itement which had gripped him, too keen to last long, reached its
climax now in one last burst of hysterical speech.

"He's a liar and a thief," he asserted, uncontradicted. He was not to be
contradicted. There was a dignity of its own about the hysterical
indictment, grotesque as it was, an unforgettable suggestion of truth.
"He's a thief and a murderer, too. I don't have to tell what I know.
Everybody knows. You all know, all of you, and you don't dare to tell.
He's murdering the town."

The high, screaming voice broke off abruptly. Mr. Brady, still with the
echo of his big words in his ears and apparently dazed by it, stood
looking blankly into the Judge's steady and friendly eyes.

"I can't--I won't----" he stammered.

"Hand it to me," said the Judge, as if no interruption had occurred. For
a moment the boy before him looked too dull and dazed to obey or to
hear. Then, as suddenly as if some unseen hand had struck it out of his,
the revolver dropped to the ground, and he collapsed, sobbing
heartbrokenly, into the Judge's arms.

He was a heroic figure no longer. The alien forces that made him one
had deserted him abruptly, and he looked unworthy of their support
already, only an inconsiderable creature of jangled nerves and
hysterical speech, which would be discredited if you looked at him, even
if it still echoed in your ears. The Judge, holding him and quieting
him, looked allied with him, humble and discredited, too. The relieved
audience hung back for a moment, taking in the full force of the
picture, before it broke ranks to crowd round the Colonel and offer him
belated support. The Colonel said a few inaudible words to Judge Saxon,
and then turned from him and his protege with the air of washing his
hands of the whole affair. He looked surprisingly unruffled by it, even
stimulated by it. The interruption to his party was over.

* * * * *

It ended as it had begun, the most successful party of the year. Mr.
Brady's invasion was not the first unscheduled event which had enlivened
a party at the Birches. There was more open and general speculation
about the fact that the Randalls left immediately after, did not linger
over their good-nights, and were obviously not permitted by their host
to do so.

Mrs. Randall, leaning back in her corner with her hand tight in Harry's,
and her long-lashed eyes, that were like Judith's, tightly shut, showed
the full strain of the evening in