The gambler's eyes were fixed upon the trio when he was not searching the faces of those other silent men about the board. They were dressed in black. There was about them an air of impassivity almost removed from human emotion, and Cora could not but contrast them with the noisy, chewing, spitting, red-shirted jury at his previous trial, where Belle Cora's thousands had proved efficacious in securing disagreement. There would be no disagreement here. Instinctively, Cora knew that. Marshal Doane entered. He held in his hand a folded paper. Coleman and the others looked at him expectantly. "It is my great misfortune to report that James King of William is dead," said Doane. There was a buzz of comment, almost instantly stilled by Coleman's gavel. "Damn!" said the gambler under his breath. "Gentlemen, we will proceed with the trial," Coleman spoke. The examination of witnesses went on. But there was a difference. Cora noticed it. Sometimes, with an involuntary, shuddering gesture, he touched the skin above his flowing collar. Casey, when informed of King's death, trembled. "Your trial begins tomorrow," Doane informed him. "They'll finish with Cora tonight." * * * * * Thursday morning carpenters were seen at work on the Vigilante building. A stout beam was projected from the roof over two of the upper windows facing Sacramento street; to these pulleys were attached. Platforms were extended from the window sills. They were about three feet long and were seen to be hinged at the sills. The ends were held up by ropes fastened to the beams overhead. Stouter ropes next appeared, one end passing through the pulleys overhead, then they were caught up in nooses. The other ends were in the committee rooms. Men tested the platforms by standing on them; tried the nooses; found them strong. Then the carpenters retired. The windows were closed. A crowd below looked up expectantly, but nothing happened until noon, when military companies formed lines along Sacramento, Front and Davis streets. Cannon were placed to command all possible approaches. The great alarm bell of the Vigilantes sounded. By this time every roof near by was thronged with people. A cry went up as the windows of Vigilante headquarters were opened. At each stood a man, his arms pinioned. He advanced to the edge of the platform. * * * * * Bells were tolling. Black bunting was festooned from hundreds of doors and windows. All the flags of the city were at half-mast, even those of ships in the Bay. From the Unitarian Church on Stockton street, between Clay and Sacramento, came the funeral cortege on its way to the burial ground at Lone Mountain. Everywhere along the route people stood with bared heads.