“I can’t stand it, John, I can’t--oh, dear, you don’t understand, and I can’t explain--You love me?” “Better than life and deeper than death.” “And yet you refuse my heart’s desire?” “Only in this. I’m done with lawlessness. I’m not a coward. I’ve led a successful revolution. It had to be, and now with silent lips I’ll face my accusers.” A hot tear fell on his hand. “Come, dearest, you must help me,” he pleaded. “Yes, yes, I will,” she faltered, brushing the tears away. “Come then, we will have this one little supper together, shall we not?” “Yes. I want to look across that old table into your face again.” He chatted gaily through the supper and she sat silent, choking back the sobs, unable to eat. The sergeant bowed at the door: “Axin yer pardon m’am, but I must hurry now.” John rose and the trooper again drew his handcuffs, Stella watching him with wide-set eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll have to put ’em on.” “It’s all right, sergeant,” he answered. Stella sprang between them and placed a trembling little hand on the trooper’s. “Please, sergeant!” “Orders, m’am, I’m sorry.” “Please--for--my--sake--don’t. He’ll go with you. I tried to get him to fly with me, and he wouldn’t. You won’t put them on him--will you? For my sake?” Her voice sank to the softest music of tears. The sergeant hesitated a moment and said gruffly: “All right, for your sake, m’am, I won’t.” John stooped and kissed her. The door closed behind him and with a low piteous moan Stella sank to the floor, crying: “God have mercy on me!” CHAPTER II--THROUGH PRISON BARS AN IMMENSE crowd had gathered at the hotel awaiting John’s arrival. The news of his arrest had stirred the town to feverish excitement. Without turning to the right or left, or answering a look of recognition, he marched between two soldiers through the mass of men and boys in the office and climbed the stairs to the rooms of the United States Commissioner who was waiting to receive him. The Commissioner handed him the warrant and he merely glanced at its title: “THE UNITED STATES VERSUS JOHN GRAHAM CONSPIRACY AND MURDER” “I shall hold you without bail, Mr. Graham,” said the Commissioner. John merely nodded his head. “To the county jail, sergeant!” The soldiers turned and John descended the stairs, and again passed through the crowd, his head erect, his face an immovable mask. In fifteen minutes the heavy bolt shot into place and he was a prisoner awaiting trial for life, locked in a filthy cell of the common jail of the county of Independence. He had often been to this jail as a lawyer to interview prisoners whom he had defended at various times, but he had paid no attention to the building. The complaints of the discomforts of the jail he had always taken as a humorous contribution to life.