“You mean you want to sit at table with us!” exclaimed Mrs. Graeme. Mammy Lyddy turned toward her. “You know I don't mean nuttin' like dat! I leetle more 'n smacked that yaller gal' what you call you' maid over 'bout talkin' dat way t'other day.” “Then what do you want!” “I wants _rec'nition_--dat's all I wants.” “Who told you to say that!” asked Mr. Graeme. “Who tol' me to say dat?” She was puzzled. “Yes.” “Ain' nobody tol' me to say it.” “Yes, some one has. Who was it?---the Reverend Johnson? Did n't he tell you that!” She hesitated; but Mr. Graeme's eye was searching. “Well, he no mo' 'n others--no _much_ mo'. Of co'se, he tol' me dat--he _preaches_ 'bout it; but did n't nobody _have_ to tell me--I knows 'bout it myself.” “Of course you did, and you must have it. So shall the Reverend Mr. Johnson,” said Mr. Graeme. His tone expressed such sudden amiability that the old woman glanced at him suspiciously, but he was smiling softly and thoughtfully to himself. “What did you do with the four hundred and fifty-five dollars you drew out of bank last week? Did you invest it or lend it to Mr. Johnson?” It was a bow drawn at venture, but the arrow hit the mark, as Mr. Graeme saw. “I 'vested it.” “You mean Mr. Johnson invested it for you? By the way, what is his first name!” “Yes, sir. His name 's de Rev. Amos Johnson.” “By George! I thought so,” said Graeme, half aloud. “I saw him at the races last week. I knew I had seen him before.” His countenance grew suddenly cheerful. “What did he give you to show for it?” “He did n't gi' me nothin'. He 's gwine to draw the intrust for me.” “Oh! I thought so. Well, I want to see the Rev. Mr. Johnson when he comes next time. When do you expect him?” “I ain't 'pectin' him 't all. He comes sometimes. He was a friend o' Cæsar's.” “Ah! he was! So I thought. Comes to smoke a cigar, I suppose!” She looked so uneasy that he went on casually: “Well, it 's very well; always keep in with the cloth. He is a fine preacher, I hear! Keeps quite up with the times--interested in the races in more senses than one.” “Yes, sir; he preaches very well.” “That is all. Well, your friend must have 'rec'nition.'” The old woman withdrew. The following day Graeme went down to a detective agency and left a memorandum. A few days later he received a message from the agency: “Yes, he is the same man. He frequents the pool-rooms a good deal. Came from Kentucky. He used to be known as 'Amos Brown.'” IV