ent's head.

"Kiss me, Gregory," she said, her hand on his arm.

He started at the touch, and saw all eager eyes centred upon him, and
the yellow noose, just shaped, in the hands of the hangman. He threw
up his arms, as though to ward it off, and cried loudly, "No! no! Let
me confess! Let me tell the truth, then you'll believe me!"

Bill Brown and the chairman shoved Blackey back, and the crowd gathered
in. Cries and protestations rose from its midst. "No, you don't," a
boy's shrill voice made itself heard. "I'm not going to go. I climbed
the tree and made the rope fast, and I've got a right to stay."
"You're only a kid," replied a man's voice, "and it ain't good for
you." "I don't care, and I'm not a kid. I'm--I'm used to such things.
And, anyway, I climbed the tree. Look at my hands." "Of course he can
stay," other voices took up the trouble. "Leave him alone, Curley."
"You ain't the whole thing." A laugh greeted this, and things quieted
down.

"Silence!" the chairman called, and then to St. Vincent, "Go ahead,
you, and don't take all day about it."

"Give us a chance to hear!" the crowd broke out again. "Put 'm on the
box! Put 'm on the box!"

St. Vincent was helped up, and began with eager volubility.

"I didn't do it, but I saw it done. There weren't two men--only one.
He did it, and Bella helped him."

A wave of laughter drowned him out.

"Not so fast," Bill Brown cautioned him. "Kindly explain how Bella
helped this man kill herself. Begin at the beginning."

"That night, before he turned in, Borg set his burglar alarm--"

"Burglar alarm?"

"That's what I called it,--a tin bread-pan attached to the latch so the
door couldn't open without tumbling it down. He set it every night, as
though he were afraid of what might happen,--the very thing which did
happen, for that matter. On the night of the murder I awoke with the
feeling that some one was moving around. The slush-lamp was burning
low, and I saw Bella at the door. Borg was snoring; I could hear him
plainly. Bella was taking down the bread-pan, and she exercised great
care about it. Then she opened the door, and an Indian came in softly.
He had no mask, and I should know him if ever I see him again, for a
scar ran along the forehead and down over one eye."

"I suppose you sprang out of bed and gave the alarm?"

"No, I didn't," St. Vincent answered, with a defiant toss of the head,
as though he might as well get the worst