With a dash the nimble slave obeyed the command, and in a moment
stood before his master, the letter in his hand, bowing and smiling
with his usual politeness.

Taking the letter, Mr. Mordecai crushed it in his hand, then placed
it in his breast pocket, as he again started forward toward his
banking-house. If he passed man, woman, child, friend, acquaintance,
or kinsman in that morning's walk, he knew it not; for the tumult of
passion that stirred his soul obliterated for the time every
recollection but that of the terrible sorrow that had befallen him.
In due time he reached the dingy brown banking-house, and stood
irresolutely for a moment upon the well-worn stone steps. He placed
the ponderous key within the lock, but the hand seemed powerless to
turn its massive bolt; and for a moment he stood with thoughtful,
determined eye resting upon the pavement. A moment more, and then he
quickly withdrew the key, dropped it into his pocket, and briskly
retraced his steps for square after square, and then abruptly turned
into the well-known street where stood the office of the
distinguished Le Grande.

It happened that Mr. Mordecai approached the office from one
direction, as Judge Le Grande himself approached it from another,
riding in the light single phaeton in which he usually drove to and
from his office.

"Good-morning, Mr. Mordecai. How goes it with you, my friend, this
fine morning?" said the judge pleasantly, as he alighted and threw
the lines to Cato, the driver.--"Tell your mistress she need not send
for me till five o'clock. I shall be very busy to-day." Then turning