"Have you been allowed to see your niece?" inquired the latter, as Mrs. Arnold seemed at a loss for words. "No; and I am convinced the food and clothes I send her never get past the inspector's office." "Have you appealed to the President?" "Have I?" Miss Metoaca's tone was eloquent. "I have tormented that poor man nearly to death." "Did he give you no comfort?" asked Mrs. Arnold. "Usually President Lincoln is only too anxious to sign pardons." "He doesn't seem to be in this instance," dryly. "He insists that an open trial will be the best thing for Nancy. 'Murder is evil,' he said; 'evil cannot stand discussion. The more the mystery is discussed the quicker you will discover clues leading to the murderer. What kills the skunk is the publicity it gives itself. What a skunk wants to do is to keep snug under the barn--in the daytime--when men are around with shotguns.'" "Is Sam working for you now?" inquired Mrs. Arnold, after a slight pause. "Sam!" echoed Miss Metoaca, her surprise causing her to raise her voice. Seeing Mrs. Arnold was flurried by the apparent effect of her innocent remark on Miss Metoaca, Mrs. Bennett answered for her. "My husband and I met Nancy conversing with the negro Sam, about six o'clock on the afternoon that Captain Lloyd--ah--died." Miss Metoaca was intently studying the speaker's face, but she could learn nothing from the innocent blue eyes raised so confidingly to hers. "Nancy told us then that Sam, who has often waited on me, was anxious to secure a place in a private family...." "And so," broke in Mrs. Arnold, "as I am in need of another man-servant, I came to inquire about Sam." "Now that is too bad," exclaimed Miss Metoaca, rallying her wits to her aid. "I wish I had known before that you needed a servant, Mrs. Arnold. Sam came to me and asked me to find him a place, so I sent him over to my cousin, Mrs. Hillen, in Baltimore, as she wanted a good butler." Her tranquil manner effectually covered a rapidly beating heart. How much did Mrs. Bennett know about Sam, and where had she gained her information? "Great heavens! What is that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, startled out of her usual calm as a long-drawn howl came from the back of the house. "It's Misery. Poor dog! He is grieving his heart out for Nancy. I suspect Jonas has forgotten and shut him in the pantry." Miss Metoaca made a motion to rise. "Sit still, dear." Mrs. Bennett detained her by a gesture. "I will go and release Misery." And before the perturbed spinster could stop her she had tripped gracefully out of the room. "Here is Senator Warren," remarked Mrs. Arnold, catching sight of him through the window as he came up the steps; and Miss Metoaca, all else forgotten, hastened to the front door.