e testified with the listlessness of many repetitions to
the sordid facts of San Francisco's betrayal by venal public servants.
It was all more or less perfunctory. Everyone had heard the tale from
one to half a dozen times.

Heney was at the attorneys' table talking animatedly with an assistant.
The jury had left the room and Gallagher stepped down from the stand to
have a word with the prosecutor. A few feet away was Heney's bodyguard
lolling, plainly bored by the testimony. There was the usual buzz of
talk which marks a lull in court proceedings.

Into this scene came with covert tread a wild, dramatic figure. No one
noted his approach. Morris Haas, glittering of eye, dishevelled, mad
with loss of sleep and brooding, had crept into the court-room unheeded.
He approached the attorneys' table stealthily.

All at once Frank saw him standing within a foot of Heney. Something
glittered in his outstretched hand. Frank shouted, but his warning lost
itself in a wild cry of revengeful accusation. There was a sharp report;
smoke rose. An acrid smell of exploded powder hung upon the air. Heney,
with a cry, fell backward. Blood spurted from his neck.

* * * * *

Once more the city was afire with men's passions. Haas was rushed to the
county jail and Heney to a hospital, where it was found, amid great
popular rejoicing, that the wound was not a fatal one. Had it been
otherwise no human power could have protected Haas from lynching.

A great mass meeting was held. Langdon, Phelan, Mayor Taylor pleaded for
order. "Let us see to it," said the last, "that no matter who else
breaks the law, we shall uphold it." This became the keynote of the
meeting. Rudolph Spreckels, who arrived late, was greeted with
tumultuous cheering.

Frank and Aleta were impressed by the spontaneity of the huge popular
turnout. "It means," said the girl, as they made their exit, "that San
Francisco is again aroused to its danger. What a great, good natured,
easy-going body of men and women this town is! We feed on novelty and
are easily wearied. That's why so many have back-slid who were strong
for the Prosecution at first."

"Yes, you're right," answered Frank. "We alternate between spasms of
Virtue and comfortable inertias of Don't-care-a-Damn! That's San
Francisco!"

"The Good Gray City," he added after a little silence. "We love it in
spite of its faults and upheavals, don't we, Aleta?"

"Perhaps because of them."