hem were neighbors, nearly every man knew who was his neighbor
here, even in the darkness. Not one of these could precisely have told
why he was here. By some process of self-persuasion, some working of
hysteria, some general acceptance of the auto-suggestion of the mob,
most had persuaded themselves that they were there to "do their duty."
It sounded well. If, indeed, they had been brought hither merely by the
excitement of it, merely under the hypnosis of it, they forgot that, or
tried to forget it, and said they were there to do their duty--their
duty to their God-fearing town.... But in the mind of each was a picture
out of the past of which we may not inquire. That night far worse than
murder might have been done.

"We want him, Dan. Bring him out!" The voice of the leader sounded dry
and hoarse, but he did not waver, for he saw the sheriff make no move of
resistance.

"You can't get him," said Dan Cowles. "You couldn't even if he was here.
But he ain't here."

"What do you mean, he ain't here? We know he is!"

"Come in and see," said Cowles, stepping back. "I just been to his cell
and he ain't there. Come in and search the whole jail."

They did come in and search the jail, piling into the corridors, opening
every door, looking into every room even of the sheriff's living
quarters, but the jail was empty! There was no prisoner there at all.

"We want Don Lane, that killed the city marshal," repeated the husky
voice of the leader once more. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," said Sheriff Cowles. "If I did, I wouldn't tell you."
And indeed he spoke only truth in both these statements.

"I know!" screamed a high voice in the middle of the man pack. "He's
maybe up at her house--'Rory Lane's. Let's go search the place--we'll
get him yet!"

It was enough. The mob, thus resisted, disappointed, began to mutter, to
talk now, in a low, hoarse half roar of united voices. They turned away
on a new trail. Some broke into shouts as they began to hurry down the
brick walk of the jail yard. They jostled and crowded in the street, as
they came into the corner of the public square. A general outcry arose
as they caught sight of the light in the window of Aurora Lane's little
home, a half block down the street, beyond the corner of the square.

Aurora heard the sound of their feet coming down the sidewalk. She heard
the noise at her gate--heard the crash as the gate was kicked off its
new-mended hinges--heard the men crowd u