Joe looked back, the events of the past few
minutes and the shock of the tragedy, which had fallen as swift as a
lightning stroke, stunning him out of his usual cool reasoning.

There lay the house, its roof white in the moonlight, a little stream of
yellow coming through the kitchen window, striking the lilac-bushes and
falling brokenly on the grass beyond. There was reality in that; but in
this whirl of events which crowded his mind there was no tangible thing
to lay hold upon.

That Isom was dead on the kitchen floor seemed impossible and unreal,
like an event in a dream which one struggles against the terror of,
consoling himself, yet not convincingly, as he fights its sad illusions,
with the argument that it is nothing but a vision, and that with waking
it will pass away.

What was this awful thing with which Sol Greening had charged him, over
which the whole neighborhood soon must talk and conjecture?

Murder!

There was no kinder word. Yet the full terror of its meaning was not
over him, for his senses still swirled and felt numb in the suddenness
of the blow. He had not meant that this accusation should fasten upon
him when he sent Ollie from the room; he had not thought that far ahead.
His one concern was that she should not be found there, dressed and
ready to go, and the story of her weakness and folly given heartlessly
to the world.

And Curtis Morgan--where was he, the man to blame for all this thing?
Not far away, thought Joe, driving that white road in security, perhaps,
even that very hour, while he, who had stood between him and his unholy
desires, was being led away by Sol Greening like a calf in a rope. They
were going to charge him with the murder of Isom Chase and take him away
to jail.

How far would Morgan permit them to go? Would he come forward to bear
his share of it, or would he skulk away like a coward and leave him, the
bondman, to defend the name of his dead master's wife at the cost of his
own honor and liberty, perhaps his life?

All that had gone before Isom threw his life away in that moment of
blind anger, must be laid bare if he was to free himself of the shadow
of suspicion. It was not the part of an honorable man to seek his own
comfort and safety at the cost of a woman's name, no matter how unworthy
he knew her to be, while that name and fame still stood flawless before
the world. In the absence of some other avenue to vindication, a
gentleman must suffer in silence, even