in
self-respect never helps any one. But to get rid of the damned stuff
will revive you; will give you a new interest in life--will change your
whole physical body, and then--if you live one hour in the big
soul-bursting joy of service you will live forever. But if you die--die
as you are, Morty--you'll die forever. Come." Grant reached out his arms
to Morty and fixed his luminous eyes upon his friend, "Come, come with
me," he pleaded. "That will cure your soul--and it doesn't matter about
your body."

Morty's face lighted, and he smiled sympathetically; but the light
faded. He dropped his gaze to the floor and sighed. Then he shook his
head sadly. "It won't work, Grant--it won't work. I'm not built that
way. It won't work."

His fine sensitive mouth trembled, and he drew a deep breath that ended
in a hard dry cough. Then he rose, held out his hand and said:

"Now you watch out, Grant--they'll get you yet. I tell you it's
awful--that's the exact word--the way hate has driven this town mad." He
shook the cage door, and the jailer came from around a corner, and
unlocked the door, and in a moment Morty was walking slowly away with
his eyes on the cold steel of the cell-room floor.

When his visitor was gone, Grant Adams went back to his book. At the end
of an hour he went to the slit in his cell, which served as window, and
looked on a damp courtyard that gave him a narrow slice of Market Street
and the Federal court house in the distance. Men and women walking in
and out of the little stereoscopic view he had of the street, seemed to
the prisoner people in a play, or in another world. They were remote
from him. At the gestures they made, the gaits they fell into, the
errands they were going upon, the spring that obviously moved them, he
gazed as one who sees a dull pantomime. During the middle of the
morning, as he looked, he saw Judge Van Dorn's big, black motor car roll
up to the curb before the Federal court house and unload the spare,
dried-up, clothes-padded figure of the Judge, who flicked out of Grant's
eyeshot. A hundred other figures passed, and Ahab Wright, with his white
side-whiskers bristling testily, came bustling across the stereopticon
screen and turned to the court house and was gone. Young Joe Calvin,
dismounting from his white horse, came for a second into the picture,
and soon after the elder Calvin came trotting along beside Kyle Perry
with his heavy-footed gait, and the two turned as the Judge h