It was sundown again before he remembered that he had not discovered whether the body had been removed. Nor had he heard why the negro came back, nor exactly how he was caught. A nine o’clock evening train to the city giving him a little more time for investigation, he decided to avail himself of it. The negro’s cabin was two miles out along a pine-shaded road, but so pleasant was the evening that he decided to walk. En route, the last rays of the sinking sun stretched long shadows of budding trees across his path. It was not long before he came upon the cabin, a one-story affair set well back from the road and surrounded with a few scattered trees. By now it was quite dark. The ground between the cabin and the road was open, and strewn with the chips of a woodpile. The roof was sagged, and the windows patched in places, but for all that it had the glow of a home. Through the front door, which stood open, the blaze of a wood-fire might be seen, its yellow light filling the interior with a golden glow. Hesitating before the door, Davies finally knocked. Receiving no answer he looked in on the battered cane chairs and aged furniture with considerable interest. It was a typical negro cabin, poor beyond the need of description. After a time a door in the rear of the room opened and a little negro girl entered carrying a battered tin lamp without any chimney. She had not heard his knock and started perceptibly at the sight of his figure in the doorway. Then she raised her smoking lamp above her head in order to see better, and approached. There was something ridiculous about her unformed figure and loose gingham dress, as he noted. Her feet and hands were so large. Her black head was strongly emphasized by little pigtails of hair done up in white twine, which stood out all over her head. Her dark skin was made apparently more so by contrast with her white teeth and the whites of her eyes. Davies looked at her for a moment but little moved now by the oddity which ordinarily would have amused him, and asked, “Is this where Ingalls lived?” The girl nodded her head. She was exceedingly subdued, and looked as if she might have been crying. “Has the body been brought here?” “Yes, suh,” she answered, with a soft negro accent. “When did they bring it?” “Dis moanin’.” “Are you his sister?” “Yes, suh.” “Well, can you tell me how they caught him? When did he come back, and what for?” He was feeling slightly ashamed to intrude thus. “In de afternoon, about two.” “And what for?” repeated Davies. “To see us,” answered the girl. “To see my motha’.” “Well, did he want anything? He didn’t come just to see her, did he?” “Yes, suh,” said the girl, “he come to say good-by. We doan know when dey caught him.” Her voice wavered. “Well, didn’t he know he might get caught?” asked Davies sympathetically, seeing that the girl was so moved. “Yes, suh, I think he did.” She still stood very quietly holding the poor battered lamp up, and looking down.