But just then there were two sharp reports of a pistol near at hand, followed by a tumult in the street below. Both men hurried to the window, but the jutting wing of the court-room hid the center of interest, and all they could see was the crowd of human beings huddled and packed in the narrow entrance of the alley that led to the Criminal Court-room. There were confused cries and shoutings, and almost immediately the gong of the emergency ambulance. “Some one’s been shot,” said Judge Ladd coolly; then he turned from the window and halted with his finger on the bell. The door from the court-room had opened abruptly and Judge Hollis came in. Both Ladd and Colonel Royall faced him in some anxiety; there was an electric current of excitement in the air. “Yarnall has been shot dead,” he said briefly. “My God!” exclaimed Judge Ladd. Colonel Royall said nothing, but turned white. “Have they got the assassin?” the judge demanded, recovering his self-control. “No,” replied Judge Hollis, a singular expression on his face. “No, the shot was fired from the window of the court-room; the room was empty, everybody at dinner, and the windows open; the pistol is on the floor, two chambers empty. Only one man was seen in the window, a negro, and he has escaped.” “A negro?” the judge’s brows came down, “no, no!” Then he stopped abruptly, and added, after a moment, “Was he recognized?” “They say it was Juniper,” said Judge Hollis stolidly. “Wild nonsense!” exclaimed Colonel Royall. Hollis nodded. His hat was planted firmly on his head and he stood like a rock. “Nevertheless, there’s wild talk of lynching. Ladd, I think we’d better get the lieutenant-governor to call out the militia.” The storm in the street below rose and fell, like a hurricane catching its breath. Colonel Royall looked out of the window; the crowd in the alley had overflowed into the square, and swollen there to overflow again in living rivulets into every side street. He looked down on a living seething mass of human beings. The sunlight was vivid white; the heat seemed to palpitate in the square; low guttural cries came up. The names of Yarnall and Eaton caught his ear. He remembered suddenly the significance of Judge Hollis’ glance at him, and he did not need to remember the blood feud. Suddenly he saw the crowd give way a little before a file of mounted police, but it closed again sullenly, gathered the little group of officers into its bosom and waited.