had for some reason or
other refused to let Tiara know her destination.

Tiara missed Eunice, but there was a countervailing joy in her soul.
Eunice gone, her period of exile was over, and Ensal--O, well, well; he
could call to see her sometimes. That was as much as she would admit to
herself, but there was an enlivening sparkle to those beautiful dark
eyes whenever that individual came before her mind. She was intending
that night to write him a note suggesting that he ought to call and
receive an account of her stewardship in the matter of preserving
Earl's life. That was a non-committal piece of territory on which a
renewal of friendly relations might begin, she felt. The newsboy came
riding along and tossed the afternoon paper upon her porch. She picked
up the paper, opened it and glanced at the various headings. In an
instant her interest in the paper was more than perfunctory.

She saw an account of the murder of Rev. Percy G. Marshall, and of the
besieging of the supposed murderer that was still in progress when the
paper went to press.

At that moment a white man was passing in a buggy. Tiara hailed him,
grasped a hat and was soon in the buggy by his side begging him to speed
her to the city, which the wondering man kindly did.

Directed by Tiara, the man drove to the edge of the crowd of besiegers.
By brave struggling, her hat gone, her long hair down her back, her
dress torn, she made her way to the front of the swaying, surging mass
of frenzied humanity.

"Gentlemen," said she, "Let us stop this frightful slaughter. Suspend
hostilities! Give me a chance and I will bring things out all right. All
I ask is that you respect my prisoner."

Tiara's sweet, strong voice carried conviction and the crowd in silence
awaited her action. Snatching a walking stick from a bystander and
tearing a sleeve from her dress she made a flag of truce and mounted the
steps of the gate.

[Illustration: "Snatching a walking stick from a bystander and tearing a
sleeve from her dress, she made a flag of truce and mounted
the steps of the gate."
(188-189.)]

Through his trumpet Martin shouted, "Flag uv truce held by the lady
won't be shot at, purvided no one else comes with her."

The crowd now awaited with feverish anxiety the outcome of this new turn
of affairs. Tragic as were the surroundings, the great throng found time
to admire the great beauty, the magn