He thereupon
stepped into Caxton's office and wrote an answer to the letter, fixing
eight o'clock that evening as the time, and his own library as the
place, of a meeting with the teacher. This letter he deposited in the
post-office personally--it was only a step from Caxton's office. Upon
coming out of the post-office he saw the teacher standing on an
opposite corner. When the colonel had passed out of sight, Taylor
crossed the street, entered the post-office, and soon emerged with the
letter. He had given no sign that he saw the colonel, but had looked
rather ostentatiously the other way when that gentleman had glanced in
his direction.
At the appointed hour there was a light step on the colonel's piazza.
The colonel was on watch, and opened the door himself, ushering Taylor
into his library, a very handsome and comfortable room, the door of
which he carefully closed behind them.
The teacher looked around cautiously.
"Are we alone, sir?"
"Yes, entirely so."
"And can any one hear us?"
"No. What have you got to tell me?"
"Colonel French," replied the other, "I'm in a hard situation, and I
want you to promise that you'll never let on to any body that I told
you what I'm going to say."
"All right, Mr. Taylor, if it is a proper promise to make. You can
trust my discretion."
"Yes, sir, I'm sure I can. We coloured folks, sir, are often accused
of trying to shield criminals of our own race, or of not helping the
officers of the law to catch them.
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