“Put away that rope, boys!  There’s law here, and by God, we’re going to maintain it!”

At this a man pushes his way out of the thick of the crowd and climbs to a seat beside the chauffeur in the waiting automobile.

“They’ve got him,” he says shortly.  “To the hotel for all you’re worth, Hudgins; our part is to get this on the wires before one o’clock.  Full speed; and never mind the ruts.”

XXX

SUBHI SADIK

The dawn of a new day was graying over the capital city, and the newsboys were crying lustily in the streets, when David Kent felt his way up the dark staircases of the Kittleton Building to knock at the door of Judge Oliver Marston’s rooms on the top floor.  He was the bearer of tidings, and he made no more than a formal excuse for the unseemly hour when the door was opened by the lieutenant-governor.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Judge Marston,” he began, when he had the closed door at his back and was facing the tall thin figure in flannel dressing gown and slippers, “but I imagine I’m only a few minutes ahead of the crowd.  Have you heard the news of the night?”

The judge pressed the button of the drop-light and waved his visitor to a chair.

“I have heard nothing, Mr. Kent.  Have a cigar?”—­passing the box of unutterable stogies.

“Thank you; not before breakfast,” was the hasty reply.  Then, without another word of preface:  “Judge Marston, for the time being you are the governor of the State, and I have come to——­”

“One moment,” interrupted his listener.  “There are some stories that read better for a foreword, however brief.  What has happened?”

“This:  last night it was the purpose of Governor Bucks and Receiver Guilford to go to Gaston by special train.  In some manner, which has not yet been fully explained, there was a confusion of orders.  Instead of proceeding eastward, the special was switched to the tracks of the Western Division; was made the first section of the fast mail, which had orders to run through without stop.  You can imagine the result.”

Marston got upon his feet slowly and began pacing the length of the long room.  Kent waited, and the shrill cries of the newsboys floated up and in through the open windows.  When the judge finally came back to his chair the saturnine face was gray and haggard.

“I hope it was an accident that can be clearly proved,” he said; and a moment later:  “You spoke of Bucks and Guilford; were there others in the private car?”

“Two others; Halkett, and the governor’s private secretary.”

“And were they all killed?”

A great light broke in upon Kent when he saw how Marston had misapprehended.  Also, he saw how much it would simplify matters if he should be happy enough to catch the ball in the reactionary rebound.

“They are all alive and uninjured, to the best of my knowledge and belief; though I understand that one of them narrowly escaped lynching at the hands of an excited mob.”