or converse with relatives and
friends through the barred and screened opening.

A man was exchanging tearful confidences with his wife and baby as he
clung to the bars. The woman was sending a brave smile across, but the
wire mesh between gave her face the same unreality that a gauze drop
in a play gives to the figures on the other side. A strange man was
ushered in.

"Mr. Starratt?" he inquired.

Fred inclined his head.

"My name is Watson--from the firm of Kimball & Devine. We're attorneys
for Mr. Hilmer. He asked me to run in and see you this morning. Just
what _did_ happen?"

Fred recited the events briefly. When he had finished, the attorney
said:

"Everything depends on this man Brauer. I'll have to get in touch with
him to-day. Hilmer told me to use my own judgment about bail... I
guess it's all right."

A hot flush overspread Fred's face, but it died quickly. He could
stand any insult now. All night he had been brooding on that slap upon
the cheek. A clenched fist had an element of fairness in it, but the
bare palm was always the mark of a petty tyrant. It was thus that a
woman struck ... or a piddling official ... or a mob bent on
humiliation. They smote Christ in the same way--_with their hands_. He
remembered the phrase perfectly and the circumstance that had
impressed it so indelibly on his mind. His people had seen to it that
he had attended Sabbath school, but he was well past ten before they
had taken him to church. And, out of the hazy impression of the first
sermon he had fidgeted through, he remembered the picture of Christ
which the good man in the pulpit had drawn, sitting in a mockery of
purple, receiving the open-palmed blows of cowards. In his extremity
the story recurred with sharp insistence and all night he had been
haunted by this thorn-crowned remembrance.

Hilmer's messenger was waiting for him to speak. He gave a shrug.

"It really doesn't matter," he said.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Starratt," Watson broke in, reprovingly. "That
isn't any way to talk. You've got to keep your spirits up. Things
might be worse. It's lucky you've got a friend like Hilmer. He's a man
that can do things for you, if anyone can."

Fred smiled wanly. "I don't suppose you saw my wife, by any chance,"
he ventured.

"No... Fact is, she's in bed... Hilmer said the news completely bowled
her over... That's another reason you've got to buck up--for _her_
sake, you know!"

It ended in Watson putting up the b