r from his pocket. "Did you
have that this afternoon?"

"Yes," said Carter, a troubled look coming into his eyes. "Where did
you get it, Kilday?"

"It was found outside Judge Hollis's window after he had been shot."

"Judge Hollis shot! Who did it?"

Sandy again looked at the pistol.

"My God, man!" cried Carter; "you don't mean that I--" He cowered back
against the tree and shook from head to foot. "Kilday!" he cried
presently, seizing Sandy by the wrist with his long, delicate hands,
"does any one else know?"

Sandy shook his head.

"Then I must get away; you must help me. I didn't know what I was
doing. I don't know now what I have done. Is he--"

"He's not dead yet."

Carter struggled to his feet, but a terrible attack of coughing seized
him, and he sank back exhausted. The handkerchief which he held to his
mouth was red with blood.

Sandy stretched him out on the snow, where he lay for a while with
closed eyes. He was very white, and his lips twitched convulsively.

A vehicle passed out the road, and Sandy started up. He must take some
decisive step at once. The men were probably waiting in the square for
him now. He must stop them at any cost.

Carter opened his eyes, and the terror returned to them.

"Don't give me up, Kilday!" he cried, trying to rise. "I'll pay you
anything you ask. It was the drink. I didn't know what I was doing.
For the Lord's sake, don't give me up! I haven't long to live at
best. I can't disgrace the family. I--I am the last of the line--last
Nelson--" His voice was high and uncontrolled, and his eyes were
glassy and fixed.

Sandy stood before him in an agony of indecision. He had fought it out
with himself there in his bedroom, and all personal considerations
were swept from his mind. All he wanted now was to do right. But what
was right? He groped blindly about in the darkness of his soul, and no
guiding light showed him the way.

With a groan, he knotted his fingers together and prayed the first
real prayer his heart had ever uttered. It was wordless and formless,
just an inarticulate cry for help in the hour of need.

The answer came when he looked again at Carter. Something in the
frenzied face brought a sudden recollection to his mind.

"We can't judge him by usual standards; he's bearing the sins of his
fathers. We have to look on men like that as we do on the insane."
They were the judge's own words.

Sandy jumped to his feet, and, helping and half supportin