IN WHICH MR. LEECH SPRINGS A TRAP WITH MUCH SUCCESS

The developments of the trial decided Jacquelin to offer immediately an amended bill, setting up all the facts that had come out. Steve Allen went South to follow up the fresh clew and obtain new evidence, and on his return it was rumored that he had been successful. Meantime Still had recovered sufficiently to be taken to a watering-place—for his health, it was said—and Leech was engaged in other parts of the State looking after his prospective canvass for the Governorship. Leech’s candidacy and the final issue of the Red Rock case had become closely associated. It was charged that Leech had been engaged with Still in the attempt to perpetrate a fraud; and it was intimated that, if the Red Rock case should be won by the Grays, it would be followed by the prosecution of Still and possibly of Leech. Captain Allen’s connection with the case, together with the part he had taken in public matters, had brought him forward as the leader of the opposition to Leech, not only in the County, but throughout the State. Dr. Still was absent, dutifully looking after his father, and, rumor said, also looking after his own prospects in another field. Whether these reports were all true or not, the three men were all absent from the County, and the County breathed more freely by reason thereof. It was an unquestioned fact that when they were absent, peace returned.

It was, however, but the calm before the storm.

In the interval that came, Jacquelin once more brought his suit. It was based on the disclosure made at the first trial, and the bill was this time against Still alone. Major Welch, as stated, had insisted on reconveying his part of the land to Jacquelin. He said he could not sleep with that land in his possession. So Jacquelin and Rupert were the owners of it, and Major Welch took it on a lease.

The suit matured, and once more the term of court approached. The people of the County were in better spirits. The evidence that Steve had secured in the South was believed to fill the broken links. On the decision depended everything. It was recognized on both sides that it was not now a mere property question, but a fight for supremacy. The old citizens were making a stand against the new powers. There was talk of Rupert’s coming home. He had been in the West with Captain Thurston, acting as a volunteer scout, and had distinguished himself for his bravery. One particular act of gallantry, indeed, had attracted much attention. In a fight with the Indians, a negro trooper belonging to one of the companies had been wounded and during a check had fallen from his horse. Rupert had heard his cries, and had gone back under a heavy fire and, lifting him on his horse, had brought him off. The first that was heard of it in the County was through a letter of Captain Thurston’s to Miss Welch. When Rupert was written to about it, he said he could not let Steve and Jack have all the honors: “And the fact is,” he added, “when I heard the negro boy calling, I could not leave him to save my life.”

Within a month after the reinstitution of the suit, Captain Thurston’s company had come back from the West, and there was talk of efforts being made to have the old prosecution against Rupert dismissed. It was reported that he would come home and testify at the trial. Since his memory had been refreshed he recollected perfectly the incident of stepping on the paper.

Rumors of what might follow the trial were increasing daily. It was even said that Leech was trying to make up with Governor Krafton, and that negotiations were pending between them by which one of them would become Governor and the other Senator.

Steve Allen asserted boldly that it was much more likely that one of them would be in the penitentiary, unless the other pardoned him. This speech was repeated to Leech, who blinked uneasily. He went North that night.

In view of these facts, the old County was in better spirits than it had enjoyed for some time.

Dr. Washington Still’s attentions to his father, after the father’s “attack” at the trial of the Red Rock case, were, however, not so filial as they were reported to be. Had the truth been known, he was not so attentive to his father’s interest as he was to that of another member of the Still family. While the trial and its strange denouement had affected the elder Still to the point of bringing on a slight attack of paralysis, it affected Dr. Still also very seriously, though in a different way.

After the entertainment at Red Rock, Dr. Still fancied that he saw much improvement in his chances with Miss Krafton. He had expected to impress her with Red Rock, and she had been impressed. The pictures had particularly struck her. He had told her of as many of the portraits as he could remember, inventing names and histories for most of them. He had not thought it necessary to go into any elaborate explanation, consequently he had not mentioned the fact that they were the ancestors of the man who was suing for the recovery of the place. Miss Krafton had heard of the suit and referred to it casually. Dr. Still scouted the idea of his title being questioned. His grandfather had lived there, and his father had been born on the place. He did not mention the house in which his father was born. He only intimated that in some way they had been straitened in their circumstances before the war, at some period which he made vaguely distant; and he spoke of their later success somewhat as of a recovery of their estate. The suit, he asserted, had been instigated purely by spite. It was simply one of the customary attempts to annoy Union men and Northern settlers—it was really brought more against Major Welch than his father. Miss Krafton had met Major Welch, and had declared that she adored him. Dr. Still’s eyes blinked complacently.

Miss Krafton was manifestly interested, and the Doctor after this began to have more hopes of his success than he had ever had. He allowed himself to fall really in love with her.

His father’s connection with the bonds of his former employer suddenly threatened to overthrow the whole structure that Dr. Still was so carefully building. The story of the bonds was told, with all its accessories, in such newspapers as were conducted by the old residents; and although Miss Krafton might never have heard of it from them, as she had never seen a copy of such a journal in her life, the papers that were on her father’s side undertook to answer the story. It was an elaborate answer—a complete answer—if true. It ought to have been complete, for Dr. Washington Still inspired it, if he did not write it. The trouble was, it was too complete. It was not content with answering, it attacked; and it by innuendo attacked Major Welch. Miss Krafton might not have believed the story, if it had been confined to Mr. Gray and Mr. Still; but when Major Welch had accepted the story, and, as was stated, had even reconveyed his property to Mr. Gray, it was a different matter.

Miss Krafton had conceived a high opinion of Major Welch. He was so different from all others whom she had seen at the entertainment at Red Rock or had met at her father’s table. She knew of the Welches’ high social standing. She had met Miss Welch, and had been delighted with her also. The partial similarity of their situations had drawn her to Ruth, and Ruth’s sweetness had charmed her. When the story of the Red Rock suit came out, Miss Krafton’s curiosity was aroused. She wrote to Miss Welch and asked her about it.

Dr. Still had now begun to press his suit in earnest. He too had schemes which a union with Governor Krafton would further. Leech was becoming too constant a visitor at the governor’s mansion to suit the young physician, and the latter was planning to forestall him.

When Dr. Still called on Miss Krafton next, after she had made her inquiry of Miss Welch, as he waited in her drawing-room his eye fell on a letter lying open on a table. He thought he recognized the handwriting as that of Miss Welch; and as he looked at it to verify this, he caught the name “Red Rock.” He could not resist the temptation to read what she had said, and, picking up the letter, he glanced at the first page. It began with a formal regret that she could not accept Miss Krafton’s invitation to visit her, and then continued:

“As to your request to tell you the true story of Mr. Hiram Still’s connection with the Red Rock case, which the papers have been so full of, I feel——” What it was that she felt, Dr. Still did not discover, for at this point the page ended, and just then there was a rustle of skirts outside the door. Dr. Still replaced the letter only in time to turn and meet Miss Krafton as she entered. He had never seen her so handsome; but there was something in her manner to him which he had never felt before. She was cold, he thought—almost contemptuous. He wondered if she could have seen him through the door reading her letter. Partly to sound her as to this, and partly to meet the statements which he feared Miss Welch had made, he turned the conversation to the Welches. He began to praise them mildly, at the same time speaking of their impracticability and prejudices, and incidentally hinting that Major Welch had sold out to the Grays. To this Miss Krafton replied so warmly that the young man began to try another tack. Miss Krafton, however, did not unbend. She launched out in such eulogy of Major Welch, of Mrs. Welch, and of Miss Welch that Dr. Still was quite overwhelmed. He mentioned the account that had appeared in her father’s organ. Miss Krafton declared that she did not believe a word of it. Major Welch had stated that it was wholly untrue. She asserted with spirit, that if she were a man, she would rather starve than have a dollar that was not gotten honestly; and if ever she married, it would be to a man like Major Welch. Her color had risen and her eyes were flashing.

Dr. Still gazed at her in a half-dazed way, and a curious expression came over his face. It was no time for him to push matters to an extreme.

Well, some women are innocent, he thought, as he came down the steps. And his eyes had an ugly look in them.

When he reached home his father was waiting for him. The young man attacked him so furiously that he was overwhelmed. He began to try to defend himself. He had done nothing, he declared feebly; but whatever he had done, had been for his sake. His voice was almost a whimper.

His son broke out in a fury:

“For my sake! That’s your plea! And a pretty mess you’ve made of it! Just as I was about to succeed—to make me the talk of the State!—to make me appear the son of a—thief! You’ve stood in my way all my life. But for you, I might have been anything. I am ashamed of you—I’ve always been ashamed of you. But I did not think you’d have been such a—fool!” He walked up and down the room, wringing his hands and clutching the air.

“Washy—Washy—hear me,” pleaded the father, rising totteringly from his arm-chair, and with outstretched hands trying to follow his son.

Wash Still made a gesture, half of contempt and half of rage, and burst out of the door.

As his son slammed the door behind him, Hiram Still stood for a moment, turned unsteadily to his chair, threw up his hands, and, tottering, fell full length on the floor.

The newspaper of which McRaffle was one of the editors stated a day or two later that “our fellow-citizens will be glad to learn that the honored Colonel Hiram Still is rapidly recovering from his paralytic stroke, owing to the devoted attentions and skill of his son, the eminent young physician, Dr. Washington Still, for whom we are prepared to predict a remarkable career.” It “further congratulated all honest men that Colonel Still would be well in time to attend the trial of the so-called suit, instituted against him by his political enemies, which suit, to the editor’s own personal knowledge, was neither more nor less than a malicious persecution.”

How much Dr. Still paid for this notice was known only to two men, unless Leech also knew; for Leech and McRaffle were becoming very intimate.

It had been supposed that Mr. Hiram Still’s illness would put off the trial of the Red Rock case; but Mr. Leech, who had just returned from the North, declared publicly that the trial would come off as already scheduled, at the next term. He further intimated that those who were setting traps for him would learn that he could set a few traps himself. This declaration set at rest the fears that had been entertained that the Red Rock case would be postponed.

Leech made good his word, and when it was least anticipated sprang the trap he had prepared. It was a complete surprise and almost a complete success; and when Leech counted up his game, he had, with a single exception, bagged every man in the County from whom he had received an affront, or against whom he cherished a grudge.

One Sunday morning, about daylight, as Jerry was returning to Brutusville from some nocturnal excursion, when only a mile or two from the village, he was startled to come on a body of cavalry, on the march. They were headed toward Brutusville, and with them were Colonel Leech and Captain McRaffle. A shrewd guess satisfied Jerry that it must mean some mischief to Captain Allen. Curiosity and interest prompted him to fall in with them; but the men he addressed knew nothing, and were grumbling at having to take a long night-ride. Jerry pressed on to the head of the column, where he saw Leech. He touched his hat, and passed on as if he were in a great hurry. Leech, however, called him, and began to question him, but soon discovered that he was drunk—too drunk to be wholly intelligent, but, fortunately, sober enough to give a good deal of valuable information. Leech gathered from him that no one had the slightest idea that troops were coming to Brutusville, unless Captain Allen had. The Captain, Jerry said, had left Brutusville the evening before, and had gone to a friend’s in the upper end of the County to spend Sunday. Jerry knew this, because the Captain had told him to meet him there with his horse in time for church; but Jerry was not going. He “had had enough of that man,” he said. He was not going to work for him any more. The Captain had threatened to beat him. Here Jerry, at the memory of his wrongs, fell into a consuming rage, and cursed Captain Allen so heartily that he almost propitiated Leech. It was a matter of regret to Leech that Steve Allen was not in Brutusville, and so could not be arrested at once. This, however, could be remedied if a part of the company were detailed to catch him before he learned of their arrival. Leech would himself go with the men who were to undertake this. He wished to be present, or almost so, when Captain Allen was arrested. He would have taken Jerry with him, but Jerry was suddenly so drunk that he could hardly stand. So, having directed that the negro should not be allowed to go until after all the contemplated arrests had been made, Colonel Leech, with a platoon, took a road that led to the place where, according to Jerry, he should find Captain Allen preparing to attend church.

It was just daybreak when the remainder of the company reached the outskirts of the county seat, and, in accordance with the instructions that had been received, began to post pickets to surround the village. This was done under the immediate supervision of Captain McRaffle. Jerry remained with one of the pickets. The morning air appeared to have revived him astonishingly, and in a little while he had ingratiated himself with the picket by telling a number of funny stories of Leech, who did not appear to be at all popular with the men. He presently insinuated that he knew where the best whiskey in town was to be secured, and offered to go and get some for the picket before the officers took possession. He could slip in and come right out again without anyone knowing it. On this, and with a threat of what would be done to him if he failed to return, he was allowed by the picket to go in. He started off like a deer. It was surprising how straight he could go when he moved rapidly!

As soon as he reached the village he struck straight for the court-green. Jacquelin had spent the night at the court-house with Steve, and was about to start for home in the first light of the morning, and, just as Jerry flung himself over the fence, Jacquelin came down from the rooms that he and Steve occupied. Jerry rushed up to him and began to tell him the story of Leech’s return with the soldiers. He had come to arrest the Captain, Jerry declared.

At first Jacquelin thought that Jerry was merely drunk; but his anxiety on Captain Allen’s account, and the cleverness of his ruse by which he had outwitted Leech, satisfied him; and Jerry’s account of Leech’s eagerness (for he did not stick at telling the most egregious lies as to what Leech had told him) aroused Jacquelin’s anxiety for Steve. Jacquelin, therefore, took instant alarm and sent Jerry to saddle Steve’s horse, while he himself hurried back to Steve’s room and roused him out of bed. At first, Steve was wholly incredulous. Jerry was just drunk, he declared, sleepily. But when Jerry appeared, though certainly he was not sober, he told a story which made Steve grave enough. The whole expedition was, according to his account, to capture Steve. Leech and Captain McRaffle and the captain of the troop had all said so. Steve’s horse was saddled at the door. Steve still demurred. He’d be condemned if he’d run away; he’d stay, and, if what Jerry said was true, would settle with Leech, the whole score then and there. He went back into his room and put his pistol in his pocket. This Jacquelin declared was madness. It would only bring down vengeance on the whole County. What could Steve do against Government troops? Jerry added another argument: “Colonel Leech ain’ gwine to meet him. He done gone off with some other soldiers,” he asserted.

Steve turned to Jacquelin. “How can I leave you, Jack? I’m not a dog.”

“Why, what can they do with me?” laughed Jacquelin. “They are after you about the Ku Klux, and I was not even in the country.” He was still hurrying him.

Thus urged, Steve consented to go, and mounting his horse rode out a back way. To his surprise, he found the lane already picketed. He turned to take another road. As he wheeled into it he saw a squadron of troops at either end riding into the village toward him. He was shut in between them, with a high fence on either side. The only chance of escaping was across the fields. He acted quickly. Breasting his horse at the fence, he cleared it, and, dashing across the court-green, cleared that on the other side, and so made his way out of the village, taking the fences as he came to them.

Ten minutes later Jacquelin was arrested on a warrant sworn out before McRaffle as a commissioner of the court, and so, during the morning, was nearly every other man in the village.

Jacquelin no sooner looked at Leech, than he knew that it was not only Steve that he had come for. As Leech gazed on him his eyes watered, if his mouth did not; and he spoke in a sympathetic whine.

Dr. Cary heard of the raid and of the arrest of his friends that morning as he came home from Miss Bush’s sick bedside, by which he had spent the night. He was tired and fagged; but he said he must go down to the court-house and see about the matter. Mrs. Cary and Blair tried to dissuade him. He needed rest, they urged. And, indeed, he looked it. His face was worn, and his eyes glowed deep under his brows.

“My dear, I must go. I hear they have made a clean sweep, and arrested nearly every man in the place.”

“They may arrest you, if you go.”

“They cannot possibly have anything against me,” he said. “But if they should, it would make no difference. I must go and see about my friends.” The ladies admitted this.

So he rode off. Mrs. Cary and Blair looked wistfully after him as he passed slowly down the road through the apple-trees. He rode more slowly now than he used to do, and not so erect in the saddle.

He was about half-way to the village when he met Andy Stamper riding hard, who stopped to give him the news. They had arrested nearly every man in the village, Andy said, and were now sending out parties to make arrests in the country. General Legaie, and Jacquelin Gray, and Mr. Dockett, and even Mr. Langstaff had been arrested. Leech had come with them, and the prisoners were being taken up to Leech’s house, where they were to be tried before McRaffle, the commissioner. Captain Steve had got away, and had tried to meet Leech; but Leech was too smart for that.

“And they are after you and me too, Doctor,” said Andy. “Where are you going?”

Dr. Cary told him. Andy tried to dissuade him. “What’s the use? You can’t do any good. They’ll just arrest you too. My wife made me come away. I tell you, Doctor, it’s worse than the war,” said Andy. “I never would have surrendered, if I’d thought it ud ’a come to this.” There was a sudden flash of wrath in his blue eyes. “I’ve often been tempted to git even with that Still and that Leech, and I’ve shut my ears and turned away; but if I’d known ’t ’ud come to this, d—d if I wouldn’t have done it!”

Dr. Cary soothed him with his calm assurance, and as the Doctor started to go, Andy turned.

“If you’re goin’, I’m goin’ with you,” he said. “But first I must go by and tell Delia Dove.”

The Doctor tried to assure him that it was not necessary for him to surrender himself; but Andy was firm. “It might have been all right,” he said, if he had not met the Doctor; but Delia Dove would never forgive him if he let the Doctor go into a trouble by himself and he stayed out—’twould be too much like running away.” I tell you, Doctor,” said Andy, “if Delia Dove had been where I was, she’d never ’a surrendered. If there’d been her and a few more like her, there wouldn’t ’a been any surrender.”

The Doctor smiled, and, leaving him to go by and make his peace with Mrs. Stamper, rode slowly on to town.

He found the roads picketed as in time of war; but the pickets let him through. He had scarcely entered the village when he met Leech. He was bustling about with a bundle of books under his thin arm. The Doctor greeted him coldly, and Leech returned the greeting almost warmly. He was really pleased to see the Doctor.

The Doctor expressed his astonishment and indignation at the step that had been taken. Leech was deprecatory.

“I have heard that I am wanted also, Colonel Leech,” said the Doctor, calmly. “I am present to answer any charge that can be brought against me.”

Leech smiled almost sadly. He had no doubt in the world that the Doctor could do so. Really, he himself had very little knowledge of the matter, and none at all as to the Doctor’s case. The Doctor could probably find out by applying to the officer in command. He passed on, leaving the old gentleman in doubt if he could know what was going on. Within ten minutes Dr. Cary was arrested by an officer accompanied by a file of soldiers. When he reached Leech’s house, he found more of his old friends assembled there than he could have found anywhere else in the County that day. It was with mingled feelings that they met each other. In one way they were deeply incensed; in another, it was so grotesque that they were amused as one after another they were brought in, without the slightest idea of the cause of their arrest.

However, it soon ceased to be matter for hilarity. The soldiers who were their guards were simply coldly indifferent, and ordered them about as they would have done any other criminals. But Leech was feline. He oozed with satisfaction and complacency. Andy Stamper was one of the last to appear, and when he was brought in he was a sorry sight. He had not been given the privilege of surrendering himself. As he was taking leave of his wife a posse had appeared, with Perdue the jailer at their head, with a warrant for him. Andy had insisted that he would go and surrender himself, but would not be arrested. A fight had ensued, in which though, as Perdue’s broken head testified, Andy had borne himself valorously. Andy had been overpowered; and he was brought to jail, fastened on his mule, with a trace-chain about his body and a bag over his head. The prisoners were first marched to Leech’s big house, and were called out one by one and taken into a wing room, where they were arraigned before McRaffle, as a commissioner, on the charge of treason and rebellion. The specific act was the attack on the jail that night. The witnesses were the jailer, Perdue; a negro who had been in the jail that night, and Bushman, the man whom Steve Allen had ordered out of the ranks for insubordination and threats against the prisoners. Leech himself was present, and was the inspiration and director of each prosecution. He sat beside the Commissioner and instructed him in every case. Toward Jacquelin he was particularly attentive. He purred around him.

When Dr. Cary’s turn came, neither he nor anyone else had any doubt that he would be at once discharged. He was one of the last to be called. He had taken no part whatever in the attack on the jail; all that he had done had been to try and dissuade from it those who made the assault, and, failing in that, he had waited, in case anyone should be injured, to render what professional aid might be necessary. When he was brought before Leech he was sensible at once of some sort of change in the man. Always somewhat furtive in his manner, the carpet-bagger now had something feline about him. He had evidently prepared to act a part. He was dressed in a long black coat, with a white tie which gave him a quasi-clerical touch, and his expression had taken on a sympathetic regretfulness. A light almost tender, if it had not been so joyous, beamed from his mild blue eyes, and when he spoke his voice had a singular whine of apparent self-abnegation. The Doctor was instantly conscious of the change in him.

“The tiger is loose in this man,” he said to himself. Leech called the Commissioner’s attention to the Doctor’s presence, and greeted him sadly. The Doctor acknowledged the salute gravely, and stated to the Commissioner his views as to the error that had led to his arrest. Before he was through, however, he was addressing Leech. A glint shone in Leech’s eyes for a second.

“Yes, it would seem so,” he said, reflectively, with a slight twang in his voice. “I should think that all that would be necessary would be for you to mention it to the Court.” He looked at the Commissioner as if for corroboration. McRaffle’s sallow face actually flushed; but he kept his eyes on his paper.

“Why, you are the real power,” said the Doctor; “you are the one who has authority.”

Leech smiled almost wanly.

“Oh, no, my dear sir, you do me too much honor. I am but the humble instrument of the law. I bind and loose only as it is given me, my dear sir.” His voice had grown more nasal and his blue eyes beamed. He laid his hand tenderly on the Doctor’s shoulder and smiled half-sadly. The Doctor moved a step farther off, his thin nostrils quivering slightly.

“Very well. I am not afraid. Only don’t my-dear-sir me, if you please. I shall state frankly all I know about the matter, and expect to be discharged now and at once.”

“Yes, that’s right. No doubt of it. I shall be glad to do what I can to further your wishes. I will speak to the Commissioner.” He smiled blandly.

He did so, holding a long whispered conversation with McRaffle, and the Doctor’s case was taken up. The Doctor made his statement, and made it fully and frankly, and it was taken down. When, however, it was finished, he was not discharged. He was asked to give the names of those who were in the crowd that night, and refused. Leech approached, and tenderly and solicitously urged him to do so. “My dear sir, don’t you see how impossible it will be for me to assist you if you persist in what is really a contempt of court?”

“Do you suppose I would tell you to save my life?” said Dr. Cary.

Leech shook his head sadly. He was really grieved.

“Perhaps your Commissioner might supply you names,” snapped General Legaie. McRaffle looked up at him and tried to face his gaze; but it was in vain. His eyes dropped before the General’s withering scorn.

The Doctor was held “on his own confession,” the commissioner said. Old Mr. Langstaff was sent on in the same way; and by nightfall the entire party were in jail, sent on to the next term of the court to be held at the capital.

It was late in the afternoon when the prisoners were conducted to prison. Leech himself headed the procession, walking with impressive solemnity a little in advance of the guard. Quite a large crowd had assembled, mostly negroes; though there were some white men on the edges, looking on with grim faces and glowing eyes, their hats drawn down and their speech low, hardly articulate mutterings. All day long, since the news of the arrival of the soldiery and their work, the negroes had been coming into the village, and they now lined the roadside and packed the court-green near the jail. As the procession made its way they followed it with shouts of derision. “Awe, my Lawd! Ef dee ain gwine put ’em into de jail!” cried out a young slattern, shrilly; at which there was a shout of laughter.

“Amy, come heah, and look at dis one,” shrieked another. “Look at dat ole one. Don’t I hope dee’ll hang de ole deble!”

“Shut your mouth, you black huzzy,” said a tall old negro, sternly, in solemn rebuke. The girl gave a shrill, nervous laugh, and, pulling her friend by the hand, pushed her way nearer the prisoners.

“Dese heah young gals is too free wid dee moufs!” complained another old negro to the taller one. Old Tarquin vouchsafed no answer. His burning eyes were fastened on his master’s tall form as the Doctor marched to the black door before him.

On the edge of the throng, though sufficiently disguised not to be recognized casually, was another form, also with burning eyes, which were, however, fastened not on Dr. Cary, but on Colonel Leech. Steve Allen had come back that day, determined if he met Leech to offer him a pistol and settle the questions between them, on the spot.

As Dr. Cary passed into the jail, he involuntarily stooped. As the heavy door closed behind the prisoners, there was such a wild shout of triumph from the ragged crowd that surged about the space outside that the dull, indifferent soldiers in line before the door looked up and scowled, with side glances and muttered speeches to each other; while on the outskirts the white men gathered together in groups and talked in low tones, their faces dark with impotent rage, but none the less dangerous because they, too, were bound by shackles.

Excitement was hardly the name for the extraordinary sensation the arrests had caused. It was a bolt from a clear sky. By some curious law, whenever a step was taken against the whites the negroes became excited; and the arrest of so many of the leading men of the County had thrown them into a condition of the wildest commotion. They came flocking into the village, forming and marching in a sort of order, with shouts and yells of triumph. They held meetings about the court-green, preached and prayed and sang hymns, shouting derisively about the jail, and yelling insults against the whites. Had anyone seen the throng, he would never have believed that the wild mob that hooted and yelled about the village were the quiet, orderly, and amiable people who but the day before tilled the fields or laughed about their cabins. It needed all the power of the troops stationed at the court-house to restrain them.

It, however, was not only the negroes who were excited. The news had spread rapidly. The whites also were aroused, and men from every direction were riding toward the county seat, their faces stern and grim. By nightfall the village was overflowing, and they were still arriving. As always, their presence awed and quieted the negroes. Many of them stopped outside the town. The presence of regular soldiers meant the presence of a force they were compelled to recognize. The two words heard were “the Government” and “Leech.” Suddenly the two had become one. Leech was the Government, and the Government was Leech: no longer merely the State—the Carpet-bag Government—but the Government. He represented and was represented by the blue-coated, silent, impassive men who were quartered in the court-house and moved indifferently among the citizens—disliked, but careless whether it were so or not. The carpet-bagger had suddenly ceased to be a mere individual—he had become a power. For the first time he was not only hated, but feared. Men who had braved his militia, which had outnumbered them twenty to one, who had outscowled him face to face a hundred times, now glanced at him furtively and sank their voices as he passed. Leech was quick to note the difference, and his heart swelled with pride. He walked backward and forward through the throng many times, his long coat flapping behind him, his mild eyes peering through his spectacles, his wan smile flickering about his mouth, his book, “The Statutes of the United States,” clasped under his arm, his brow bent as if in meditation. He felt that he was feared, and it was unction to his spirit. He had bided his time and had triumphed. Waiting till they least expected it, he had at one blow struck down every enemy. He, Jonadab Leech, had done it; and they were under his feet. They knew it, and they feared him. He meant them to know it and fear him. For this reason he had sat by the Commissioner all day and instructed him; for this reason he had led the march to the jail.

But had he struck all down? No. One had escaped. At the thought, Leech’s smile died away, and a dark, threatening look took its place. His chief enemy, the one he most hated and feared, had escaped. Those he had caught were well enough, but it was Steve Allen whom he was after chiefly—Steve Allen, who had scouted and braved and defied him so often, who had derided him and thwarted him and stung him. He had planned the whole affair mainly for Steve, and now the enemy had slipped through his fingers. It turned all the rest of his success into failure. His triumph changed to dust and ashes on his lips. He was enraged. He would catch him. One moment he denounced his escape as treachery, the next he boasted that he would find him and bring him in alive or dead. A rumor came to him that night that Captain Allen was not far off. Indeed, he was not, but Leech slept at the hotel, guarded by soldiers.

Leech headed, next day, a squad—not a small one—and visited every house in the neighborhood that Steve frequented, searching the houses and proclaiming his determination to have him, alive or dead. He had the pleasure of searching once more the cottage where Miss Thomasia lived. Miss Thomasia received him at the door. She was white with apprehension and indignation. Her apprehension, however, was not for herself, but for Steve, who had only just ridden over the hill, and who had left a message for Leech that he was looking for him, too. Leech assured her sympathetically that she need not be disturbed. He had to do his duty—a painful duty, but it was necessary to execute the law. “‘They who take the sword shall perish by the sword’” he said, with a mournful smile and a shake of the head, and a side look at Miss Thomasia.

“Yes, I have heard that, and I commend it to you, sir,” Miss Thomasia declared, with unexpected spirit. “God is the avenger of the guiltless, and He sometimes employs those who are persecuted as His instruments.”

Leech left there and went to Dr. Cary’s. Here, too, however, he was doomed to disappointment. Mrs. Cary and Miss Blair had gone down to the court-house to look after the Doctor, and the family was represented by Mammy Krenda, whose dark looks and hostile attitude implied too much for Leech to try her. He contented himself with announcing to her that he was hunting for Steve Allen, and had a warrant for his arrest.

“Yes, I heah you’ huntin’ for him,” said the old woman, quietly. “Well, you better mine some day he don’t go huntin’ for you. When he ready, I reckon you’ll fine him.”

“I mean to have him, alive or dead,” said Leech. “It don’t make any difference to me,” he laughed.

“No, I heah say you say dat,” replied the old woman, placidly. “Well,’twould meck right smart difference to him, I spec’; an’ when you push folks dat fur, you’se got to have mighty sho stan’in’ place.”

This piece of philosophy did not strike home to Leech at the time; but a little later it came back to him, and remained with him so much that it worried him. He returned to the court-house without having accomplished his mission. He made up his mind that the old woman knew where Captain Allen had gone; but he had too vivid a recollection of his last contest with her to try her again. On his arrival at the court-house that evening, however, he found that Tarquin was there, having accompanied his mistresses, and he sent a file of soldiers to bring the old man before him. When Tarquin was brought in, he looked so stately and showed so much dignity that Leech for a moment had a feeling that, perhaps, he had made a mistake. McRaffle was present, sitting with that inscrutable look on his dark face. The Commissioner had already gained a reputation for as much severity in his new office as rumor had connected with his name in a less authorized capacity. And Leech had expected the old servant to be frightened. Instead, his head was so erect and his mouth so calm that Leech instinctively thought of Dr. Cary.

However, he began to question the old servant. He stated that he knew where Captain Allen was, and that Tarquin had just as well tell. He did not wish to be severe with him, he said, but it was his duty, as a representative of the Government, to ascertain; and while on one side was the penalty of the law, on the other was a high reward. The old fellow listened so silently that Leech, as he proceeded, began to think he had made an impression, and a gleam of satisfaction lit up his eyes. When he was through, there was an expression very like scorn on old Tarquin’s face.

“I don’t know where he is, Colonel Leech,” he said. “But do you suppose I would tell you if I did? If I betrayed a gentleman, I couldn’ look my master in the face.” Leech was taken aback.

“Here, that’s all nonsense,” he snarled. “I’m the Government, and I’ll make you tell.” But Tarquin was unmoved.

“You can’t terrify me with your threats, Colonel Leech,” he said, calmly. “I served with my master through the war.”

“If you don’t tell, I’ll send you to jail; that’s what I’ll do.”

“You have already sent better gentlemen there,” said the old servant, quietly, and with a dignity that floored the other completely. Leech remembered suddenly Hiram Still’s warning to him long ago, “With these quality niggers, you can’t do nothin’ that way.”

He suddenly tried another course, and began to argue with Tarquin. It was his duty to the Government which had set him free, and would pay handsomely. Tarquin met him again.

“Colonel Leech, my master offered me my freedom before the war, and I wouldn’t take it. You may get some poor creatures to betray with such a bribe, but no gentleman will sell himself.” He bowed. Leech could not help enjoying the scowl that came on McRaffle’s face. But the old man was oblivious of it.

“I have voted with the Government since we were free, because I thought it my duty; but I tell you now, suh, what you are doin’ to-day will hurt you mo’ than ’twill help you. What you sow, you’ve got to reap.”

“Ah, pshaw!” sneered Leech, “I don’t believe you know where Captain Allen is?”

“I told you I did not,” said the old man, with unruffled dignity.

Leech saw that it was useless to try him further in that direction, and, thinking that he might have gone too far, he took out his pocket-book.

“Here; I was just testing you,” he said, with a well-feigned smile. He extracted a dollar note and held it out.

“Nor, suh; I don’t want your money,” said Tarquin, calmly. He bowed coldly, and, turning slowly, walked out.

Leech sat for some time in deep reflection. He was wondering what the secret was that controlled these people without threats or bribery. Here he was, almost on the point of attaining his highest ambition, and he was beginning to find that he was afraid of the instruments he employed. He had never seen a negro insolent to one of the old residents except under the instigation of himself or someone else like him, and yet to him they were so insolent that at times even he could hardly tolerate it. A strange feeling came to him, as if he were in a cage with some wild animal whose keeper he had driven away, and which he had petted and fed until it had gotten beyond him. He could control it only by continually feeding it, and it was steadily demanding more and more. Would the supply from which he had drawn give out? And then what would happen? He was aroused from his thoughts by McRaffle. He gave a short laugh.

“Called your hand, rather, didn’t he?”

Leech tried hard to look composed.

“Why didn’t you turn him over to me? I’d have got it out of him. Trouble about you is, you don’t know the game. You are all right when your hand’s full, but you haven’t got the courage to bet on your hand if it’s weak. You either bluster till a child would know you were bluffing, or else you funk and lay your hand down. I told you you couldn’t do anything with these old fellows that have held on. If they’d been going to come over, they’d have done so long ago. But if you can’t get them, you can others. You leave it to me, and I’ll find out where your friend Allen is.”

“Well, go on and do it, and don’t talk so much about it,” snarled Leech, angrily. “I mean to have him, alive or dead.”

“And I rather think you’d prefer the latter,” sneered McRaffle, darkly.

“No; vengeance belongeth unto God.” His tone was unctuous.

“Look here, Leech,” said the other, with cold contempt, “you make me sick. I’ve done many things, but I’m blanked if I ever quoted Scripture to cover my meanness. You’re thinking of Still; I’m not him. You move heaven and earth to take your vengeance, and then talk about it belonging to God. You think you are a God, but you are a mighty small one. And you can’t fool Steve Allen, I tell you. If you give me a thousand dollars, I’ll get him for you, alive or dead.”

“You said you’d get him for two hundred, and I have offered that reward,” said Leech.

“The price has risen,” said McRaffle, coolly. “You haven’t got him, have you? If Allen runs across you, you’ll wish you had paid me five thousand; and you better look out that he don’t.” He rose and lounged toward the door.

“Well, you get him, and we’ll talk about the price,” said Leech.

“We’ll talk of it before that, Colonel,” said McRaffle, slowly to himself.

Leech had some compensation next day when he superintended the arrangements for the transfer of his prisoners to the city. His office was besieged all day with the friends and relatives of the prisoners, offering bail and begging their release, or, at least, that he would allow them to remain in the County until the time for the term of court to begin. To all he returned the same answer—he was “only a humble minister of the law; the law must take its course.” He found this answer satisfactory. It implied that he could if he would, and at the same time left an impression of the inscrutable character of the punishment to come. He had begun to feel very virtuous. From being a humble instrument of Providence, he had come to feel as if he were a part of Providence itself. The thought made his bosom swell. It was so sweet to find himself in this position, that he determined to lengthen out the pleasure; so, instead of sending all his prisoners down to the city at once, he divided them into two lots and shipped only half of them at first, keeping the others in jail in the County until another day. What his reason was no one knew at the time. It was charged around the County that he wanted to keep Jacquelin Gray until he could secure Steve Allen, so that he might march them down handcuffed together, and that he kept Andy Stamper and some of the others, so that he might hector them personally. However that was, he kept these in jail at Brutusville; and the others were marched down to the station handcuffed, under guard of the soldiers, and with a crowd of yelling, hooting negroes running beside them, screaming and laughing at them, until one of the officers drove them to a respectful distance. They were shipped to the city in a closed box-car, Leech superintending the shipment personally. Just before starting he approached Dr. Cary and General Legaie, and said that in consideration of their age he would have them sent down to the station in his carriage.

“Thank you. We wish no exemptions made in our cases different from those accorded our neighbors,” said Dr. Cary, grimly. The General said nothing; he only looked away.

“Now, my dear sirs, this is not Christian,” urged Leech.” I beg that you will allow me the pleasure——”

The little General turned on him so suddenly and with such a blaze in his eyes, that Leech sprang back, and his sentence was never finished.

“Dog!” was the only word that reached him.

So Dr. Cary and General Legaie went along with the rest, though they were not handcuffed. Old Mr. Langstaff was released on his recognizance, Leech kindly offering the Commissioner to go his bail himself.

On Leech’s return from the railroad that night, he requested the officer in command to go through the jail with him, and gave him, in a high key, especial orders as to guarding it securely.

“It will be guarded securely enough,” said the Captain, gruffly. He was beginning to find Leech intolerable. The last few days’ work had sickened him.

“I’ll soon have another prisoner,” said Leech as he passed the door where Jacquelin was confined.—He raised his voice so that it might be heard by those within the cells.—“And then we shall relieve you.”

“Well, I wish you’d do it quick, for I’m blanked tired of this business, I can tell you!” snapped the Captain.

“Oh, it won’t be long now. A day or two at most. We’ll have Allen, dead or alive. I had information to-day that will secure him. And the court will sit immediately to try them.”

The Captain made no answer, except a grunt. Leech puffed out his bosom.

“A soldier’s duty is to obey orders, Captain,” he said, sententiously.

The Captain turned on him suddenly, his red face redder than ever. “Look here, you bully these men down here who haven’t anybody to speak up for them; but don’t you be trying to teach me my duty, Mister Leech, or I’ll break your crooked neck, you hear?”

He looked so large and threatening that Leech fell back. In order to appease the ruffled officer and satisfy him that he was not a coward, Leech, just as he was leaving, said that he did not care for him to send guards up to his house that night, as he had been doing.

“All right.”

“Of course, I mean until toward bedtime, Captain. I think it still better to keep them there until I leave. I have important documents there. You don’t know these people as I do. I shall go to the city to-morrow or next day. I have business there, and I have the utmost confidence in your ability to manage things. I shall report your zeal to our friends in Washington.”

“All right,” grunted the Captain. And Leech went off.

Leech started toward his house. “I’ll have him recalled and get somebody else in his place,” he muttered.

He stopped, and, going to his office, lit a lamp and wrote a letter to the authorities urging a transfer of the present company, on the ground that the Captain did not appear very well adapted for managing the negroes, and that he feared it was giving encouragement to those they were trying to suppress.

When he had written his letter, he sat back and began to think. He had heard a name that day that had disquieted him. It was the name of the teacher at Mrs. Welch’s school. He had always supposed her name was Miss May, but it seemed that her name was Miss Bush.

One thing that had worried him in the past more than he had ever admitted even to himself had like the others, under the influence of his fortunate star, passed wholly away. He had married early in life. As his ambition rose, his wife had been a clog to him. He had tried to get a divorce; but this she resisted, and he had failed. She had, however, consented to a separation. And he had persuaded her to give up his name and resume her own, Miss Bush. He had not heard anything of her in a long time, and he was quietly moving to get a divorce on the ground of abandonment—of her having abandoned him. When this was done, why should he not marry again? Miss Krafton was a handsome girl. It would make Krafton his friend and ally instead of his enemy, and together they could own the State.

Just then there was a knock at the door. A servant entered. A lady wanted to see him. Who was it? The servant did not know. She wanted to see him at once. Curiosity prevailed. “Show her in,” said Leech. She entered a moment later. Leech turned deadly white. It was Miss Bush. The next moment his fear gave way to rage. He sprang to his feet. “What are you doing here? Where did you come from?” he snarled.

She seated herself on a chair near the door.

“Don’t be angry with me, John,” she said, quietly.

“I am angry. Why shouldn’t I be angry with you? You have lied to me.”

“That I have not.” She spoke firmly.

“You have. What do you call it? Did you not promise never to bother me again?”

“I have not bothered you. I came here to try and protect you.”

“You have. You gave me your word never to come near me again. What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Well, talk quick. I have no time to waste on you. I am busy.”

“I know you are, and I shall not bother you long. I want you to stop prosecuting Dr. Cary and Mr. Gray and Captain Allen.”

“What do you know about them?” asked Leech, in unfeigned astonishment.

“They are friends of friends of mine. Dr. Cary saved my life not long ago.”

“I wish he’d let you— I’ll see you first where I wish they were now—in blank.”

“There is no use in speaking that way, John,” she said, quietly.

“I don’t want you to ‘John’ me,” he snarled. “I tell you I want you to go away.”

“I am going,” she said, sadly. “I will go as soon as I can. I have no money.”

“Where is your money?”

“I lent it to Captain McRaffle to invest.”

“More fool you!”

His manner changed.

“Will you go if I give you the money?”

“Yes”—his face brightened—“as soon as I have finished my year here.”

He broke out on her furiously.

“That’s always the way with you. You are such a liar, there’s no believing you. I wish you were dead.”

“I know you do, John; and I do, too;” she said, wearily. “But the issues of life and death belong to God.”

“Oh, that’s just a part of your hypocrisy. Here, if I give you money, will you go away?”

“Yes, as soon as I can.”

“And will you promise me never to breathe my name to a soul while you are here, or let anyone know that you know me? Will you give me your word on that?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her keenly for a moment.

“Does anyone know that you—that you ever knew me?”

She flushed faintly, with distress.

“Yes, one person—one only.”

Leech sprang to her and seized her roughly.

“And he? Who is he?”

“Dr. Cary. I told him when I thought I was dying. He will not tell.”

He gave a cry of rage.

“He! I’d rather have had anyone else know it.” He flung her from him roughly and stood for a moment lost in thought. His countenance cleared up. If Dr. Cary had promised not to tell, he knew he would not do so, if his life hung on it.

When he spoke it was in a somewhat changed voice.

“Remember, you have sworn that you will never mention it again to a soul, and that you will never come near me again as long as you live!”

“Yes.” She looked at him with pleading eyes, interlacing her fingers. “Oh, John!” she gasped, and then her voice failed her.

For answer, Leech opened the door and glanced out into the empty passage, then seized her by the shoulder and put her outside, and, shutting the door, locked it.

A minute later she slowly and silently went down the dark stairs and out into the night.