Douglas did not remain long at Mrs. Dempster's after his conversation with Jean. Bidding the widow and Joe good-bye, he made his way swiftly across the fields by a well-worn path to the main highway. He was anxious to see Nell as she had been much in his mind since the night of the attack. To his joy, he found her sitting alone by the big tree on the shore with a book lying open in her lap. An expression of pleasure overspread her face as she welcomed her visitor, and offered him a chair by her side.

"Father was sitting here," she explained, "but he became unusually sleepy this afternoon, so he is now lying down in the house. Nan is out in the boat with Sadie Parks, a girl friend, gathering water-lilies, so I have been having a quiet time all by myself."

"A most remarkable thing for you, is it not?" Douglas asked, mentally blessing the professor for becoming sleepy, and Nan for going for the lilies.

"It certainly is. It has been a long time since I have not read to father every Sunday afternoon."

It seemed to Douglas as if heaven had suddenly opened to him as he sat there by Nell's side. She looked more beautiful than ever, so he thought, clad in a simple dress of snowy whiteness, open at the throat, exposing a little gold cross, pendant from a delicate chain fastened around her neck. Her dark, luxuriant hair was brushed carefully back, though a few wayward tresses drifted temptingly over cheek and brow. Her dark sympathetic eyes beamed with interest as Douglas related his experiences of the day, and his conversation with the invalid girl.

"I am so thankful that Jean knows the truth," she quietly remarked when
Douglas had finished. "But isn't it terrible what Ben did to her at
Long Wharf! I knew he was bad, but I had no idea he would do such a
thing as that."

Further private conversation was now out of the question on account of Nan's arrival with her girl friend. She was carrying a large bunch of dripping white water-lilies, which she flung down upon the ground.

"My, what a nice little cosy time you two are having," she exclaimed.
"It is too bad that you have to be disturbed."

"It certainly is," Douglas laughingly replied. "We were quite happy here by ourselves. Why didn't you stay longer out on the river?"

"Because I don't like to see people too happy, that is the reason," and Nan flopped herself down upon the ground, and began to weave a wreath of lilies with her deft fingers. "Come, Sadie," she ordered, "you make one, too. My, it's hot! Nell's always cool and never flustered," she continued, as she snapped off a stem and tucked a lily into its proper place.

"It's necessary for some one to be cool," her sister replied. "I do not know what would happen if I didn't try to keep my senses."

Nan merely tossed her head and went on with her work. She was certainly a remarkable specimen of healthy, buoyant girlhood, with face aglow and eyes sparkling with animation. What a subject she would make for an artist, Douglas mused as he watched her as she worked and talked.

"There," Nan at length cried, as she held up her finished wreath for inspection. "Give it to the fairest, sir," she dramatically demanded.

"The Judgment of Paris, eh?" Douglas smiled.

"No; your judgment."

"That would be rather embarrassing, would it not?"

"I dare you to do it," and she dangled the wreath before him.

"Come, come, Nan," Nell chided. "Don't be foolish. You make Mr.
Handyman feel badly."

"That's just what I want to do. He has neglected me, and I want to punish him."

"Give me the wreath," and Douglas stretched out his hand.

Rising to his feet, he placed the beautiful lilies upon Nell's head, and then stepped back to view the effect.

"There," and he turned to Nan, "I have accepted your dare, so I hope you are satisfied."

"You mean thing!" the girl pouted. "I don't want anything more to do with you. Come, Sadie, let's go for a walk. We're not wanted here."

"You must not go now, Nan," her sister ordered. "It will soon be tea time, and I want you to help me. Father will be awake soon."

The time sped all too quickly for Douglas, and he wondered what would happen before he should spend another such pleasant afternoon with Nell. She did not remove the wreath he had placed upon her head until that evening after he had left her at the cottage door. Then she placed it in a dish of water to keep the lilies fresh as long as possible in memory of that happy day. A strange happiness possessed her, and her heart was full of peace such as she had never before experienced.

Douglas had the feeling that he was now nearing a crisis in his sojourn at Rixton, and the next morning he told Jake that he had better get another man to help him.

"What! Surely ye'r not goin' to leave us, are ye?" Jake exclaimed.

"Not just yet," Douglas informed him. "But I may not be able to give you full service for a while. And, besides, if this trial should go against me, I may be forced to leave the place after all. If Squire Hawkins fails to give justice and allows Ben to go free, what am I to do?" Douglas merely asked this to see what Jake would say.

"So ye think that Hen Hawkins might not give ye justice, eh? Is that what's botherin' ye?"

"Oh, it's not bothering me very much, only it might shorten my stay here, that's all. It will be no use for me to remain in this place with all the people against me. I can go elsewhere."

"The hull people'll not be aginst ye," and Jake brought his big fist down upon the kitchen table with a bang. "Mebbe they'll have a few things to say if Hen Hawkins isn't on the square. I know that him an' the Stubbles eat out of the same trough. But great punkins! they'll dance on the same griddle if they're not keerful."

Douglas was surprised at the number of men gathered at the hall when he and Jake arrived that afternoon. Most of them were sitting or standing in little groups outside, discussing the one important question of the day. Just what they were saying he could not tell, as the time had come for the trial to begin and the men flocked into the building. Squire Hawkins was sitting on the platform, and by his side was his clerk with pen and paper before him, ready to take down the evidence.

"Guess the Squire has closed his store this afternoon," Jake whispered to his companion. "He's got his clerk with him to do the writin'."

Douglas noticed that Ben Stubbles was not in the hall, but he saw Tom and Pete with the other men who had taken part in the attack, sitting in the front seat. Had Ben been summoned? he wondered. He wanted the rascal to be present to hear all that would be said.

The trial was the most peculiar and interesting one Douglas had ever witnessed. Squire Hawkins did not know how to conduct the case, but what he lacked in knowledge he made up in words and a pompous manner. He was feeling his importance on this occasion, and was determined to make the most of it. Rising to his feet, he stated the charges that had been made against Tom Totten and Pete Rollins. Then he ordered the offenders to come forward.

"You have heard the charges made against you, have you not?" he asked.

"We have," was the reply.

"Are you guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty, sir."

This candid admission was a surprise to the Squire, as he had expected that the men would emphatically deny the charges. He was not prepared for this, and hardly knew how to proceed. He frowned, twisted in his chair, and felt most uncomfortable. The staring and gaping audience greatly embarrassed him.

"S-so you confess your guilt, eh?" he at length stammered.

"Yes, sir; we do."

"Are you not afraid of the consequences!"

"What are they?"

"W-well, I h-have to see about that. I'm not just sure yet. But why did you make the attack upon Mr. Handyman?"

"We were ordered to do so, sir," Tom replied.

"H'm, I see," and the Squire rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his right hand. He was thinking clearly now, and realised how necessary it was for him to be most discreet with his questions. "Were there just two of you?" he presently asked.

"No, sir."

"Who were the others?"

"They can speak for themselves, sir."

No sooner had the words left Tom's mouth than four men stepped forward.

"And were you in the trouble, too?" the Squire questioned.

"Yes, sir," the spokesman replied. "We was with Tom an' Pete. We're guilty, too."

"Well, I must say you are a fine bunch of nighthawks," and the Squire gave a slight, sarcastic laugh. "You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves."

"We're more'n ashamed, sir," Tom replied; "we're disgusted."

"Disgusted at what?"

"At makin' sich fools of ourselves, an' bein' the tools of another."

"But you are responsible men, and why do you try to shift the blame to other shoulders?" the Squire sternly demanded.

"Because we'd been drinkin', sir. We really didn't know what we was doin' that night. The whiskey was given us an' we was ready for any divilment. That's the long and short of it."

Squire Hawkins now rose slowly to his feet and looked upon the audience before him.

"Gentlemen," he began, "I do not see any reason why I should prolong this enquiry. These men have confessed everything, and there is nothing more for me to do except to impose the penalties. I shall be very lenient as this is the first time they have been brought before me. But I wish to warn you all that if I am called upon to deal with such a case again, I shall be very severe."

No sooner had the Squire sat down, than Douglas was on his feet. He had listened with almost incredulous amazement to the way in which the enquiry had been conducted, and he knew that if some one did not interfere, the one who was really guilty would escape.

"May I be allowed to speak?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose so, providing you are brief and to the point," was the somewhat reluctant assent.

"I have been very much surprised at this enquiry," Douglas began, "and I wish to call attention to certain matters which have been passed over without any consideration at all. These men before you, sir, have pleaded guilty to the charges which I made against them. They have confessed that they were given liquor and ordered to attack me last Friday night. But you have not asked them who the person is who ordered the attack and gave them the whiskey. Is it not right that you should do so, sir, that we may know who was really at the bottom of that cowardly affair?"

"Hear, hear," came from several in the audience. "You are right. Let us know the person's name."

"Your question has no bearing upon this case," Squire Hawkins angrily replied. "These offenders have acknowledged their guilt, and they alone are the responsible ones and must bear the whole blame."

"But why did they attack me?" Douglas asked. "They had no ill will against me; they were merely tools in the hands of another. The one who set them on evidently wished to do me an injury. He is the guilty one, and I demand that you inquire who he is."

"Then you can keep on demanding," was the surly response. "I am conducting this case and not you."

A murmur of disapproval passed through the audience, and several cries of "Shame" were heard. Squire Hawkins was feeling very angry and at the same time uneasy. He was between two fires. He was afraid of the people, and yet he had a greater fear of the Stubbles. As he hesitated, not knowing what to do, Tom Totten cleared his throat and turned partly around.

"If yez want to know who put us on to that nasty job, I'll tell yez," he began. "It was Ben Stubbles who did it. He gave us the whiskey, an' ordered us to waylay Jake Jukes' hired man an' beat him up. That's God's truth, an' we are all ready to swear to it."

During the inquiry Ben had entered the hall and remained near the door. He listened to all that took place with much amusement. He felt perfectly secure and trusted to Squire Hawkins to shield him from any blame. He enjoyed Douglas' apparent defeat when his request was refused. But Tom's voluntary information was entirely unexpected. He had never for an instant imagined that the man would dare make such a statement. His momentary consternation gave way to furious anger and he at once hurried up the aisle.

"What in h—— are you giving us?" he demanded from Tom. "What do you mean by bringing my name into this affair?"

Tom stared in amazement at the irate man before him, for he could hardly believe his senses. Then his eyes blazed with indignation as he grasped the significance of the scoundrel's words.

"I've been givin' the truth, Ben Stubbles," he replied, "an' ye know it as well as we do."

"You lie," and Ben stamped hard upon the floor in his rage. "You were beastly drunk, got into trouble, and then lay the blame on me. That's a nice way to do things."

Douglas could hardly control himself at these brazen words. Jake, sitting by his side, was wriggling and muttering many "Great punkins!" under his breath. In fact, the entire assembly was becoming restless and ready for almost anything. But Tom remained remarkably calm. He took a step forward and faced the Squire.

"Ye hear what Ben says, sir," he began, "an' ye've heard what we've said. It's six to one, an' we're ready to swear any time on the Good Book that what we've told ye is true. Which d'ye believe; him or us?"

The Squire now was in a worse fix than ever. He mopped his perspiring forehead with a big handkerchief and looked helplessly around. He longed for the platform to open and swallow him up. But no such miraculous relief was granted. The issue was before him, and he knew he had to face it.

"I—I think I shall reserve judgment," he stammered, "until I have given this matter due consideration."

"But we want ye to decide now, sir," Tom insisted. "We want to know what ye're goin' to do before we leave the hall. It's six to one, an' any kid could figger that out, without waitin'."

"Hear, hear," came from several in the room.

"But I must have time to think it out carefully," the Squire replied. "You were drunk when you made the attack, and it was easy then for you to imagine almost anything."

"But we weren't drunk, sir, when Ben met us that night, an' gave us the whiskey, an' told us what to do, was we?" and he turned to his companions.

"No, no," came as one from the lined-up men.

As Squire Hawkins' eyes wandered first from the six men to Ben and then back again in an uncertain manner, an idea suddenly flashed into his mind. He grasped it in an instant.

"Look here," he demanded. "I am not dealing with Mr. Benjamin Stubbles now, but with you six men who, according to your own confession, made the attack. If necessary, I can take up his case later. You are the men I have been called upon to try, and not Mr. Stubbles. I, therefore, declare you guilty of waylaying one, John Handyman by name, with the intention of afflicting bodily injury, and also of breaking into Professor Strong's house. These are very serious offences, but as this is the first time you have been before me I shall make the penalty very light, and impose the fine of only ten dollars upon each of you. That is my decision, and I hope you are satisfied."

Douglas was upon his feet in an instant.

"You are perverting justice," he cried. "You know who is the guilty man and you are letting him go free. I demand that you give a different judgment, or at least be man enough to acknowledge that you are afraid to give any decision against Ben Stubbles."

"Hear, hear," came from all parts of the room, and in the excitement that followed, Squire Hawkins declared the trial ended and left the building with Ben as quickly as possible.

Douglas was thoroughly disgusted at the farce he had just witnessed. He was somewhat disheartened as well. What hope had he of accomplishing anything when the man appointed to administer British justice exhibited such a spirit of partiality and cringing cowardice? The men around him were greatly excited, though he felt that nothing could be expected from them. They might storm and rage at the injustice, but they would bow their necks as in the past to the Stubbles' yoke and endure every indignity.

Leaving the hall and the babel of voices, he hurried up the road. The unpolluted air was refreshing and he became calmer. Presently an idea flashed into his mind, which brought a flush to his cheeks and caused his eyes to kindle with a new hope. "Strange I didn't think of it before," he mused. "But perhaps it is not too late yet. I shall try it, anyway."