poor friendless gal, I would chaw my tongue into sassage meat.  That’s the diffunce between a palavering man full of ’screshun, and a ’oman who means what she says; and will stand by her word, if it rains fire and brimstone.  Betrayin’ and denying the innercent, has been men’s work, ever since the time of Judas and Peter.  Now, Marse Alfred, Bedney did tack the hank’cher inside the portrait of President Linkum, ’cause we thought that was the saftest place, but I knowed the house would be sarched, so I jest hid it in a better place.  Since he ain’t showed no more backbone than a saucer of blue-mange, I shall have to give it up; but if I had found it, you would never set your two eyes on it, while my head is warm.”

She stooped, lifted the wide hem of her black calico skirt, and proceeded to pick out the stitches which held it securely.  When she had ripped the thread about a quarter of a yard, she raised the edge of the unusually deep hem, and drew out a white handkerchief with a colored border.

Bedney snatched it from her, and handed it to the Solicitor, who leaned close to the fire, and carefully examined it.  As he held it up by the corners, his face became very grave and stern, and he sighed.

“This is evidently a lady’s handkerchief, and is so important in the case, that I shall keep it until the trial is over.  Bedney, come to my office by nine o’clock to-morrow, as the Grand Jury may ask you some questions.  Good bye, Dyce, shake hands; for I honor your loyalty to your poor young mistress, and her unfortunate child.  You remind me of my own old mammy.  Dear good soul, she was as true as steel.”