Meanwhile, from his vantage ground at home, trying to guess at their possible talk, Bob kept watch, deciding in his mind that what they said was probably not worth much as Miss Ogilvie kept her best stories for him. He had learned from Dick that she had never once told that young man of Tom-of-the-Woods. As he sat meditating he noticed a boy hurry up the street from the car-line below, who, as he came under the near light, proved to be none other than Tom-of-the-Woods himself. With a jump of pleasure, forgetting that he was in hiding, Bob left his perch and ran out with a greeting. "Hello, Tom!" he called. Tom looked at the little boy for a moment in perplexity, and then without answering started to walk past. "Want to see her?" Bob asked cheerfully. Tom stopped. "Yes," he answered. "I can tell you where she is," Bob went on cautiously. "What'll you give me if I let you know?" "I'm in a hurry," Tom said. "Don't fool." "Gimme your top?" Tom thrust his hand in his pocket and brought the top out. Grabbing it with one hand, Bob pointed with the other. "See her over there?" He indicated the white figure across the street. "That's her. Say," he called after Tom as he dashed away, "will it vanish for me?" "Bob, come to bed," came a man's voice from within the house, and, accepting the inevitable, Bob went within. Tom had hurried across the street. He was the bearer of bad news and had no thought for anything but the white figure ahead to whom he must bring sorrow. Running to where Hertha stood in the bright light he touched her on the arm saying gently, "Sister!" The girl started back with a cry. The sight of her brother, here in the night, unnerved her. Was he God's messenger, come out of the shadow of the past, to stop her in the path she was about to take? The thought rushed through her mind as she gave her startled cry. Then behind her came a sound like the bellowing of some wild creature, and Dick flung himself upon the Negro. With a blow he struck the lad to the earth, and holding him fast beat him fiercely. "Let him alone," Hertha cried, pulling with all her might at Dick's arm. "He did me no harm!" The man never heard her. His eyes bulging, his breath coming quick, he pounded the prostrate boy with a fury that made Hertha cry out in horror. "What's up?" A group of men came running in from the street. "What you got?" one demanded. "A nigger? Gimme a turn at him." Moving a moment from where he bent over Tom to turn to his questioners, Dick gave the lad a chance to wriggle from his grasp. In an instant the black boy was on his feet and running from his enemy into the darkness of the park. "Catch him," Dick cried, leaping up and calling on the others. "Lynch the nigger!"