“I could scarcely believe it!” she replied, dropping into the chair opposite and pushing back her long full sleeves and loosening the ribbons at her throat, as if she suddenly felt the heat. “It seems impossible--after your evidence, too, and Governor Aylett’s! That jury must have been full of anarchists.” “Full of asses!” snapped Jacob. “I fancy that you don’t know that Diana Royall got up on the witness-stand and made a public exhibition of herself to clear him?” “Diana?” Mrs. Eaton could not believe her ears. “Yes, Diana,” mocked her son, “our Diana. She went on the stand and created a sensation, took the court by storm and the city. Good Lord! Her name’s in every club in the place.” “I--I can’t believe it!” gasped his mother: “it’s incredible--Diana Royall?” “Incredible?” He rose, his face was white with fury. “Is it incredible? Do you remember her mother?” Mrs. Eaton collapsed. “Jacob!” she breathed, “don’t! It makes me shiver to think you might have married her.” “By God, I would to-day!” he cried, unable to restrain himself, “if only to break her spirit, to make her pay for this!” “I can’t see what she knew,” Mrs. Eaton protested, “she--a young girl--and all this awful scandal about Jean Bartlett in the papers. In my day, a young girl would have been ashamed to show her face in the court.” “Well, she wasn’t,” said Jacob dryly; “she appeared and told the court that at the hour of the shooting she was alone with Caleb Trench in the prisoners’ cage!” “Merciful heavens!” ejaculated Mrs. Eaton faintly, “was David crazy to let her do it?” “He’s an old fool!” said Jacob fiercely, “a damned old fool!” Mrs. Eaton clasped her hands. “I’m only too thankful, Jacob, that you never married her!” she said devoutly. “She’s refused me twice,” said Jacob grimly. His mother uttered an inarticulate sound. And at that instant Davidson, an old gray-headed negro, appeared and Jacob called him. “Tell James to pack my suit-case,” he said sharply. “I’m going to Lexington this morning on the eight-forty.” “Doctor Cheyney’s at the doah, suh,” said Davidson, “and would like ter see yo’.” “What does that old fool want, I wonder?” Jacob remarked, as he rose to follow the negro into the hall. “What are you going so soon for, Jacob?” his mother asked tremulously, “and can you--the bail--” “I’ve arranged that,” said Jacob shortly, and flung himself out of the room. Dr. Cheyney was looking out from under the cover of his buggy, and old Henk was breathing as if they had ascended the hill at an unusual gait. “Morning, Jacob,” said the doctor pleasantly, “I stopped by to leave that book for your mother; Mrs. Broughton asked me to bring it when I passed yesterday and I clean forgot it.” Jacob took the volume gingerly and looked politely bored. What in the world did the old fool mean by bringing books before seven o’clock in the morning?