# By Sanction of Law/Chapter 32

Upon Elvin Lauriston's hasty departure from home which Lida had witnessed, he rode straight to Young John Marley's. Riding into the wide yard of the Marley home, he found Young John sitting on the veranda. Without dismounting he beckoned to Marley.
"Come here, John," he bade.
Marley leisurely left his seat and approached the horseman. "What's the trouble?" he asked. "You look as if you had buried your last friend," he commented.
"I want you to come with me to Orangeburg," Elvin explained.
"What tonight?" the astonished Marley asked. "Why, man, it's going to rain before morning."
"That won't matter. 'Twon't be the first time you've been out in the rain, will it?" Elvin inquired.
"Yes, but what's the rush? Won't tomorrow do?" he parried.
"No, tomorrow won't do. We've got to get there tonight so's I can look up some records first thing in the morning. Aunt Sally Gorton's made some statements about my family that I want to look up. If they're not so, woman or no woman, she'll answer to me for them," explained Elvin.
"If you take my advice you'll not go digging into the past and let Aunt Sally rave. I don't know what she said but there's a chance that what she said might be true. She's a wise old bird, she is," he advised.
​"What she said's not true and I'll prove it. She said there's black blood in my family and if she's lied then she'll take back the words or take a beating," he threatened while his face scowled.
"Aunt Sally's been in this world a long time and may know a lot about us we don't ourselves. You can go looking in old closets for skeletons if you want but here's one that won't. If Aunt Sally said anything like that about me, I'd say she was crazy and let it go at that. You know lots of our ancestors, mine and yours, weren't all purists or saints just as you've not been. I say forget it," Marley advised again.
"So or not so, I want to know," Elvin insisted. "Come on, saddle your horse and let's go. We'll get there before midnight."
"Well, if you must go, I suppose I might just as well go with you," Marley yielded. "Suppose you find what she says is true? What'll you do about it? You can't change the blood now. You'll best forget about it," he again exhorted.
Elvin was obdurate, however, and it was not long before the two men were on the road to Orangeburg and the courthouse. They reached the city an hour or so before midnight and, after seeing their mounts well rubbed and in their stalls for the night went to the Planters Hotel where they secured rooms for the night. Marley was soon asleep but Elvin Lauriston was so disturbed over the events of the day that sleep refused to visit him for several hours.
​Both men were astir early the following morning and were at the courthouse shortly after the doors were opened for business. The city had now recovered from the horrifying mental state which the lynching and deaths had created and life was resuming its usual tenor. There were more than a dozen loiterers about the fence near the gates, mere idle, indolent citizens eager to debate any subject with his neighbor, or to expound theories on how to manage everything from the street cleaning to farming and directing the Universe.
As Elvin and Marley entered the gate and started for the door this group turned from their weighty discussions, to the visitors, following with their eyes till both men were lost to view inside. Their curiosity satisfied to that extent they turned to their task of viewing the pageant of passing life across the street, after expectorating and shifting their tobacco to the other sides of their mouths.
Elvin strode to the clerk's office followed by Marley. The clerk a dapper, little, quick-motioned individual met them as they entered, at the same time rubbing his hands like a country salesman.
"Good morning, gentlemen," was his blandishing greeting. "Can I help you in any way?"
Elvin lost no time in explaining his errand. "You have here the records of births, deaths and marriages?" he asked.
The clerk bowed and smirked again, "Oh, yes," he replied.
"Records of black as well as white people?" Elvin asked again.
​"Well, sir," the clerk smiled ingratiatingly. "We have the records of the whites as far back as Colonial days but those of the blacks are only of recent years. You know marriages among blacks got but little attention from our fathers in the old days. Hence those records are not completely kept, except as to slaves and their owners."
"May we see the records?" Elvin asked.
"Certainly, sir. They're kept in the basement. You may find the place dusty," the clerk explained apologetically. "It's been years since they've been used." As he spoke he was piloting the two to the basement of the courthouse and into the far regions off in the right hand corner. The basement was poorly lighted except for the oil lamps resurrected by the clerk and as they walked rats and mice were heard scampering from under the feet of the visitors, excited over the intrusion to what had been for years their unmolested domain.
As the men walked, in the dim light Marley and Elvin espied in front of them a large, mouldering, oaken door of a design, hand carved, no longer in architectural vogue. To this the clerk approached and from a bunch of disused keys selected a long rusted one and inserted it into the lock. As the key creaked its way into the lock the scampering of many more vermin feet could be heard. The lock turned with difficulty. After several attempts the lock yielded and the knob turned. The clerk placed his body against the door and it also yielded, though stubbornly. As it opened the long rusting hinges squeaked so sharply as to make the spine twist nervously. A gust ​of sickening, vitiated musty air greeted the men, causing Elvin to turn and gasp, and the others to breathe in spasms.
"Wait a minute. Don't go in yet," the clerk cautioned. "Let the air clear first," he warned. Elvin and Marley halted as advised. "There ought to be a ventilator here somewhere," the clerk continued. "If we can find that and open it the air will soon be cleared so one can enter safely." After hunting for a moment or two, "Ah," he exclaimed. "Here it is."
The ventilator proved to be a window just above the ground in the foundation. It had been neglected for so long, sand and dirt from rains of many years, had almost hidden it. The clerk unlatched it and pushed it open. "Now, that's better," he exclaimed. "You gentlemen can now remain and work as long as you want," he said, as he departed. "You will find the older records here," indicating the left hand corner of the room. From here they go forward to the later years. All recent records, however, are up stairs. I presume you don't want those, do you?"
"No, here's what we want," Elvin explained.
"Stay as long as you wish," the clerk invited. "When you leave close the doors. Everything will be all right."
"Thank you, I don't know how long we'll be," Elvin replied.
Left to themselves the two men began their search. "What a dismal sickening place," Elvin commented. Their oil lamps gave off a flickering light that made the place appear some long forgotten catacomb. Raising the lamps ​above their heads the two men looked at the place.
"Elvin, you're crazy to have come in here. It gives me a creepy feeling.—It's like uncovering some old tomb.—If these old books could talk what a story they could tell."
"They do tell stories," Elvin commented drily. "And I've come here to learn one of them.—Let's see. We'll trace the Lauriston family first.—We'll have to start with my father's father." Here he reached for one of the volumes. His hands blackened with the dust and the air filled, causing both men to cough distressingly. When relieved they continued.
"How're we going to begin looking?—We won't know where to start for we don't know just what we're looking for?" Marley questioned.
"I'm looking to see where the black blood, Aunt Sally Gorton mentioned, comes into the family," asserted Elvin. "And I'm going to find it, if it's here."
"Guess you'll have to trace the marriages then. I think they went by families from generation to generation, according to this book," Marley suggested. "My! they gave a lot of time to penmanship in the old days. How faded and yellow the ink is.—Look at this. Here's the Middleton family.—That's right. See they kept the family name running from one set to the other."
"Look for Lauriston, then.—See if you can find that book," suggested Elvin.
"Lauriston—Lauriston—L—L—L—. Here's Livingston," Marley called as he studied the pages. "Here's Lucas," he continued, and Lomax—and Lesters—and ​Littlejohns—And—Ah, here you are. Here you are," he finally exclaimed excitedly. Lauriston hurried to him and bent over his shoulder peering at the page in a leather bound volume of unusual dimensions.
"There's Dr. Frederick Lauriston who attended General Oglevie in the Revolutionary time," Marley continued. "He married—Let's see. He married," his finger traced across the page. "He married Elizabeth Cooper. Their three sons married white, all right. And,—the male children of the next generation married white; and the next generation; and the next generation," he continued to trace, while Elvin looked over his shoulder following the tracings. "And the next," he continued. "Ah," he drew a long breath. "Here it is. Here it is," Marley exclaimed excitedly. "See, see, one of the sons in this generation, a lawyer, married out of the race. See, Elvin, there it is, sure's you're born. Married Elspeth Witherspoon, femme de couleur. Well, well, well. Femme de couleur. That means colored woman."
Elvin was speechless. He stared vacantly at the words written on the page and standing out before him from another day and time. He could not believe the words though they seemed to stand out in two-inch size. His breath came quick and in pent up bursts; his eyes widened and seemed to bulge from their sockets. His companion's finger rested at the expression. The room was so still a mouse gnawing in the far corner of the room could be heard.
Marley was the first to break the spell. "Well, well, ​well," he continued. "Who'd ever have believed it."
Elvin recovered his breath. "My God," he exclaimed. "She was right.—Aunt Sally was right!"
"That's nothing," comforted Marley. "Let's look at some of the others. See here. Here's another—and here's another femme de couleur marriage. They must have been pretty white and pretty women for that."
"Turn over to your own family. Let's see that," suggested Elvin.
"Not by a durned sight!" exclaimed Marley positively. "Not by a durned sight! What I don't know I don't want to know. Let the dead stay dead. You wanted to know about yours and you found out. I don't want to know about mine. I know enough," he announced emphatically.
"Why almost every family, somewhere along the line, seems to have spoiled the strain," observed Elvin. "What a land. I wonder if these people knew their origin?" he asked indicating the pages containing the family names.
"Of course not!" exclaimed Marley. "Did you know yours?"
A cold moisture dampened Elvin's forehead as he stood in the cold clammy vault. "These books and records ought to be destroyed. Suppose bye and bye somebody else sees them?"
"Yes, just suppose," suggested Marley facetiously.
"They must be destroyed," murmured Elvin musingly. "They must be destroyed. Come on John," he urged. "I've seen enough."
​"I've seen too much, myself," Marley commented.
Both men closed and replaced the books, stepped from the room and closed the door gently, as if in awe. They made their way above and went silently to the street. Once again in the open, despite the cloudy skies, they blinked and rubbed their eyes to accustom themselves to the change. Still silently, they made their way to their hotel, where for a time they busied themselves removing the dirt and dust from their hands and clothing.
By the time this was concluded, rain which had been threatening all the morning began to drip steadily from the sky. Toward evening there was a letup and the two men left the hotel and made ready to start for their homes. They were on their way before darkness set in.
It was nearing midnight when Orangeburg awoke from its first slumbers to the sound of clanging bells, yelling of men and the hurrying of many feet. Here and there from houses all over the city there peered night capped heads of men and women. The sky at the center of the town was ablaze. Others were leaving their homes hurriedly donning their outer garments as they ran. The whole city was seething with excitement again.
"Come on. Fire down town," one rushing passerby urged to another. "Whole city's burning up," shouted others. Horse drawn and hand tub apparatus clanged or lumbered by. In a few minutes the entire square, scene of so many thrilling experiences, was packed with a slowly moving, jostling, excited mass, their faces reddened from reflection of the flames which were mounting to the sky ​and vieing, with the church steeple nearby, and which was threatened by the flying sparks.
"Courthouse on fire! Courthouse on fire!" back the words were hurled from mouth to mouth till all the city, white and black, seemed to be pouring into the center. Frantic efforts were being made to save records. Most of the recent ones were saved. The old historic building, however, that had stood for so many generations, and had been the scene of so many experiences from slave selling to murder trials, was doomed. As its cindered rafters and framework caved in, sending clouds of sparks into the sky, the old elm tree that had stood, like a companion to the courthouse for so many years and which had been used for the double lynching not long before, surrendered to the flames and was soon also a mass of burning embers. The limb from which the bodies had swung was the first to fall after the leaves. It drooped with a heavy crash, devoured by flames and sparks which seemingly had pounced on it like a mass of devouring, revenging insects.
The courthouse, being of inflammable material and being so old that it was a veritable tinderbox was almost completely consumed. As the last shower of sparks illuminated the air, two lone sentinels, who had been seated quietly on their mounts at the outskirts of the city on a slight elevation, turned the heads of their horses to the road, clicked to them, dug into their sides with stirrups then rode into the darkness. Neither spoke but both were satisfied with their work and assured that such records as they had viewed that day would never be again visible ​to mortal eyes. Daylight was breaking when Elvin Lauriston turned his horse into its stall and tramped wearily and despondently to his room. So exhausted was his body that he sank into deep slumber almost before his head touched the pillow.