the Herbert girl!" he said with an evil ghastly
smile. "Do you want to save him for her?"

"You don't need to tell all, Marsh--" she said eagerly.

"That's you!" and he laughed under his breath. "I can't imagine you
advocating anything absolutely right! If I tell, I'll make a clean
breast of it; if I don't I'll lie with my last breath!"

He was thinking of Joe Montgomery now, as he had thought of him many
times since he drew himself up out of that merciless yellow flood into
which the handy-man had flung him. Evelyn looked at him wonderingly. His
virtues, as well as his vices, were things beyond her comprehension.

The door opened, and Moxlow came into the room. At sight of him,
Langham's dull eyes grew brilliant.

"I thought you would never get here!" he said.

"This _is_ too bad, Marsh!" said his law partner sympathizingly, as
Evelyn yielded him her place and withdrew to the window again.

"Where's Taylor?" asked Langham abruptly.

"He's had to go to the jail, he was leaving the house as I got here,"
replied Moxlow.

There was the noise of voices in the hail, one of which was the
colonel's, evidently raised in protest, then a clumsy hand was heard
fumbling with the knob and the door was thrown open, and Joe Montgomery
slouched into the room.

"Boss, you got to see me now!" he cried.

The prosecuting attorney sprang to his feet with an angry exclamation.

"Let him alone--" said Langham weakly.

Montgomery stole to the foot of the bed and stared down on Langham.

"You tell him, boss," nodding his head toward Moxlow. "I put it up to
you!" he said.

Langham's glance dwelt for an instant on the handy-man, then it shifted
back to Moxlow.

"Stop the execution!" he said, and Moxlow thought his mind wandered.
"North didn't kill McBride," Langham went on. "Do you understand me--he
is not the guilty man!"

A gray pallor was overspreading his face. It was called there by another
presence in that room; an invisible but most potent presence.

"Do you understand me?" he repeated, for he saw that his words had made
no impression on Moxlow.

"Go on, boss!" cried Montgomery, in a fever of impatience.

"Do you understand what I am telling you? John North did not kill
McBride!" Langham spoke with painful effort. "Joe knows who did--so do
I--so did my father--he knew an innocent man had been convicted!"

At mention of the judge, Moxlow started. He bent above Langham.

"Marsh, if John North didn't kill McBride, w