at has been raised for me in all this town--in
all my life!"

She held before him again the tight-folded little bill, seeking with
trembling fingers to unfold it so that he might see its pitifully small
denomination. She shook it in his face in sudden rage. "That's my life
savings! If there was such a thing as justice in the world, would I be
helpless as this--so helpless that I could find it possible to come here
to talk to you? Justice? Justice! Ah, my God in heaven!"

Aurora Lane's voice was slightly rising. She was fronting him in the
last courage of despair. "You'd see that boy perish--you'd let him die?
If I thought that was true, I'd be willing to do everything I could to
ruin this town. I'd pull the roof down on it if I were strong enough.
I'd throw myself away, indeed. I'd curse God--I'd die. Above all, I'd
curse you, with my last breath."

Anne, in the next room, rooted in the horror of her silence, could not
have heard his reply, but almost she might have pictured him, standing
white, ghastly, trembling, as he was when he heard these words.

"But you can't do it--you can't deny him--he's a human being like
yourself--he's part of----Ah, you'll get him free, I know!" Aurora's
voice was pleading now. Judge Henderson's own voice was hoarse,
unnatural, when at last he got it.

"Look at this message," he croaked, in a half whisper; and showed her
the crumpled bit of paper which he had held in his own hand. He beckoned
to her--yet again--for silence, but she did not understand.

"What is it?" asked Aurora. "What do you mean?"

"From the state's attorney! I have accepted this retainer. I'm of the
prosecution! You have come too late. What can I do?"

"Prosecution--what do you mean? Prosecute him--_Don_? Too late--my God!
Am I always too late--is it always in all the world for me--too late!
Prosecute _him_? What do you _mean_?"

The sudden, wailing cry broke from her. Then her voice trailed off into
a whisper--a whisper which might have been heard very far--which was
heard through the half-closed door which led to the inner room. "Too
late!" And at length the long-tried soul of Aurora Lane broke out in a
final and uncontrolled rebellion, all bounds down, all restraint
forgotten, every instinct at last released of its long fettering:

"You disown him--you'd disown your own flesh and blood--you'd let him
die! Why, you'd betray your own Master for the price of office and of
honor! Oh, I know, I know! The limeli