“He could not be put to death for telling the secrets of the Klan to the woman he loves?” “Yes.” “And he knows this?” “Of course.” “A big, glorious, beautiful thing, a love like that, isn’t it?” she cried with strange elation, tears flashing from her eyes. “From the woman’s point of view, perhaps it is--from that of the man whose life he puts in peril, hardly.” “But from the woman’s point of view! yes--and judged by her standard, cowards who hedge and lie and fear to do such things don’t measure very high beside him--do they? I’m afraid, Steve, your love is a weak thing. It would be a pity to kill a man who would dare death to please the fancy of the woman he loves--now, wouldn’t it?” “Such a man, for example, as he who sneaked under cover of the night and struck your father dead at your feet without a chance to defend himself,” Steve sneered. “Yes! That’s the hideous thought that strangles me!” she cried, her breast heaving with a tumult of emotion, her breath coming in gasps of passion. “You are going to falter and give up?” he asked indignantly. Stella ignored his question and said in even tones as though talking to herself: “I had intended to have the United States marshals arrest him dressed in the Klan costume at their meeting place.” “And now?” Steve broke in eagerly. “I don’t know what to do. I’ll be frank with you, Steve--I never expected to keep my promise to marry you--I never really expected to face such a choice. There are times when I like you. There’s evil in me, as there is in you--cruelty, pride, selfishness--I feel our kinship. But I don’t love you, and the closer I get to you the less I love you.” “You’ll learn to love me--I’ll wait,” he broke in. “The reason why I like you less and less,” she went on, “is that I feel other forces in me which are not evil--big, generous impulses, and aspirations for things beautiful and true and good that you have never felt and could never understand.” “Which some other man might develop,” he snapped. “Well, play the baby act then, and give it all up.” “No, I’ve made up my mind to have the life of the man who took my father’s. It’s the one supreme passion which dominates my soul and body.” “He has confessed to you then?” Steve cried breathlessly. “Yes.” “Where will the men meet you?” “At Inwood immediately after dark, day after to-morrow,” she answered firmly. “It’s too early. Nine o’clock is better. The men will have time for careful preparation.” “I’ll be with him in the basement. He will be in the Klan costume; I wish him arrested and tried in that.” “It shall be exactly as you wish,” said Steve, his eyes sparkling with triumph. “And your signal to the men?” “Will be a light in the window of the basement.” “I understand--Inwood--nine o’clock at night, day after to-morrow.” Stella’s answer was scarcely a whisper: “Yes.” CHAPTER XIV--THE JUDGMENT HALL OF FATE