a man who had retraced a broad step in the downward path by
voluntarily accepting the penalty. Those who objected to the editorial
were of the perverse minority. The intimation was made that the plea had
been inspired--a hint basing itself upon the fact that Miss Grierson had
been seen visiting the office of the _Wahaskan_ after the departure of
the detective, Matthew Broffin, with his prisoner.

The sensational incident, however, had been forgotten long before a
certain evening, three weeks later, when the Grierson carriage conveyed
the convalescent president of the Bayou State Security from the Grierson
mansion to the southbound train. Andrew Galbraith was not alone in the
carriage, and possibly there were those in the sleeping-car who mistook
the dark-eyed and strikingly beautiful young woman, who took leave of
him only after he was comfortably settled in his section, for his
daughter. But the whispered words of leave-taking were rather those of a
confidante than a kinswoman.

"I'll arrange the Raymer matter as you suggest," she said, "and if I had
even a speaking acquaintance with God, I'd pray for you the longest day
I live, Uncle Andrew. And about the trial: I'm going to leave it all
with you; I've g-got to leave it with you! Just remember that I shall
bleed little drops of blood for every day the judge gives him, and that
the only way he can be helped is by a short sentence. He wouldn't take a
pardon: he--he wants to pay, you know. Good-night, and good-by!" And she
put her strong young arms around Andrew Galbraith's neck and kissed him,
thereby convincing the family party in Lower Seven that she was not only
the old man's daughter, but a very affectionate one, at that.

* * * * *

The little-changing seasons of central Louisiana had measured two
complete rounds on the yearly dial of Time's unremitting and unhasting
clock when the best hired carriage that Baton Rouge could afford drew
up before the entrance to the State's Prison and waited. Precisely on
the stroke of twelve, a man for whom the prison rules had lately been
relaxed sufficiently to allow his hair to grow, came out, looked about
him as one dazed, and assaulted the closed door of the carriage as if he
meant to tear it from its hinges.

"Oh, boy, boy!" came from the one who had waited; and then the carriage
door yielded, opened, closed with a crash, and the negro driver clucked
to his horses.

They were half-way to