During the whole of this excitement, Mrs. Farrington had remained motionless, striving to comprehend the meaning of it all. At first a great rage filled her heart at the thought of Stephen Frenelle talking in such a way to her husband. But when the papers had been read her anger was changed to fear, which was much increased by Farrington's excited condition. She realized that he was placed in an unenviable position, but thought not so much of the meanness of his deed as of what the neighbours would say. How could she ever hold up her head again? she wondered. How the women would talk! And then to think that Si was in danger of losing the election, all on account of this Stephen Frenelle. What business had he to interfere? It was no concern of his. She watched everything which took place, and listened eagerly to each word. She heard the chairman ordering her husband to wait until several went with him to search his safe. Then when she had seen him sink upon the seat at her side, she gave one cry and fell prostrate upon the floor.

At once several people sprang forward, and strong arms bore her through the crowd into the open air.

Farrington hardly noticed what was taking place. He sat huddled upon the seat where he had dropped, helpless and full of despair.

"Come, Mr. Farrington"--it was the chairman's voice--"we must get through with this business, and we are determined to get through with it to-night. Will you go quietly and open that safe, or must we carry you there?"

No answer coming from the wretched man, the chairman continued: "Very well, then, men, there's only one thing left--and what's your wish?"

"Drag him there," was the shout, and a yell of derision arose whilst a number of sturdy forms rushed forward. The people were wildly excited now. They realized the nature of the trick which had been imposed upon an innocent man. Had the money been merely stolen, or had Farrington committed forgery, they would have let the law take its course. But in this case the vile meanness of the deed, the criminal silence of months, stirred their hearts, inflamed their passions, and carried them beyond the bounds of reason.

"Let me alone!" yelled Farrington, as a dozen hands were laid upon him.

"Will you come, then?"

"Y-y--es," was the quaking reply.

"Well, hurry up about it," and as the wretched man started for the door, he was rushed forward by the crowd which surged about him. Hatless and almost breathless, with wild staring eyes, Farrington staggered along the road. The store was reached.

"Unlock the door," was the command, "and make haste about it."

This was soon done and the crowd pressed into the building.

"Now open the safe!" the chairman demanded, "and show us what's there."

But just here Farrington, terrified though he was, hesitated. Like the man who, about to die on the gallows, cherishes hope of deliverance almost to the last, so did he. Perhaps his friends would interfere to save him from the ignominy. But alas! his former boon companions, Tom Fletcher and his gang, were nowhere to be seen. They had quietly slunk away, fearful for their own safety from the infuriated people. Now that safe door stood only between Farrington and eternal disgrace. It was no wonder that he paused. How could he do it? The perspiration stood in great beads upon his forehead, and his knees would hardly support his body.

"I can't!" he gasped, looking imploringly around.

A yell was the only response to his appeal.

"Boys," cried the chairman, when the confusion had subsided, "there's a coil of new rope over there in the corner, and a stout tree stands outside. Suppose we give him his choice. He can either open the safe or go up to the first limb."

"Hear, hear!" was the reply, and a rush was made for the rope, a long piece cut off and a loop formed. The chairman had no idea of carrying out the latter design, and he knew very well that such an extreme measure would not be needed. It was simply a ruse to get the safe open. And in this he was right. When Farrington heard their terrible words, and saw the noose made ready, with a groan he sank upon his knees before the safe. With trembling hands he turned the steel disk, but somehow the combination would not work. Again and again he tried, the people becoming more and more impatient. They believed he was only mocking them, while in reality he was so confused that he hardly knew what he was doing. But at length the right turn was made and the heavy door swung open upon its iron hinges.

"Bring out the stuff," demanded the chairman.

One by one the articles were brought forward, and last of all from a back corner Farrington slowly dragged forth an iron box with a white cross mark upon it.

A shout of triumph rose from those who first beheld it, and then yells of derision.

"Order!" commanded the chairman.

"Is that Billy Fletcher's box?"

"Y-y-es."

"And you knew it was there all the time, and let Parson John get the blame for stealing it?"

"Y-y--es. B-b--ut fer God's sake have mercy! I--I--didn't mean to do it! I was o-only j-j--okin'! I intended to ex-p-plain everything."

There was an ominous movement among the bystanders, and those in the rear did some excited talking, while several left the building. Presently the sound of heavy blows was heard in the store-room adjoining the shop. Then a rush of feet ensued, and Farrington was suddenly caught and hurried forward. The light of a small lamp shed its feeble beams over the place, making it look more ghostly than ever. The intentions of his captors flashed into Farrington's mind. Standing there was a large cask of tar used for boats and the roofs of houses. The head had been smashed in, and the odour was pouring forth.

"Fer God's sake not that!" shrieked the wretched man. "Oh, help, help! Murder!"

But his cries were all in vain. Rough hands were laid upon him, his clothes were hurriedly ripped off, and he was lifted bodily, and lowered feet first into the black, slimy depth. He resisted, but it was useless. He was forced down upon his knees, and the tar covered him to his very ears. Silence reigned now in the room. They were determined men who were handling this nasty job, and with set mouths and intense grimness they watched the victim flounder about and then give up in despair.

When he had been soused and soaked to their satisfaction he was helped out, and with the tar dripping from his body he was led back into the main store. There a large feather-bed was seen spread out upon the floor. It had been ripped open, and into this Farrington was plunged. He yelled and cursed, but to no avail. He was rolled over and over among the yielding feathers, and when at length he was allowed to stand upon his feet he presented the picture of a strange, incongruous bird with the head and feet of a man. No hand touched him now, and he stood there not knowing what to expect.

"Go," cried the chairman pointing to the back door leading into his house, "and the sooner you pull up stakes and leave the parish the better for yourself and family."

As soon as Stephen knew that his services were no longer needed, he stood back and let matters take their course. He followed the crowd to the store to see what would happen. Not until he had seen the box with his own eyes could he be completely satisfied with his evening's work. But when at length the safe was opened and the box exposed to view, he gave a deep sigh of relief. He had waited to see what the men would do with Farrington. He knew that the punishment inflicted was just. Stephen did not believe in the mob spirit, but he realized that the most effective remedy at times was that administered when the people aroused in righteous indignation tarred and feathered the culprit, bestowed the cat-o'-nine-tails or ducked him in the nearest pond. Though not in accordance with the British Constitution it is certainly the most effective way of dealing with some mean, contemptible cases. And Farrington's was one of them. With clever legal counsel he might be able to prove that he was acting within his right in holding the money "until called for," according to the wording of the paper he had signed, while the real motive that prompted him to keep silence might not be considered at all.

Having thus seen Farrington receive his just deserts, Stephen hurried home. A light was burning in the sitting-room which his mother had left for him ere she retired for the night. He threw himself into an armchair and reviewed the exciting scenes of the evening. A weight had been suddenly lifted from his mind, and his heart was filled with thankfulness. He thought of the joy which would shine in Nellie's face when she learned how her father had been cleared of that terrible charge. He longed to see her, to look into her eyes, to clasp her hands and tell her what had so unexpectedly happened. Was she thinking of him? he wondered, and what was she doing? He realized more than ever what she meant to him. Life was unbearable without her sweet, loving presence.

At length, taking the lamp in his hand he sought his own room, but not to sleep. He threw himself upon the bed, clothes and all. But try as he might his eyes would not close. Ever before him rose that white-haired old man, with the weary face, bearing so patiently the burden of injustice. Why should he carry the load any longer? Why should he not know the truth as soon as possible? And how would he know unless someone went at once? Acting upon the thought he sprang from the bed, lighted the lamp and stole softly downstairs. He was about to leave the house, when he paused, and turning back went to a little writing-desk and drew forth a sheet of paper. Taking a pencil from his pocket he wrote a brief message to his mother, and laid it upon the dining-room table, where she would be sure to find it in the morning.

Having accomplished this he left the house and made his way to the barn. His favourite horse was startled from his sleep, and laid back his ears in resentment as the saddle was placed upon his back, and he was led out of the stable. The moon was flooding the whole land with its silver beams as Stephen sprang into the saddle and headed Dexter for the main road. Then the ring of steel-shod hoofs echoed upon the still air as horse and rider sped through the night, on to a little village far away beyond the hills.

Chapter XXVIII