slouch hat; several buttons of his vest were unbuttoned, and his
solitaire diamond blazed in his soiled shirt-front like the headlight of
a locomotive.

The conductor in his turn looked back at Miller, and retraced his steps.
Miller braced himself for what he feared was coming, though he had
hoped, on account of his friend's presence, that it might be avoided.

"Excuse me, sir," said the conductor, addressing Dr. Burns, "but did I
understand you to say that this man was your servant?"

"No, indeed!" replied Dr. Burns indignantly. "The gentleman is not my
servant, nor anybody's servant, but is my friend. But, by the way, since
we are on the subject, may I ask what affair it is of yours?"

"It's very much my affair," returned the conductor, somewhat nettled at
this questioning of his authority. "I'm sorry to part _friends_, but the
law of Virginia does not permit colored passengers to ride in the white
cars. You'll have to go forward to the next coach," he added, addressing
Miller this time.

"I have paid my fare on the sleeping-car, where the separate-car law
does not apply," remonstrated Miller.

"I can't help that. You can doubtless get your money back from the
sleeping-car company. But this is a day coach, and is distinctly marked
'White,' as you must have seen before you sat down here. The sign is put
there for that purpose."

He indicated a large card neatly framed and hung at the end of the car,