Once again the telephone bell rang, long and insistently. The butler almost ran into the room. “Payson wants you, sir,” he cried to Burton, “in a hurry, sir, it's a matter of life and death, sir!” Burton sprang to the phone. When he left it he only stopped at the doorway of the living room long enough to call in: “A mob has the two prisoners at Payson and are about to lynch them, and, my God, they're innocent. We all know now who killed Paynter and I have known since morning who murdered Baggs, and it wasn't either of those men; but they've found Miss Prim's jewelry on the fellow called Bridge and they've gone crazy--they say he murdered her and the young one did for Paynter. I'm going to Payson,” and dashed from the house. “Wait,” cried Jonas Prim, “I'm going with you,” and without waiting to find a hat he ran quickly after the detective. Once in the car he leaned forward urging the driver to greater speed. “God in heaven!” he almost cried, “the fools are going to kill the only man who can tell me anything about Abigail.” ***** With oaths and threats the mob, brainless and heartless, cowardly, bestial, filled with the lust for blood, pushed and jammed into the narrow corridor before the cell door where the two prisoners awaited their fate. The single guard was brushed away. A dozen men wielding three railroad ties battered upon the grating of the door, swinging the ties far back and then in unison bringing them heavily forward against the puny iron. Bridge spoke to them once. “What are you going to do with us?” he asked. “We're goin' to hang you higher 'n' Haman, you damned kidnappers an' murderers,” yelled a man in the crowd. “Why don't you give us a chance?” asked Bridge in an even tone, unaltered by fear or excitement. “You've nothing on us. As a matter of fact we are both innocent--” “Oh, shut your damned mouth,” interrupted another of the crowd. Bridge shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the youth who stood very white but very straight in a far corner of the cell. The man noticed the bulging pockets of the ill fitting coat; and, for the first time that night, his heart stood still in the face of fear; but not for himself. He crossed to the youth's side and put his arm around the slender figure. “There's no use arguing with them,” he said. “They've made up their minds, or what they think are minds, that we're guilty; but principally they're out for a sensation. They want to see something die, and we're it. I doubt if anything could stop them now; they'd think we'd cheated them if we suddenly proved beyond doubt that we were innocent.” The boy pressed close to the man. “God help me to be brave,” he said, “as brave as you are. We'll go together, Bridge, and on the other side you'll learn something that'll surprise you. I believe there is 'another side,' don't you, Bridge?”