The dining hall had been cleared and fitted for dancing, and already the soft sound of music was heard there, and gay dancers were gliding gracefully through the waltz. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, when Oleah Tompkins tired of dancing walked into the conservatory, and from there into the garden. His thoughts naturally flew back to his home, to his parents, and to her he had learned to love with all the warmth and ardor of his Southern heart. A hand touched him on the shoulder. He turned and beheld standing behind him a mulatto, one who had played the leading violin in the orchestra. He was between forty and fifty years of age, a man of grave and somber countenance. "Well, sir, what will you have?" demanded the lieutenant, turning sharply about. "Is your name Tompkins?" asked the man. "Yes. What is your business with me?" "I was anxious to be sure," said the mulatto, "for I assure you, Lieutenant Tompkins, that I may sometime be able to give you some valuable information." "If you have any information to give, why not give it now?" demanded the young officer. "I have reasons that I can not give. To tell the reasons would be to give the information." Oleah looked fixedly into the mulatto's face. There was something unusual about him, something that impressed the young lieutenant strangely, yet, what it was, he could not tell. "What is your name?" he asked. "They call me Yellow Steve." "How long have you been in this State?" asked Oleah, after a pause. "About two years," was the answer. "Have I ever known you before?" "I don't think you ever saw me before." "Well, have you ever seen me before?" "No." "Then what can you have to tell me that would interest me?" "I can tell you something of the early history of her you call your sister, something that no one on earth but myself knows. You shall know it in the future." The mulatto turned, pushed open the door of a Summer house near by, and disappeared. "Stay!" cried Oleah. "By heavens, if you know anything of her, I will not wait, I will know it now." He sprang through the door after the mulatto, but the Summer house was vacant. The strange musician had disappeared as suddenly as if he had sank into the earth. After searching vainly through the grounds Oleah returned to the house. The other musicians (all colored) knew the "yaller man who played first fiddle," but, as "he lived no where particularly, but about in spots," no one could tell where he would most likely be found. It was late that night before Lieutenant Tompkins sought his tent, and sleep came not to his eyes until nearly daylight. When he did sleep, the strange mulatto was constantly before his eyes--his yellow skin, his yellow teeth, and yellow eyes all gleaming. CHAPTER XV. MR. DIGGS AGAIN IN TROUBLE.