“Which do you think?” Billy asked, looking vaguely out the window. “I’ll answer you by asking a question, and I want you to answer on the honour of a Graham. Are you a member of Steve Hoyle’s Klan?” “You have no right to ask that question,” was the hot reply. “Yes, I have,” John slowly said, “for two reasons. As the organiser of the original Ku Klux Klan in this state I hold myself in a measure responsible for its existence even in its lowest forms. But that’s not all, my boy, you’re my brother, and I love you.” Billy’s eyes blinked and he looked at the ceiling. He had never heard such an expression from John’s lips before. “I wish I’d slipped my arm around you and told you that long ago. I’ve always been proud of your high-strung, sensitive spirit, proud in my own heart that we were of the same blood, and I want to ask you to forgive me for seeing so little of you and being of so little help to you.” A sob caught the boy’s breath. “You’ll let me help you now?” John asked tenderly, extending his hand. Billy rose trembling, his eyes running over with tears, took a step toward the door, turned and threw himself into John’s arms, sobbing bitterly. The older brother held him close for a moment in silence, and slowly said at last: “Now tell me.” “I was at Judge Butler’s that night!” John sank to a chair with a groan. “My God! I knew it!” “But, of course, you know that I had nothing to do with any attack on a man in whose house I was a guest,” he went on rapidly. “The whole thing is a horrible mystery to us all. Every man in our crowd was in the ballroom dancing.” “How did you know that?” John interrupted sharply. “Because I counted them as they entered.” “_You_ counted them?” “Yes.” “Then you were in command of the crowd?” Billy hesitated a moment, and said: “Yes!” John drew a deep breath and turned his head away in anguish. “I could not resist the temptation to lead them. I wanted to see inside the old house again--you understand. I never dreamed of anything happening.” “None of the boys were drinking?” “No, and there wasn’t a fool among them--they were all my chums and friends in town.” “Then go at once and tell them that I say to put a thousand miles between them and this town in the next forty-eight hours--to Texas if possible.” “Why?” asked Billy with a touch of wounded pride. “There are a hundred reasons--one is enough. There’s a price on the head of the man who committed that crime.” “My men didn’t do it!” “Granted. But one of these fine days a white-livered traitor may crawl from your Klan and claim his reward of gold or office. You will be convicted in ten minutes.” Billy turned pale, and straightened his boyish figure. “Well, I’ll tell my men to go. I’ll not run.” “You can serve your men best by going. The bravest general always knows when to retreat.” “I’ll stand my ground.”