details. His final comment was enlightening.

"Let me give you a word of advice: If you have the slightest fault to
find with that infernal nigger, shoot him at sight. A swelled-headed
nigger, with a bee in his bonnet, is one of the worst difficulties in the
world to deal with. So better make a clean job of it, and wipe him out
at once!"

"But what about the law, Mr. Caswall?"

"Oh, the law doesn't concern itself much about dead niggers. A few more
or less do not matter. To my mind it's rather a relief!"

"I'm afraid of you," was her only comment, made with a sweet smile and in
a soft voice.

"All right," he said, "let us leave it at that. Anyhow, we shall be rid
of one of them!"

"I don't love niggers any more than you do," she replied, "and I suppose
one mustn't be too particular where that sort of cleaning up is
concerned." Then she changed in voice and manner, and asked genially:
"And now tell me, am I forgiven?"

"You are, dear lady--if there is anything to forgive."

As he spoke, seeing that she had moved to go, he came to the door with
her, and in the most natural way accompanied her downstairs. He passed
through the hall with her and down the avenue. As he went back to the
house, she smiled to herself.