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CHAPTER XXV
KATHERINE FACES THE ENEMY
Katherine took up the receiver in tremulous hands.
“Hello! Is this Mr. Blake?”
“Yes,” came a familiar voice over the wire. “Is this Miss West?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“I have a matter which I wish to discuss with you immediately.”
“I am engaged for this evening,” she returned, as calmly as she could. “If to-morrow you still desire to see me, I can possibly arrange it then.”
“I must see you to-night – at once!” he insisted. “It is a matter of the utmost importance. Not so much to me as to you,” he added meaningly.
“If it is so important, then suppose you come here,” she replied.
“I cannot possibly do so. I am bound here by a number of affairs. I have anticipated that you would come, and have sent my car for you. It will be there in two minutes.”
Katherine put her hand over the mouthpiece, and repeated Blake’s request to Old Hosie and Billy Harper.
“What shall I do?” she asked.
“Tell him to go to!” said Billy promptly. “You’ve got him where you want him. Don’t pay any more attention to him.”
“I’d like to know what he’s up to,” mused Old Hosie.
“And so would I,” agreed Katherine, thoughtfully. “I can’t do anything more here; he can’t hurt me; so I guess I’ll go.”
She removed her hand from the mouthpiece and leaned toward it.
“Where are you, Mr. Blake?”
“At my home.”
“Very well. I am coming.”
She stood up.
“Will you come with me?” she asked Old Hosie.
“Of course,” said the old lawyer with alacrity. And then he chuckled. “I’d like to see how the Senator looks to-night!”
“I’ll just take these proofs along,” she said, thrusting them inside her coat.
The next instant she and Old Hosie were hurrying down the stairway. As they came into the street the Westville Brass Band blew the last notes of “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,” out of cornets and trombones; the great crowd, intoxicated with enthusiasm, responded with palm-blistering applause; and then the candidate for president of the city council arose to make his oratorical contribution. He had got no further than his first period when Blake’s automobile glided up before the Express office, and at once Katherine and Old Hosie stepped into the tonneau.
They sped away from this maelstrom of excitement into the quiet residential streets, Katherine wondering what Blake desired to see her about, and wondering if there could possibly be some flaw in her plan that she had overlooked, and if after all Blake still had some weapon in reserve with which he could defeat her. Five minutes later they were at Blake’s door. They were instantly admitted, and Katherine was informed that Blake awaited her in his library.
She had had no idea in what state of mind she would find Blake, but she had at least expected to find him alone. But instead, when she entered the library with Old Hosie, a small assembly rose to greet her. There was Blake, Blind Charlie Peck, Manning, and back in a shadowy corner a rather rotund gentleman, whom she had observed in Westville the last few days, and whom she knew to be Mr. Brown of the National Electric & Water Company.
Blake’s face was pale and set, and his dark eyes gleamed with an unusual brilliance. But in his compressed features Katherine could read nothing of what was in his mind.
“Good evening,” he said with cold politeness.
“Will you please sit down, Miss West. And you also, Mr. Hollingsworth.”
Katherine thanked him with a nod, and seated herself. She found her chair so placed that she was the centre of the gaze of the little assembly.
“I take it for granted, Miss West,” Blake began steadily, formally, “that you are aware of the reason for my requesting you to come here.”
“On the other hand, I must confess myself entirely ignorant,” Katherine quietly returned.
“Pardon me if I am forced to believe otherwise. But nevertheless, I will explain. It has come to me that you are now engaged in getting out an issue of the Express, in which you charge that Mr. Peck and myself are secretly in collusion to defraud the city. Is that correct?”
“Entirely so,” said Katherine.
She felt full command of herself, yet every instant she was straining to peer ahead and discover, before it fell, the suspected counter-stroke.
“Before going further,” Blake continued, “I will say that Mr. Peck and I, though personal and political enemies, must join forces against such a libel directed at us both. This will explain Mr. Peck’s presence in my house for the first time in his life. Now, to resume our business. What you are about to publish is a libel. It is for your sake, chiefly, that I have asked you here.”
“For my sake?”
“For your sake. To warn you, if you are not already aware of it, of the danger you are plunging into headlong. But surely you are acquainted with our libel laws.”
“I am.”
His face, aside from its cold, set look, was still without expression; his voice was low-pitched and steady.
“Then of course you understand your risk,” he continued. “You have had a mild illustration of the working of the law in the case of Mr. Bruce. But the case against him was not really pressed. The court might not deal so leniently with you. I believe you get my meaning?”
“Perfectly,” said Katherine.
There was a silence. Katherine was determined not to speak first, but to force Blake to take the lead.
“Well?” said he.
“I was waiting to hear what else you had to say,” she replied.
“Well, you are aware that what you purpose printing is a most dangerous libel?”
“I am aware that you seem to think it so.”
“There is no thinking about it; it is libel!” he returned. For the first time there was a little sharpness in his voice. “And now, what are you going to do?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Suppress the paper.”
“Is that advice, or a wish, or a command?”
“Suppose I say all three.”
Her eyes did not leave his pale, intent face. She was instantly more certain that he had some weapon in reserve. But still she failed to guess what it might be.
“Well, what are you going to do?” he repeated.
“I am going to print the paper,” said Katherine.
An instant of stupefied silence followed her quiet answer.
“You are, are you?” cried Blind Charlie, springing up. “Well, let me – ”
“Sit down, Peck!” Blake ordered sharply
“Come, give me a chance at her!”
“Sit down! I’m handling this!” Blake cried with sudden harshness.
“Well, then, show her where she’s at!” grumbled Blind Charlie, subsiding into his chair.
Blake turned back to Katherine. His face was again impassive.
“And so it is your intention to commit this monstrous libel?” he asked in his former composed tone.
“Perhaps it is not libel,” said Katherine.
“You mean that you think you have proofs?”
“No. That is not my meaning.”
“What then do you mean?”
“I mean that I have proofs.”
“Ah, at last we are coming to the crux of the matter. Since you have proofs for your statements, you think there is no libel?”
“I believe that is sound law,” said Katherine.
“It is sound enough law,” he said. He leaned toward her, and there was now the glint of triumph in his eyes. “But suppose the proofs were not sound?”
Katherine started.
“The proofs not sound?”
“Yes. I suppose your article is based upon testimony?”
“Of course.”
His next words were spoken slowly, that each might sink deeply in.
“Well, suppose your witnesses had found they were mistaken and had repudiated their testimony? What then?”
She sank back in her chair. At last the expected blow had fallen. She sat dazed, thinking wildly. Had they got to Doctor Sherman since she had seen him, and forced him to recant? Had Manning, offered the world by them in this crisis, somehow sold her out? She searched the latter’s face with consternation. But he wore a rather stolid look that told her nothing.
Blake read the effect of his words in her white face and dismayed manner.
“Suppose they have repudiated their statements? What then?” he crushingly persisted.
She caught desperately at her courage and her vanishing triumph.
“But they have not repudiated.”
“You think not? You shall see!”
He turned to Blind Charlie. “Tell him to step in.”
Blind Charlie moved quickly to a side door. Katherine leaned forward and stared after him, breathless, her heart stilled. She expected the following moment to see the slender figure of Doctor Sherman enter the room, and hear his pallid lips deny he had ever made the confession of a few hours before.
Blind Charlie opened the door.
“They’re ready for you,” he called.
It was all Katherine could do to keep from springing up and letting out a sob of relief. For it was not Doctor Sherman who entered. It was the broad and sumptuous presence of Elijah Stone, detective. He crossed and stood before Blake.
“Mr. Stone,” said Blake, sharply, “I want you to answer a few questions for the benefit of Miss West. First of all, you were employed by Miss West on a piece of detective work, were you not?”
“I was,” said Mr. Stone, avoiding Katherine’s eye.
“And the nature of your employment was to try to discover evidence of an alleged conspiracy against the city on my part?”
“It was.”
“And you made to her certain reports?”
“I did.”
“Let me inform you that she has used those reports as the basis of a libellous story which she is about to print. Now answer me, did you give her any real evidence that would stand the test of a court room?”
Mr. Stone gazed at the ceiling.
“My statements to her were mere surmises,” he said with the glibness of a rehearsed answer. “Nothing but conjecture – no evidence at all.”
“What is your present belief concerning these conjectures?”
“I have since discovered that my conjectures were all mistakes.”
“That will do, Mr. Stone!”
Blake turned quickly upon Katherine. “Well, now what have you got to say?” he demanded.
She could have laughed in her joy.
“First of all,” she called to the withdrawing detective, “I have this to say to you, Mr. Stone. When you sold out to these people, I hope you made them pay you well.”
The detective flushed, but he had no chance to reply.
“This is no time for levity, Miss West!” Blake said sharply. “Now you see your predicament. Now you see what sort of testimony your libel is built upon.”
“But my libel is not built upon that testimony.”
“Not built – ” He now first observed that Katherine was smiling. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. That my story is not based on Mr. Stone’s testimony.”
There were exclamations from Mr. Brown and Blind Charlie.
“Eh – what?” said Blake. “But you hired Stone as a detective?”
“And he was eminently successful in carrying out the purpose for which I hired him. That purpose was to be watched, and bought off, by you.”
Blake sank back and stared at her.
“Then your story is based – ”
“Partly on the testimony of Doctor Sherman,” she said.
Blake came slowly up to his feet.
“Doctor Sherman?” he breathed.
“Yes, of Doctor Sherman.”
Blind Charlie moved quickly forward.
“What’s that?” he cried.
“It’s not true!” burst from Blake’s lips. “Doctor Sherman is in Canada!”
“When I saw him two hours ago he was at his wife’s bedside.”
“It’s not true!” Blake huskily repeated.
“And I might add, Mr. Blake,” Katherine pursued, “that he made a full statement of everything – everything! – and that he gave me a signed confession.”
Blake stared at her blankly. A sickly pallor was creeping over his face.
Katherine stood up.
“And I might furthermore add, gentlemen,” she went on, now also addressing Blind Charlie, “that I know all about the water-works deal, and the secret agreement among you.”
“Hold on! You’re going too far!” the old politician cried savagely. “You’ve got no evidence against me!”
“I could hardly help having it, since I was present at your proceedings.”
“You?”
“Personally and by proxy. I am the agent of Mr. Seymour of New York. Mr. Hartsell here, otherwise Mr. Manning, has represented me, and has turned over to me the agreement you signed to-day.”
They whirled about upon Manning, who continued unperturbed in his chair.
“What she says is straight, gentlemen,” he said. “I have only been acting for Miss West.”
A horrible curse fell from the thick, loose lips of Blind Charlie Peck. Blake, his sickly pallor deepening, stared from Manning to Katherine.
“It isn’t so! It can’t be so!” he breathed wildly.
“If you want to see just what I’ve got, here it is,” said Katherine, and she tossed the bundle of proofs upon the desk.
Blake seized the sheets in feverish hands. Blind Charlie stepped to his side, and Mr. Brown slipped forward out of his corner and peered over their shoulders. First they saw the two facsimiles, then their eyes swept in the leading points of Billy Harper’s fiery story. Then a low cry escaped from Blake. He had come upon Billy Harper’s great page-wide headline:
“BLAKE CONSPIRES TO SWINDLE WESTVILLE;
DIRECT CAUSE OF CITY’S SICK AND DEAD.”
At that Blake collapsed into his chair and gazed with ashen face at the black, accusing letters. This relentless summary of the situation appalled them all into a moment’s silence.
Blind Charlie was the first to speak.
“That paper must never come out!” he shouted.
Blake raised his gray-hued face.
“How are you going to stop it?”
“Here’s how,” cried Peck, his one eye ablaze with fierce energy. “That crowd at the Square is still all for you, Blake. Don’t let the girl out of the house! I’ll rush to the Square, rouse the mob properly, and they’ll raid the office, rip up the presses, plates, paper, every damned thing!”
“No – no – I’ll not stand for that!” Blake burst out.
But Blind Charlie had already started quickly away. Not so quickly, however, but that the very sufficient hand of Manning was about his wrist before he reached the door.
“I guess we won’t be doing that to-night, Mr. Peck,” Manning said quietly.
The old politician stood shaking with rage and erupting profanity. But presently this subsided, and he stood, as did the others, gazing down at Blake. Blake sat in his chair, silent, motionless, with scarcely a breath, his eyes fixed on the headline. His look was as ghastly as a dead man’s, a look of utter ruin, of ruin so terrible and complete that his dazed mind could hardly comprehend it.
There was a space of profound silence in the room. But after a time Blind Charlie’s face grew malignantly, revengefully jocose.
“Well, Blake,” said he, “I guess this won’t hurt me much after all. I guess I haven’t much reputation to lose. But as for you, who started this business – you the pure, moral, high-minded reformer – ”
He interrupted himself by raising a hand.
“Listen!”
Faintly, from the direction of the Square, came the dim roar of cheering, and then the outburst of the band. Blind Charlie, with a cynical laugh, clapped a hand upon Blake’s shoulder.
“Don’t you hear ’em, Blake? Brace up! The people still are for you!”
Blake did not reply. The old man bent down, his face now wholly hard.
“And anyhow, Blake, I’m getting this satisfaction out of the business. I’ve had it in for you for a dozen years, and now you’re going to get it good and plenty! Good night and to hell with you!”
Blake did not look up. Manning slipped an arm through the old man’s.
“I’ll go along with you for a little while,” said Manning quietly. “Just to see that you don’t start any trouble.”
As the pair were going out Mr. Brown, who had thus far not said a single word, bent his fatherly figure over Blake.
“Of course, you realize, Mr. Blake, that our relations are necessarily at an end,” he said in a low voice.
“Of course,” Blake said dully.
“I’m very sorry we cannot help you, but of course you realize we cannot afford to be involved in a mess like this. Good night.” And he followed the others out, Old Hosie behind him.
For a space Katherine stood alone, gazing down upon Blake’s bowed and silent figure. Now that it was all over, now that his allies had all deserted him, to see this man whom she had known as so proud, so strong, so admired, with such a boundless future – who had once been her own ideal of a great man – who had once declared himself her lover – to see this man now brought so low, stirred in her a strange emotion, in which there was something of pity, something of sympathy, and a tugging remembrance of the love he long ago had offered.
But the noise of the front door closing upon the men recalled her to herself, and very softly, so as not to disturb him, she started away. Her hand was on the knob, when there sounded a dry and husky voice from behind her.
“Wait, Katherine! Wait!”
CHAPTER XXVI
AN IDOL’S FALL
She turned. Blake had risen from his chair.
“What is it?” she asked.
He came up to her, the proofs still in his hands. He was unsteady upon his feet, like a man dizzy from a heavy blow. The face which she had been accustomed to see only as full of poise and strength and dignity was now supremely haggard. When he spoke he spoke in uttermost despair – huskily, chokingly, yet with an effort at control.
“Do you know what this is going to do to me?” he asked, holding out the proof-sheets.
“Yes,” she said.
“It is going to ruin me – reputation, fortune, future! Everything!”
She did not answer him.
“Yes, that is going to be the result,” he continued in his slow, husky voice. “Only one thing can save me.”
“And that?”
He stared at her for a moment with wildly burning eyes. Then he wet his dry lips.
“That is for you to countermand this extra.”
“You ask me to do that?”
“It is my only chance. I do.”
“I believe you are out of your mind!” she cried.
“I believe I am!” he said hoarsely.
“Think just a moment, and you will see that what you ask is quite impossible. Just think a moment.”
He was silent for a time. A tremor ran through him, his body stiffened.
“No, I do not ask it,” he said. “I am not trying to excuse myself now, but when a thing falls so unexpectedly, so suddenly – ” A choking at the throat stopped him. “If I have seemed to whimper, I take it back. You have beaten me, Katherine. But I hope I can take defeat like a man.”
She did not answer.
They continued gazing at one another. In the silence of the great house they could hear each other’s agitated breathing. Into his dark face, now turned so gray, there crept a strange, drawn look – a look that sent a tingling through all her body.
“What is it?” she asked.
“To think,” he exclaimed in a low, far-away voice, almost to himself, “that I have lost everything through you! Through you, through whom I might have gained everything!”
“Gained everything? Through me?” she repeated. “How?”
“I am sure I would have kept out of such things – as this – if, five years ago, you had said ‘yes’ instead of ‘no’.”
“Said yes?” she breathed.
“I think you would have kept me in the straight road. For I would not have dared to fall below your standards. For I” – he drew a deep, convulsive breath – “for I loved you, Katherine, better than anything in all the world!”
She trembled at the intensity of his voice.
“You loved me – like that?”
“Yes. And since I have lost you, and lost everything, there is perhaps no harm in my telling you something else. Only on that one night did I open my lips about love to you – but I have loved you through all the years since then. And … and I still love you.”
“You still love me?” she whispered.
“I still love you.”
She stared at him.
“And yet all these months you have fought against me!”
“I have not fought against you,” he said. “Somehow, I got started in this way, and I have fought to win – have fought against exposure, against defeat.”
“And you still love me?” she murmured, still amazed.
As she gazed at him there shot into her a poignant pang of pity for this splendid figure, tottering on the edge of the abyss. For an instant she thought only of him.
“You asked me a moment ago to suppress the paper,” she cried impulsively. “Shall I do it?”
“I now ask nothing,” said he.
“No – no – I can’t suppress the paper!” she said in anguish. “That would be to leave father disgraced, and Mr. Bruce disgraced, and the city – But what are you going to do?”
“I do not know. This has come so suddenly. I have had no time to think.”
“You must at least have time to think! If you had an hour – two hours?”
There was a momentary flash of hope in his eyes.
“If I had an hour – ”
“Then we’ll delay the paper!” she cried.
She sprang excitedly to the telephone upon Blake’s desk. The next instant she had Billy Harper on the wire, Blake watching her, motionless in his tracks.
“Mr. Harper,” she said, “it is now half-past ten. I want you to hold the paper back till eleven-thirty… What’s that?”
She listened for a moment, then slowly hung up the receiver. She did not at once turn round, but when she did her face was very white.
“Well?” Blake asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper. “The paper has been upon the street for ten minutes.”
They gazed at one another for several moments, both motionless, both without a word. Then thin, sharp cries penetrated the room. Blake’s lips parted.
“What is that?” he asked mechanically.
Katherine crossed and raised a window. Through it came shrill, boyish voices:
“Extry! Extry! All about the great Blake conspiracy!”
These avant couriers of Blake’s disgrace sped onward down the avenue. Katherine turned slowly back to Blake. He still stood in the same posture, leaning heavily upon an arm that rested on his mahogany desk. He did not speak. Nor was there anything that Katherine could say.
It was for but a moment or two that they stood in this strained silence. Then a dim outcry sounded from the centre of the town. In but a second, it seemed, this outcry had mounted to a roar.
“It is the crowd – at the Square,” said Blake, in a dry whisper.
“Yes.”
“The extra – they have seen it.”
The roar rose louder – louder. It was like the thunder of an on-rushing flood that has burst its dam. It began to separate into distinct cries, and the shuffle of running feet.
“They are coming this way,” said Blake in his same dry, mechanical tone.
There was no need for Katherine to reply. The fact was too apparent. She moved to the open window, and stood there waiting. The roar grew nearer – nearer. In but a moment, it seemed to her, the front of this human flood appeared just beyond her own house. The next moment the crowd began to pour into Blake’s wide lawn – by the hundreds – by the thousands. Many of them still carried in clenched hands crumpled copies of the Express. Here and there, luridly illuminating the wild scene, blazed a smoking torch of a member of the Blake Marching Club. And out of the mouths of this great mob, which less than a short hour before had lauded him to the stars – out of the mouths of these his erewhile idolaters, came the most fearful imprecations, the most fearful cries for vengeance.
Katherine became aware that Blake was standing behind her gazing down upon this human storm. She turned, and in his pallid face she plainly read the passionate regret that was surging through his being. His had been the chance to serve these people, and serve them with honour to himself – honour that hardly had a limit. And now he had lost them, lost them utterly and forever, and with them had lost everything!
Some one below saw his face at the window and swore shriekingly to have his life. Blake drew quickly back and stood again beside his desk. He was white – living flesh could not be more white – but he still maintained that calm control which had succeeded his first desperate consternation.
“What are you going to do?” Katherine asked.
He very quietly drew out a drawer of his desk and picked up a pistol.
“What!” she cried. “You are not going to fight them off!”
“No. I have injured enough of them already,” he replied in his measured tone. “Keep all this from my mother as long as you can – at least till she is stronger.”
As she saw his intention Katherine sprang forward and caught the weapon he was turning upon himself.
“No! No! You must not do that!”
“But I must,” he returned quietly. “Listen!”
The cries without had grown more violent. The heavy front door was resounding with blows.
“Don’t you see that this is the only thing that’s left?” he asked.
“And don’t you see,” she said rapidly, “its effect upon your mother? In her weakened condition, your death will be her death. You just said you had injured enough already. Do you want to kill one more? And besides, and in spite of all,” she added with a sudden fire, “there’s a big man in you! Face it like that man!”
He hesitated. Then he relaxed his hold upon the pistol, still without speaking. Katherine returned it to its place and closed the drawer.
At this instant Old Hosie, who had been awaiting Katherine below, rushed excitedly into the library.
“Don’t you know hell’s broke loose?” he cried to Katherine. “They’ll have that front door down in a minute! Come on!”
But Katherine could not take her gaze from Blake’s pale, set face.
“What are you going to do?” she asked again.
“What is he going to do?” exclaimed Old Hosie. “Better ask what that mob is going to do. Listen to them!”
A raging cry for Blake’s life ascended, almost deafening their ears.
“No, no – they must not do that!” exclaimed Katherine, and breathlessly she darted from the room.
Old Hosie looked grimly at Blake.
“You deserve it, Blake. But I’m against mob law. Quick, slip out the back way. You can just catch the eleven o’clock express and get out of the State.”
Without waiting to see the effect of his advice Old Hosie hurried after Katherine. She had reached the bottom of the stairway just as cooperated shoulders crashed against the door and made it shiver on its hinges. Her intention was to go out and speak to the crowd, but to open the front door was to admit and be overwhelmed by the maddened mob. She knew the house almost as well as she knew her own, and she recalled that the dining-room had a French window which opened upon the piazza on the side away from the crowd. She ran back through the darkened rooms, swung open this window and ran about the piazza to the front door. As she reached it, the human battering-ram drew back for another infuriated lunge.
She sprang between the men and the door.
“Stop! Stop!” she cried.
“What the hell’s this!” ejaculated the leader of the assault.
“Say, if it ain’t a woman!” cried a member of the battering-ram.
“Out of the way with you!” roared the leader in a fury.
But she placed her back against the door.
“Stop – men! Give me just one word!”
“Better stop this, boys!” gasped a man at the foot of the steps, struggling in half a dozen pairs of arms. “I warn you! It’s against the law!”
“Shut up, Jim Nichols; this is our business!” cried the leader to the helpless sheriff. “And now, you” – turning again to Katherine – “out of the way!”
The seething, torch-lit mob on the lawn below repeated his cry. The leader, his wrath increasing, seized Katherine roughly by the arm and jerked her aside:
“Now, all together, boys!” he shouted.
But at that instant upon the front of the mob there fell a tall, lean fury with a raging voice and a furiously swinging cane. It was Old Hosie. Before this fierce chastisement, falling so suddenly upon their heads, the battering-ram for a moment pressed backward.
“You fools! You idiots!” the old man cried, and his high, sharp voice cut through all the noises of the mob. “Is that the way you treat the woman that saved you!”
“Saved us?” some one shouted incredulously. “Her save us?”
“Yes, saved you!” Old Hosie cried in a rising voice down upon the heads of the crowd. His cane had ceased its flailing; the crowd had partially ceased its uproar. “Do you know who that woman is? She’s Katherine West!”
“Oh, the lady lawyer!” rose several jeering voices.
For the moment Old Hosie’s tall figure, with his cane outstretched, had the wrathful majesty of a prophet of old, denouncing his foolish and reprobate people.
“Go on, all of you, laugh at her to-night!” he shouted. “But after to-night you’ll all slink around Westville, ashamed to look anything in the face higher than a dog! For half a year you’ve been sneering at Katherine West. And see how she’s paid you back! It was she that found out your enemy. It was she that dug up all the facts and evidence you’ve read in those papers there. It was she that’s saved you from being robbed. And now – ”
“She done all that?” exclaimed a voice from the now stilled mob.
“Yes, she done all that!” shouted Old Hosie. “And what’s more, she got out that paper in your hands. While you’ve been sneering at her, she’s been working for you. And now, after all this, you’re not even willing to listen to a word from her!” His voice rose in its contemptuous wrath still one note higher. “And now listen to me! I’m going to tell you exactly what you are! You are all – ”
But Westville never learned exactly what it was. Just then Old Hosie was firmly pulled back by the tails of his Prince Albert coat and found himself in the possession of the panting, dishevelled sheriff of Galloway County.
“You’ve made your point, Hosie,” said Jim Nichols. “They’ll listen to her now.”
Katherine stepped forward into the space Old Hosie had involuntarily vacated. With the torchlights flaring up into her face she stood there breathing deeply, awed into momentary silence by the great crowd and by the responsibility that weighed upon her.
“If, as Mr. Hollingsworth has said,” she began in a tremulous but clear voice that carried to the farthest confines of the lawn, “you owe me anything, all I ask in return is that you refrain from mob violence;” and she went on to urge upon them the lawful course. The crowd, taken aback by the accusations and revelations Old Hosie had flung so hotly into their faces, strangely held by her impassioned woman’s figure pedestalled above them on the porch, listened to her with an attention and respect which they as yet were far from understanding.
She felt that she had won her audience, that she had turned them back to lawful measures, when suddenly there was a roar of “Blake! Blake!” – the stilled crowd became again a mob – and she saw that the focus of their gaze had shifted from her to a point behind her. Looking about, she saw that the door had opened, and that Blake, pale and erect, was standing in the doorway. The crowd tried to surge forward, but the front ranks, out of their new and but half-comprehended respect for Katherine, stood like a wall against the charge that would have overwhelmed her.
