The Judge could see the movement of his hand as he slowly drew the knife from its sheath, the blade glistening for an instant in the dim lamplight, but he still thought the boys were playing a prank on him. “Well, gentlemen, have your fun!” he cried with forced gaiety, “Have your way, I’m at your service. What is the penalty I must pay to-night for my many sins against the Klan?” “The penalty is your life,” said the mask with sullen menace in his tones, stepping closer, “unless you agree to leave this state to-morrow and never enter it again--will you go?” “So bad as that?” The Judge forced a laugh. “What else?” “You are not fooling with boys now!” sullenly said the towering white form. “Give me your answer, you d------d old sneaking coward! Will you go or do you prefer to die?” Butler, trembling now with mingled terror and rage, cried angrily: “Gentlemen, your joke is going too far!” “It’ll go farther,” was the quick reply, as the white figures closed in threateningly and the foremost man moved as if to raise his hand. “Enough of this! Get out of my house!” Butler suddenly shouted, snatching the mask from the leader’s head by a quick unexpected display of courage. A cry of horror and surprise leaped from his lips. The knife flashed, and was buried in his heart. He reeled, staggered, clutched a chair and sank with a groan to a sitting posture. His long awkward arms drooped and his head sank slowly on his breast. The leader, who had quickly replaced his helmet, bent over him a moment, sheathed his knife and said: “A good stroke--all right--quick now--open the doors and follow me.” The guard at the door leading into the ballroom opened it gently and the sweet strains of the music rang through the hall with startling distinctness, as the white-masked figures slowly disappeared through the panel under the stairs. Aunt Julie Ann who had heard the Judge’s cry and the sudden noise entered trembling. “Name er God what’s dis!” she cried. “De light gone out! De ghost done dat!” She turned up the lamp and saw the Judge sitting dead in the chair, the scarlet stain on his clean ruffled shirt holding her for a moment in speechless horror. Screaming at last, she rushed to the ballroom door and shouted: “De Lawd hab mussy! De ghost done kill de Judge--Stab ’im fro de heart!” The music stopped with a crash and the crowd rushed into the hall. [Illustration: 0157] Stella stared at the lifeless form, her beautiful face whiter than the dead, turned to the masqueraders huddled in a group, drew herself proudly erect, pointed to the door and said: “Go!” Silently and quickly they left, and as the last beat of their horses’ hoofs died away in the distance she lifted her face from her father’s hand which she had covered with kisses, and groaned: “Forgive me--forgive me! I have but one aim in life now--God give me strength!” BOOK II--A WOMAN’S REVENGE CHAPTER I--STELLA’S RESOLUTION