same. The
Fads are doomed to death, they may be reprieved, but they must die at
last."

He drew a deep sigh, and looked along the dreary Road. It was quite dark
now, but by the light of the lamps and the gas in the shop windows the
dull, monotonous Road lay revealed in all its sordid, familiar outlines;
with its long stretches of chill pavement, its unlovely architecture,
and its endless stream of prosaic pedestrians.

A sudden consciousness of the futility of his existence pierced the
little cobbler like an icy wind. He saw his own life, and a hundred
million lives like his, swelling and breaking like bubbles on a dark
ocean, unheeded, uncared for.

A newsboy passed along, clamoring "The Bow murderer, preparations for
the hexecution!"

A terrible shudder shook the cobbler's frame. His eyes ranged
sightlessly after the boy; the merciful tears filled them at last.

"The Cause of the People," he murmured, brokenly, "I believe in the
Cause of the People. There is nothing else."

"Peter, come in to tea, you'll catch cold," said Mrs. Crowl.

Denzil went in to tea and Peter followed.

* * * * *

Meantime, round the house of the Home Secretary, who was in town, an
ever-augmenting crowd was gathered, eager to catch the first whisper of
a reprieve.

The house was guarded by a cordon of police, for there was no
inconsiderable danger of a popular riot. At times a section of the crowd
groaned and hooted. Once a volley of stones was discharged at the
windows. The news-boys were busy vending their special editions, and the
reporters struggled through the crowd, clutching descriptive pencils,
and ready to rush off to telegraph offices should anything "extra
special" occur. Telegraph boys were coming up every now and again with
threats, messages, petitions and exhortations from all parts of the
country to the unfortunate Home Secretary, who was striving to keep his
aching head cool as he went through the voluminous evidence for the last
time and pondered over the more important letters which "The Greater
Jury" had contributed to the obscuration of the problem. Grodman's
letter in that morning's paper shook him most; under his scientific
analysis the circumstantial chain seemed forged of painted cardboard.
Then the poor man read the judge's summing up, and the chain became
tempered steel. The noise of the crowd outside broke upon his ear in his
study like the roar of a distant ocean. The more