lessened by what he saw and heard on
the way to the jail. The anger of the people was at a white heat. A
white woman had been assaulted and murdered by a brutal negro. Neither
advanced age, nor high social standing, had been able to protect her
from the ferocity of a black savage. Her sex, which should have been her
shield and buckler, had made her an easy mark for the villainy of a
black brute. To take the time to try him would be a criminal waste of
public money. To hang him would be too slight a punishment for so
dastardly a crime. An example must be made.

Already the preparations were under way for the impending execution. A
T-rail from the railroad yard had been procured, and men were burying it
in the square before the jail. Others were bringing chains, and a load
of pine wood was piled in convenient proximity. Some enterprising
individual had begun the erection of seats from which, for a pecuniary
consideration, the spectacle might be the more easily and comfortably
viewed.

Ellis was stopped once or twice by persons of his acquaintance. From one
he learned that the railroads would run excursions from the neighboring
towns in order to bring spectators to the scene; from another that the
burning was to take place early in the evening, so that the children
might not be kept up beyond their usual bedtime. In one group that he
passed he heard several young men discussing the question of which
portions of the negro's body they would prefer for souvenirs. Ellis
shuddered and hastened forward. Whatever was to be done must be done
quickly, or it would be too late. He saw that already it would require a
strong case in favor of the accused to overcome the popular verdict.

Going up the steps of the jail, he met Mr. Delamere, who was just coming
out, after a fruitless interview with Sandy.

"Mr. Ellis," said the old gentleman, who seemed greatly agitated, "this
is monstrous!"

"It is indeed, sir!" returned the younger man. "I mean to stop it if I
can. The negro did not kill Mrs. Ochiltree."

Mr. Delamere looked at Ellis keenly, and, as Ellis recalled afterwards,
there was death in his eyes. Unable to draw a syllable from Sandy, he
had found his servant's silence more eloquent than words. Ellis felt a
presentiment that this affair, however it might terminate, would be
fatal to this fine old man, whom the city could ill spare, in spite of
his age and infirmities.

"Mr. Ellis," asked Mr. Delamere, in a voice which tr