Once more alone with Bobbie, Jinnie sat down to think. How could she rescue him from this awful position? How get him back to Peggy? Somehow she felt that if she could be sure the little boy was safe, she could go away to the place Morse had described with at least a little relief. That day Lafe's accusers were to try him before a jury----. She had almost lost hope for the cobbler--he was lame, had no friends, and was a Jew, one of the hated race. She knew how the people of Bellaire despised the Jews. For Peggy she didn't worry so much. Jordan Morse had given his solemn promise that, if Lafe died in the electric chair--and she died to the world--he would be of financial assistance to Peggy. She sat studying Bobbie attentively. The child's face was pathetically white and she could see the quick palpitation of his heart under his jacket. "I heard what the black man said, Jinnie," Bobbie blurted presently, sinking in a little heap. "I mean when he had you in the other room a little while ago. You was beggin' him to help me; wasn't you, Jinnie?" Jinnie went to him quickly and gathered him into her arms. "Bobbie," she implored, "you must never let him know, never, never, that you heard him talking. He might hurt you worse than he has." Bobbie flashed his eyes questioningly in evident terror. "What'd he hurt me more for? I ain't done nothin' to him." "I guess because he's bad, dear," said Jinnie sadly. "Then if he's bad, why do you stay here?" He clung to her tremulously. "Take me away, Jinnie!" "I can't!" lamented Jinnie. "I've told you, Bobbie, the door's locked." She could lovingly deceive him no longer. How the little body trembled! How the fluttering hands sought her aid in vain! "My stars're all gone, Jinnie," sobbed Bobbie. "My beautiful stars! I can't see any of 'em if I try. I'm awful 'fraid, honey dear. It's so dark." Jinnie tightened her arms about him, racking her brain for soothing words. "But Lafe's God is above the dark, Bobbie," she whispered reverently. "We've got to believe it, dearie! God is back up there ... just up there." She took his slender forefinger and pointed upward. "How does God look, Jinnie? Just how does he look?" "I've never seen him," admitted the girl, "but I think, Bobbie, I think he looks like Lafe. I know he smiles like him anyway." "I'm glad," sighed the boy. "Then He'll help us, won't He? Lafe would if he could. If you say He will, He will, Jinnie!" Five tense minutes passed in silence. Then: "Sure we couldn't get out of the window, dearie?" asked Bobbie. "They're locked, too," answered the girl, low-toned. "I'd bust 'em out," volunteered the boy, with sudden enthusiasm. "But there's a deep gorge in front of every one, honey," replied Jinnie sadly.