, into the
hall and listened.

Chadron questioned the soldier, in surprise. Frances heard the man's
explanation of his presence before the door given in low voice, and in
it the mention of Macdonald's name. Chadron stalked away, anger in the
sound of his step. His loud voice now sounded in the room where the
others were still chattering in the relief of speech after long
silence. Now he came back to the guarded door, Nola with him; Mrs.
Chadron following with pleading words and moanings.

"Dead or alive, I don't care a damn! Out of this house he goes this
minute!" Chadron said.

"Oh, father, surely you wouldn't throw a man at death's door out in
the night!"

It was Nola, lifting a trembling voice, and Frances could imagine her
clinging to his arm.

"Not after what he's done for us, Saul--not after what he's done!"
Mrs. Chadron sounded almost tearful in her pleading. "Why, he brought
Nola home--didn't you know that, Saul? He brought her home all safe
and sound!"

"Yes, he stole her to make that play!" Chadron said, either still
deceived, or still stubborn, but in any case full of bitterness.

"I'll never believe that, father!" Nola spoke braver than Frances had
expected of her. "But friend or enemy, common charity, common decency,
would--"

"Common hell! Git away from in front of that door! I'm goin' to throw
his damned carcass out of this house--I can't breathe with that man in
it!"

"Oh, Saul, Saul! don't throw the poor boy out!" Mrs. Chadron begged.

"Will I have to jerk you away from that door by the hair of the head?
Let me by, I tell you!"

Frances ran down stairs blindly, feeling that the moment for her
interference, weak as it might be, and ineffectual, had come. Now
Major King was speaking, his voice sounding as if he had placed
himself between Chadron and the door.

"I think you'd better listen to your wife and daughter, Chadron. The
fellow can't harm anybody--let him alone."

"No matter for the past, he's our guest, father, he's--"

"Hell! Haven't they told you fool women the straight of it yet? I tell
you I had to shoot him to save my own life--he was pullin' a gun on
me, but I beat him to it!"

"Oh Saul, my Saul!" Mrs. Chadron moaned.

"Was it you that--oh, was it you!" There was accusation, disillusionment,
sorrow--and more than words can define--in Nola's voice. Frances waited
to hear no more. In a moment she was standing in the open door beside
Nola, who blocked it against her fathe