“Yes, but somehow God lets a lot of such trash cumber the earth. We’d better not try any more interference with his plans.” Dan hesitated, struggling with deep passion, drew a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Ye’re putty hard on me, Chief, I was goin’ ter call by Steve’s house and finish both jobs to-day, but orders is orders. I’ll take ’em from you. I won’t take ’em from nobody else. Goodbye, take care er yourself.” Billy pressed his brother’s hand, silently turned and left with Dan. When the last echo of their steps had died away John Graham stared through the iron bars for half an hour and saw only the vision of a mob of yelling, laughing Negroes and behind them the fat, white cowardly face of Steve Hoyle. He sank to the chair with a groan: “O God, if it be possible let this cup pass from me!” CHAPTER IX--THE DAY OF ATONEMENT WHEN Steve Hoyle discovered next morning that the suit of stripes which he had secured at enormous expense in bribery and hush money had been lost he was furious. The jailor laughed at his idle threats and cursed him roundly when accused of making way with the suit. Steve left in a rage to drum up a larger crowd to hoot and yell at the man he hated. Stella pressed her way through the throng of Negroes into the jail, carrying an enormous bouquet of roses in one hand and in the other a basket of delicate flowers threaded into long beautiful garlands. John determined to save her from the scene of his humiliation. “You must not go through the streets with me to the train, my dear,” he said tenderly. “Go down in a carriage and join me at the station.” “I will if they let you ride with me,” she firmly answered. “Impossible. They’ve given special orders that I shall walk.” “Then I’ll walk with you,” she said with a smile. John’s face clouded with pain. “Please, dearest, for my sake?” “It’s for your sake I’m going with you.” “They may say something to hurt you,” he pleaded. “I don’t think they will,” she said as the fire suddenly flashed from her brown eyes. “But they will, my love, they will. It’s hard enough for me. They mustn’t hurt you--I can hear them out there now--that black mob--waiting to hoot and yell--please, don’t go with me!” Stella left his cell door, stepped to the window and looked out. Steve Hoyle was passing along the lines of Negroes ranged on either side of the walk, instructing them what to say. He had massed around the door a mob of two hundred to follow his lead the moment John appeared. “Watch me,” he said, “and I’ll give you the signal. I want you to let him have it square in the face when I raise my hand. I’ll stand on the doorstep. I want a laugh first from five hundred black throats--on old-fashioned nigger laugh, long, deep and loud! It’ll be a funny sight, I promise you that.” “We watch ye,” answered a big buck Negro with a grin. Stella heard the click of the lock of John’s cell with a start and turned to find the deputy marshal standing with a pair of handcuffs.