At the mention of the murderer’s name Serena stepped back, and her usual expression of sanctimonious complacency slowly changed. Her lower lip shot forward, and her face darkened. “Yuh t’ink dat nigger on Kittiwar?” she asked. “I allus figgered he bin dey in dem deep palmetters,” Maria replied. “But w’en I look in Bess’s eye las’ night, I sho ob two ting: one, dat he is dey, an’ two, dat she been wid um.” “Yuh b’lieb she still ran wid dat nigger?” “Dem sort ob mens ain’t need tuh worry ’bout habin’ ’omen,” Maria told her. “Dey kin lay de lash on um, an’ kick um in de street; den dey kin whistle w’en dey ready, an’ dere dey is ag’in lickin’ dey han’.” “She goin’ stay wid Porgy, ef she know wut good fuh she.” “She know all right, an’ she lub Porgy. But ef dat nigger come attuh she, dey ain’t goin’ tuh be noboddy roun’ hyuh but Porgy an’ de goat.” A sudden dark flame blazed in Serena’s face, sweeping the acquired complacency before it, and changing it utterly. She leant forward, and spoke heavily: “Dat nigger bes’ t’ank he Gawd dat I gots My Jedus now fuh hol’ back my han’!” “Yuh ain’t means dat yuh is goin’ tuh gib um up tuh de w’ite folks ef he come back to town, ’stead ob settle wid um yu’self?’ Maria asked incredulously. “I ain’t know wut fuh do,” the other replied, the hatred in her face giving way to a look of perplexity. “Ef dat nigger come tuh town he sho tuh git kill’ sooner er later. Den de w’ite folks goin’ lock me up. Dey gots it on de writin’s now dat I been Robbins’ wife; an’ dey goin’ figger I like as not kill um. I knows two people git lock up dat way, an’ dey ain’t do one Gawd t’ing.” “Nigger sho’ gots fuh keep he eye open in dis worl’,” the big negress observed. “But we can’t turn no nigger ober tuh de police.” A man paused before the entrance of the court, and looked in. To the two women he was only a silhouette standing under the arch against a dazzling expanse of bay; but the foppish outlines of the indolent, slender figure were unmistakable. A smile of pleased anticipation grew about Maria’s wide mouth. She dried her hands upon her apron. “Jus’ like I been tellin’ yuh!” she remarked to Serena. “T’ank Gawd, Jedus ain’t gots me yit wuh he gots you; an’ I still mens enough tuh straighten out a crooked nigger. See dat yalluh snake wrigglin’ in de do’way? He de one wut sell Bess dat happy-dus’.” Drying her hands and bared forearms with ominous thoroughness, she crossed to her shop. The room was empty when she entered. She went at once to the stove which stood in its corner, with its legs set upon four bricks. She bent forward, placed a shoulder against one of its corners, gave a heave, and drew out a brick. Then she straightened up, spat first on one hand, then on the other, and, carrying the brick in her immense right, lightly, and with a certain awful fondness, stepped out of her door. Sportin’ Life was now within the entrance, and presented an unsuspecting profile to the cook-shop.