Larkin had captured Isaac, but his influence had not reached his wife. For any white man who stayed at a Negro’s house her contempt was beyond words. That the house happened to be her husband’s only aggravated the offence. “I must see him,” urged Larkin. “He’s in bed sick, I tell ye!” “But you had’nt told me,” protested the Carpetbagger. “Well I tells ye now. De Judge ain’t lif’ his head offen de piller ter day. De ghosts wuz here agin las’ night--an’ you’d better be a movin ‘fore Miss Stella find you here. She sick de dog on you.” Larkin took a threatening step toward her and said in low tones: “Shut your mouth, and tell the Judge I’m here to see him on important business. I’m not going out of this house until I do see him. Tell him so.” Aunt Julie Ann turned muttering and slowly climbed the stairs to Butler’s room. In a moment the Judge came down, hastily dressed in a faded slouchy dressing-gown and a pair of bedroom slippers. “Is it possible,” exclaimed Larkin, “that you know nothing of what’s happened here within the past twenty-four hours?” “I’ve been sick in bed. Haven’t left the house,” was the nervous reply. “Well, it’s time you knew at least what is going on in the house.” The Judge shivered and glanced up into the galleries. “What do you mean?” he feebly asked. Larkin rapidly sketched to him the events which had thrown the town into a ferment. “But what I called for,” observed the Carpetbagger, “was to enquire, as your political adviser, whether you really intend to permit your daughter to receive here to-night this gang of masked cutthroats as your guests?” The Judge rose trembling. “My daughter receive the Ku Klux Klan here to-night?” he gasped. “She has invited them, and in spite of the excitement it is rumoured that they will promptly appear in full costume at ten o’clock.” “Impossible, Larkin, impossible! They won’t dare such a thing. Besides, of course, my daughter will stop it.” “How can she stop it? Her invitation was by their sign of the scarlet bow. They have devised no signal to stop such a festival.” “She must find a way at once,” cried the Judge excitedly, “otherwise we must wire for troops.” “It’s too late.” “We’ll order a special if necessary. I’ll call my daughter at once.” Larkin rose as if to go. “Wait,” continued the Judge, “I wish you to be present.” He summoned Maggie, sent for Stella, and picked up his mail lying on the centre table, and opened it with fumbling nervous fingers while awaiting his daughter’s appearance. The Carpetbagger smiled contemptuously at his lack of good breeding, and studied the room while the Judge read his letters. “I see here some friend has written me a warning against the dangers of such a meeting,” cried Butler, his beady eyes dancing with excitement. “We must stop it, Larkin, we must stop it!” Maggie slowly descended the stairs. “Well, well, where’s your mistress?” spluttered the Judge.