"The time for mob violence has passed. If an attack were now to be made, I should consider it unfortunate, and should not want to be mixed up in it, anyway. A mob attack is nothing but a manifestation of sheer lawlessness." "And you're keen for the dear law, of course," said Johnny with sarcasm. "There is a difference between mere laws and the law. There is a time--either here or coming soon--when laws may be broken that justice may be done. But no popular movement will succeed unless it has behind it the solemn, essential human law. Good-night." LIV On this same afternoon of King's assassination Nan Keith, was expecting Sansome in for tea. Afternoon tea was then an exotic institution, practically unknown in California society. Ben Sansome was about the only man of Nan's acquaintance who took it as a matter of course, without either awkwardness, embarrassment, or ill-timed jest. The day had been fine, and several times she had regretted her promise as she cast an eye at the glow over the gilt-edged tops of the western hills. The sunset through the Golden Gate must to-day be very fine. And Ben Sansome had failed her! She had made certain little especial preparations--picked flowers, herself cut the sandwiches thin, put on her most becoming tea gown. As time passed she became more and more annoyed. She was disappointed not so much at the absence of Ben Sansome as a person as at the waste of her efforts. But at six o'clock, when she had given him up, and was about to change from her tea gown, he came in, full of apologies, very flustered, and bursting with news. "King was shot on the street by Casey," he told her, trying not unsuccessfully for his habitual detached manner. "I stopped to get the news for you. King is not dead, but probably fatally wounded. Casey is in jail. There is a great public excitement--a mob is forming. I've been expecting something of the sort. King has been pretty free with his comments." At seven o'clock Nan jumped to her feet in a sudden panic. "Why, I wonder where Milton is!" she cried. "He's never been so late as this before!" "He's probably stayed downtown to follow the course of the excitement. Naturally he would. He may not get home to supper at all." Wing Sam announced supper. He was unheeded. Even Gringo, his ears cocked, watched the door, getting up uneasily, whining, sniffing inquiringly, and lying down again. At half-past seven Sansome firmly intervened. "You're going to make yourself ill," he insisted, "if you don't eat something. I am hungry, anyway, and I'm not going to leave you until he comes back." "Oh, you must be starved! How thoughtless I am!" she cried.