"What's de matter, nigger, lookin' over yo' shoulder like you see sumfin'? Don't yer go 'magining now dat ole 'oman is ha'ntin' de house!" He came closer to his wife and whispered, tremulously: "Hush, honey; Maria did say as how if de dead could come back she would, and--and--I heard somefin' sartain--oh, Lord!" He gave a jump, and so did Poky. Both had heard something this time--the low wails of a new-born infant proceeding from the next room. They held their breath for a minute, then Poky, who was rather strong-minded, said, contemptuously: "Cats!" "Do--do--you think so, Poky?" her better half inquired, dropping his trembling frame into a chair, and more than half convinced that Maria was haunting him already. "Sartain!" said Poky, with a sniff. "Lors, Sam, what a coward you be! It's only some cats as is got in thrue a open window." She seized a poker and the candle and disappeared into the "company room," leaving Sam cowering in the dark, and trembling lest the shade of his departed Maria should pounce upon him at any minute and shake him for having presumed to give her a successor. Then a succession of low wails echoed on the air again, and Sam shook himself together with returning courage. "'Twas cats after all! I thought so!" he ejaculated, with a feeble chuckle. "And, Lordy, but Poky's a-makin' 'em git!" Apparently it took her some time to disperse the feline intruders, for fifteen minutes elapsed, and she did not return. Then he attempted to follow her and got the door slammed in his face with the curt yet good-naturedly delivered sentence: "You stay whar you is, nigger!" He slunk back to his chair, and presently she came out with an important face, and lighting another candle, placed it on the table, and told him to eat his supper. "But, Poky--" "Yes, it's all right, Sam. 'Twasn't no cats, nor no ghosts, only a beautiful young gal, Sam, runned away from her friends to-night and hid herself here for her chile to be borned, which it was dat baby we heerd a-caterwauling." "Who is she, Poky?" amazedly. "She said you'd know--some sort o' name like Flower o' de fiel', or somethin'. But I mus' go back and tend to her and dat baby. Lucky for her we cum here dis night. Eat your supper without me, Sam, 'cause I'se needed bad in dere." She disappeared again, and Sam sat there conscience-stricken, wondering if his sin that night months ago had brought this thing to pass. CHAPTER XIX. He had known that Laurie Meredith and Flower Fielding were lovers, and he had guessed that Jewel was jealous, when she bribed him so heavily to give her that important letter and to take back the answer she sent. In his eagerness to possess himself of her costly bribe he had not counted the cost of his treachery to the lovers. Now he began to experience a sneaking consciousness that his guilt had somehow helped to pave the way to that trouble in yonder.