It seemed that an individual there present, Markle by name--a tall, histrionic, dark man with a tossing mane--conceived himself to have been insulted by some one whose name Keith did not catch, and had that very afternoon issued warning that he would "shoot on sight." Some of the older men were advising him to go slow. "But, gentlemen," cried Markle heatedly, "none of you would stand such conduct from anybody! What are we coming to? I'll get that----as sure as God made little apples." "That's all right; I don't blame yo'," argued Calhoun. Bennett. "Do not misunderstand me, suh. I agree with yo', lock, stock, an' barrel. My point is that yo' must be circumspect. Challenge him, that's the way." "He isn't worth my challenge, sir, nor the challenge of any decent man. You know that, sir." "Well, street shootings have got to be a little, a little----" He fell silent, and Keith, looked up in surprise to see why. A man was slowly passing the table. He was a thick, tall, strong man, moving with a freedom that bespoke smoothly working muscles. His complexion was florid; and this, in conjunction with a sweeping blue-black moustache, gave him exactly the appearance of a gambler or bartender. Only as he passed the table and responded gravely to the formal salutes, Keith caught a flash of his eye. It was gray, hard as steel, forceful, but so far from being cold it seemed to glow and change with an inner fire, The bartender impression was swept into limbo forever. "That's one good reason why," said Calhoun Bennett, when this man had gone on. But Markle overflowed with a torrent of vituperative profanity. His face was congested and purple with the violence of his emotions. Keith stared in astonishment at the depth of hatred stirred. He turned for explanation to the man next him, Judge Girvin, a gentleman of the old school, weighty, authoritative, a little pompous. "That is Coleman," Judge Girvin told him. "W.T. Coleman, the leader of the vigilance movement of last year." "That's why," repeated Calhoun Bennett, with quiet vindictiveness, "lawlessness, disrespect foh law and order, mob rule. Since this strangler business, no man can predict what the lawless element may do!" This speech was the signal for an outburst against the Vigilance Committee, so unanimous and hearty that Keith was rather taken aback. He voiced his bewilderment. "Why, gentlemen, I am, of course, only in the most distant touch with these events; but the impression East is certainly very general that the Vigilantes did rather a good piece of work in clearing the city of crime." They turned on him with a savagery that took his breath. Keith, laughing, held up both hands. "Don't shoot, don't shoot! I'll come down!" he cried. "I told you I didn't know anything about it!" They checked themselves, suddenly ashamed of their heat. Calhoun Bennett voiced their feeling of apology.