rcumstance beat
upon the house of faith, which he had builded slowly through other years
in the Valley, and it stood unshaken.

CHAPTER XLIX

HOW MORTY SANDS TURNED AWAY SADLY AND JUDGE VAN DORN UNCOVERED A SECRET

Grant Adams sat in his cell, with the jail smell of stone and iron and
damp in his nostrils. As he read the copy of Tolstoy's "The
Resurrection," which his cell-mate had left in his hurried departure the
night before, Grant moved unconsciously to get into the thin direct rays
of the only sunlight--the early morning sunlight, that fell into his
cage during the long summer day. The morning _Times_ lay on the
floor where Grant had dropped it after reading the account of what had
happened to his cell-mate when the police had turned him over to the Law
and Order League, at midnight. To be sure, the account made a great hero
of John Kollander and praised the patriotism of the mob that had
tortured the poor fellow. But the fact of his torture, the fact that he
had been tarred and feathered, and turned out naked on the golf links of
the country club, was heralded by the _Times_ as a warning to
others who came to Harvey to preach Socialism, and flaunt the red flag.
Grant felt that the jailer's kindness in giving him the morning paper so
early in the day, was probably inspired by a desire to frighten him
rather than to inform him of the night's events.

Gradually he felt the last warmth of the morning sun creep away and he
heard a new step beside the jailer's velvet footfall in the corridor,
and heard the jailer fumbling with his keys and heard him say: "That's
the Adams cell there in the corner," and an instant later Morty Sands
stood at the door, and the jailer let him in as Grant said:

"Well, Morty--come right in and make yourself at home."

He was not the dashing young blade who for thirty years had been the
Beau Brummel of George Brotherton's establishment; but a rather weazened
little man whose mind illumined a face that still clung to sportive
youth, while premature age was claiming his body.

He cleared his throat as he sat on the bunk, and after dropping Grant's
hand and glancing at the book title, said: "Great, isn't it? Where'd you
get it?"

"The brother they ran out last night. They came after him so suddenly
that he didn't have time to pack," answered Grant.

"Well, he didn't need it, Grant," replied Morty. "I just left him. I got
him last night after the mob finished with him, and took