the body. He looked up and saw the headless figure beside him. The red flesh of the stump of the neck where the head once stood!

He found his voice at last. It breathed a prayer from the deep places of his soul.

"Lord Jesus, save me,- -save me now!"

With a leap he dropped the head, and broke the circle of white figures. He ran down the deserted street as he never ran before. He ran in leaps and as he turned the corner smashed into Julius who was returning from a walk with Blackmar.

Henry glanced back over his shoulder and Julius sternly demanded:

"Whare ye gwine, nigger?”

Henry shivered.

"I ain't gwine nowhar-I'se a comin away frum somefin-"

His voice had died to a whisper before he finished his answer. And he was on his way.

Julius watched his frantic flight with a pious smile. "De sneakin' coward-he might a-knowed I'd ketch 'im!" He was still laughing when he heard the hoofbeat of the Klan almost on him. He dropped flat in the ditch until they passed and crawled home on his hands and knees.

On his return to Independence next day, Wilkes learned of the escapade with a sickening sense of defeat. Nothing could stop them. It was a prank, of course, but it was a test of authority. They had defied his orders and he faced the future with dread.

CHAPTER XVIII

ANOTHER WARNING

HE next move of the Klan rapidly developed. The rough-necks had been more or less impressed with

TH

the stern orders from headquarters. But the moment they heard of the pranks on the negroes, they laughed. If the Klan disguise could be used for such cheap work as that, real men could go on using it for big ends.

And they lost no time in getting at it. For two nights their pickets roamed the county, testing a rumor that an organization of vigilantes had been developed to fight them in the field. They found no trace of such an organization.

On the third night just before dawn a squadron of black hoods rode quietly through town and stopped in front of Klein's cottage. The dog inside the house barked and they remained motionless until he was quiet. A shrouded figure slipped from the saddle and approached the door. He placed a torn piece of paper on the panel and pressed a tack into it.

The dog barked again. He waited a moment, walked back to his horse, and the squadron moved slowly out of town and back to their rendezvous in the forest of Inwood.

Klein heard the dog bark the second time and caught the stealthy footfall on the walkway as the intruder returned to his companions. Wide-eyed he lay awake until the sun rose and flooded the room with the crisp light of autumn.

The thing was ominous. He had been vaguely expect

ing this call since the new activities of the Klan had begun. If these marauders dared to kidnap a helpless native girl while her mother looked on in anguish, why should the ruffians spare a Jew of foreign birth? He had enemies -men he had beaten, fairly, in the game of commerce. They wouldn't miss this chance to strike. He had won

dered why they delayed.

He brooded over what it meant. He guessed it correctly. He felt the dirty fingers on his door panel fumbling the tack as if they had pressed it into his own breast.

While his wife was busy in the kitchen with breakfast, he cautiously opened the door, closed it, removed the piece of paper and read the crude scrawl:

"No Jews is wanted in this town- Git-or you may see the

"K.K.K."

He stared for a moment, hastily crumpled the paper and put it in his pocket. He would say nothing to his wife and boy. It would only distress them. They could not help.

He ate his breakfast with a forced gayety and hurried downtown. He went straight to Craig's office, heard voices inside and hesitated to enter. A caller had just gone in before him and left the door ajar. He could distinctly hear the conversation.

“What the devil, Ben, are you in town this early for?" Craig asked in surprise.

"Nuthin' much," Logan answered. "Couldn't sleep last three nights. Tuck a notion to come down here and sleep on that old sofy there for a while ef you don't mind ?" "You think it's as bad as that?"

"I know damn well it is—"

"What do you know?"

"I got a hunch."

Without further words the countryman took off his hat,

sat down and made himself at home.

Klein timidly rapped and Craig called cheerfully:

"Come in."

He was trembling in spite of his His fine eyes had in them the look At sight of him Logan slowly rose,

The Jew entered. effort at self-control. of a hunted animal. looked at Craig and said: "What did I tell ye!"

Craig placed a chair.

"Sit down, Nathan," he said cordially. "I'm glad to see you."

The visitor seated himself in a sort of daze, as if his mind were far away. He started to speak and failed. Craig put his hand on his shoulder.

"My good friend, what is it? You can say anything to Logan that you could say to me-"

Klein nodded.

He

"Yes, I know. He is your faithful friend—” paused, drew the scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to Craig. The lawyer read the note aloud to Logan and the two exchanged glances. The exchange was not lost on their caller. He shivered and rubbed his hands.

Craig smiled.

"I don't think this should worry you, Nathan. A lot of fool boys have set out to play pranks in Klan disguises. It must be one of their clumsy jokes—”

Klein shook his head.

"No, my friend-they mean it. I got that kind of warning in Poland once. I lived in London for ten years when I was a boy and learned to write and speak your

language. No boy wrote that scrawl. It is the work of an illiterate brute. Every twist of the pen is instinct with a coward's cruelty. Besides, I have the gift of knowing Before I saw that notice on my door I felt the ugly hand pressing the nail into the panel. I felt the presence of his shrouded companions waiting outside- 99

things in the dark.

"How many were there?" Craig interrupted.

"I do not know. From the sound of the horses' hoofs I should say eight or ten—

"So many?" "Yes."

Craig looked at his caller with a new sense of his appealing personality. There was an infinite sadness in his tones, a far-away look in his luminous eyes-in their somber deeps the pity and the pathos of a thousand years of martyrdom. Again he was struck with his resemblance to Hoffmann's Christ.

He turned toward his desk and picked up a worn copy of the Constitution of the Republic. He looked at its giltlettered title, opened the volume and turned toward Klein. "I want to tell you something, my friend. Here is the greatest charter of human rights ever penned

He touched the book reverently.

"When our fathers made this Constitution they wrote it in tears, with hands scarred by the martyr fires of centuries. They knew, these fathers of ours who gathered at Philadelphia in 1787, the history of man's bitter struggle for civil and religious liberty. They knew the sad story of the bloody religious wars that had cursed humanity. They knew that Catholic and Protestant were both guilty of these crimes. They also knew that both Catholic and Protestant had signed the Declaration of Inde