"God bless you, Cloudy! I myself wished to accompany him, but he would
not for a moment hear of my doing so--he entreated me to return hither
to take care of poor Fanny and the homestead."

Cloudy scarcely waited to hear this benediction, but hurried to the
stables, found and saddled his horse, threw himself into the stirrups,
and in five minutes was dashing rapidly through the thick, low-lying
forest stretching inland from the coast.

Eight hours of hard riding brought him to the county seat.

Just stopping long enough to have his horse put up at the best hotel and
to inquire his way to the prison, he hurried thither.

It was nearly nine o'clock, and the street corners were thronged with
loungers conversing in low, eager tones upon the present all-absorbing
topic of discourse--the astounding event of the arrest of the great
preacher, the Rev. Thurston Willcoxen, upon the charge of murder.

Hurrying past all these, Cloudy reached the jail. He readily gained
admittance, and was conducted to the cell of the prisoner. He found
Thurston attired as when he left home, sitting at a small wooden stand,
and calmly occupied with his pen.

He arose, and smilingly extended his hand, saying:

"This is very kind as well as very prompt, Cloudy. You must have ridden
fast."

"I did. Leave us alone, if you please, my friend," said Cloudy, turning
to the jailor.

The latter went out and locked the door upon the friends.

"This seems a sad event to greet you on your return home. Cloudy; but
never mind, it will all be well!"

"Sad? It's a farce! I have not an instant's misgiving about the result;
but the present indignity! Oh! oh! I could--"

"Be calm, my dear Cloudy. Have you heard anything of the circumstances
that led to this?"

"Yes! Paul told me; but he is as crazy and incoherent as a Bedlamite! I
want you, if you please, Thurston, if you have no objection, to go over
the whole story for me, that I may see if I can make anything of it for
your defense."

"Poor Paul! he takes this matter far too deeply to heart. Sit down. I
have not a second chair to offer, but take this or the foot of the cot,
as you prefer."

Cloudy took the foot of the cot.

"Certainly, Cloudy, I will tell you everything," said Thurston, and
forthwith commenced his explanation.

Thurston's narrative was clear and to the point. When it was finished
Cloudy asked a number of questions, chiefly referring to the day of the
tragedy. When these were a