nizingly lenient that night; that is, after that first
rebuke which was to leave him the undisputed master of the situation.

To reach the really great heights of which the evening's triumph was
capable the old mail carrier's collaboration had been almost
indispensable. They had been waiting with hungry impatience for him.
And then Old Jerry had appeared--he made his entrance and his
exit--and departing had left them gasping for breath.

Old Jerry had not waited to view the effect of his mad defiance of the
town's great man. It is doubtful if he had given that side of the
issue one passing thought, but his triumphant withdrawal from the
field had robbed the situation of not one bit of its decisiveness.
Quiet followed his going, a stillness so profound that they heard him
cackling to himself in insane glee as he went down the steps. And that
hush had endured while they waited in a delicious state of tingling
suspense for the first furious sentences which should preface his
lifelong banishment from the circle itself.

For years they had whispered, "Just wait, he'll come to it--he'll go
just like the rest." And so Young Denny's final weakening had not been
so unexpected as it might have been. And more than once, too, when the
Judge's harsh censure of him who had always been his stanchest
supporter had left Old Jerry cringing in his place beside the stove,
they had all felt the justice if not a premonition of final
retribution to come. It was the debonaire dare-deviltry of Old Jerry's
defiance rather than its unexpectedness which had proved its greatest
sensation. That day's one supreme moment--the only one which had not
suffered from too acute anticipation--came while they waited for the
Judge's denial, that denial which was never spoken.

The town's great man had slumped back in his chair in a kind of
stunned trance while the apoplectic purple of his earlier wrath faded
from his face. He did open his mouth, but not in any effort to speak.
It was only to lick his thick lips and gurgle noisily in his fat
throat. He tried to rise, too, and failed in his first attempt--and
tried again.

They had all realized what it was that made his knees wabble as he
crossed to the door; they understood what had drained his face of all
its color. Every man of them knew why the latch rattled under his
shaking figure. The Judge had been afraid, not merely morally
frightened, but abjectly, utterly terrified in the flesh--afraid of
the th