She passed swiftly through the crowd while Wilkes followed.

Hawkins, gasping again for breath, tore at his throat, revealing the dark bloodstain on his shirt just over the heart. His daughter stared a moment in dumb horror, slipped her arm around his neck, held his head and murmured:

"For God's sake, daddy dear, what is it? What's happened?"

At the touch of her hand and the sound of her loved voice he tried to speak and failed. He lifted his head and it drooped.

Claudia turned to the girl.

"Stop the music-oh, stop the music-"

The girl ran into the ballroom and lifted her hand to the musicians.

"Stop it-stop the music!"

The leader's eyes widened. The music stopped with a crash.

"What's the matter?" a dancer cried.

"The Judge has been stabbed!" the girl gasped.

The musicians stared at the confused mass in the ballThe leader suddenly leaped through the open window and the whole band followed.

room.

As two unmasked figures emerged from the vault, Blackmar seized the negro's arm and shook him.

"Pull yourself together now, you fool, or we'll both be hung!"

"Yassah-I knows that," faltered Julius. "I des been selectin' de color o' my coffin!"

Blackmar scribbled a line on a card and pressed it into his hand with two twenty-dollar bills.

"Here's the address in Columbia, S. C., and here's money. Go there on the train to-night. Stay until I

send for you.

Don't you dare come back into the state till I tell you it's all right-"

Julius stood in dumb misery and slowly followed the carpetbagger through the shrubbery.

When Claudia had recovered from the first shock, she turned to Wilkes who had unmasked.

"A doctor-quick-”

Wilkes rushed for the door and Claudia again slipped her arm around her father's neck. With a lace handkerchief she wiped the stains from his face. The hand that clutched at his heart had carried the stains to his throat and cheeks.

She pressed her face against his and the tears blinded her. Hawkins, with an effort, lifted his hand and touched her hair.

A cry of anguish came through her set lips in spite of her effort at control. The fingers on her hair trembled in a tender gesture of love.

She begged her father to live.

Let me

"Oh, daddy dear, please live and let me show you how sorry I am that this has happened through me. show you how much I love you—"

His strength flared for an instant. He stroked her hair and smiled tenderly. He tried to speak and couldn't. She bent low and listened eagerly, to catch the faintest word. He tried to tell her of the crime, but all he said

was:

"Masked-masked-"

The big head sank on her breast. His body quivered. The girl's face blanched in the presence of Death. She felt the white messenger at her side, as he laid his cold hand on the sinking shoulder. She ceased to sob, lowered the head against the armchair and slowly rose to her feet.

Her face hardened as she saw the huddled crowd of masked figures. She pointed to the door and said:

"Go-please-"

In painful silence they hurried out talking in excited whispers. A cloud obscured the moon and wrapped the house in deep shadows. The bird that had been singing in opposition to the band stopped when the white figures swarmed across the lawn. A weird silence fell on the scene, broken at last by the neighing of a restless, robed horse.

Claudia heard the tremulous animal cry in the dark outside and suddenly drew herself erect, her face set in a new life purpose. A gentle voice within breathed the warning: "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord-" But the voice was smothered in the fierce cry of outraged love, and the resolution taken that would yet overwhelm her own soul in disaster.

T

CHAPTER XXII

THE TAINTED AIR

HE next morning, Blackmar was the first to call on Claudia. He offered his sympathy and untiring

efforts to avenge her father's death. His manner was so sincere, his words so convincing she had decided to place the whole affair in his hands, when a single note of calculation in his voice stopped her. Sure of his success, he suddenly suggested to her that as Chairman of the Executive Committee of their party he would arrange a state funeral and make this murder the one issue of the campaign.

The girl threw him a quick glance of suspicion. She had not slept all night. The long vigil alone in her room had sharpened her senses. Every nerve was taut. Every faculty tense with an unnatural power. Her intuitions were never so keen. She studied the fine face of the old soldier of fortune. His piercing eyes met hers without flinching. Yet, somewhere in their depths, she caught the flicker of a false signal. She felt it vaguely, but it was enough to make her hesitate for a moment in her answer.

Blackmar was quick to catch the flash of suspicion, and made another mistake in his eagerness to correct his first blunder. His safety lay in first disarming every suspicion on the part of Claudia. He hastened to explain his larger purpose in the suggestion.

"I know you may suspect my motives as a political rival of your father's, Miss Claudia. But you must believe me when I tell you that, in the shadow of this crime, all the

little differences between us are forgotten. The dead man is the martyr of our cause. We stand for law and order. I can rally at his grave ten thousand men from every quarter of the state. I can start a crusade that will end in certain victory-"

The girl's head suddenly lifted. She spoke slowly, her right hand still uplifted for silence.

"You were my father's chief rival for the nomination, were you not?"

“Yes, but"

She silenced him again and went on evenly.

"You will probably be nominated in his place. I will not permit my father's funeral to be made a place for stump speeches-nor allow a rival to take advantage of it to win office."

"I am sorry you feel like this," Blackmar sighed in agreement with her decision. "At least, I may invite a hundred or more of our leaders to act as honorary pallbearers?"

Her face slowly hardened.

"Not one, please. The funeral will be conducted as quietly as possible here. Those of his personal friends who wish can attend. I will not have it made into a political rally."

Blackmar was puzzled. It was preposterous to think that she suspected the truth. Her opposition was the reflection of her antagonism aroused on the day of the convention. Perhaps he had overplayed his part in expressing his sympathy and indignation. On second thought he knew that he had not. It was simply a case of a woman's supersensitive mind. In her subconscious being she had sensed his hatred of the Judge. It was useless to argue or plead. He felt the ring of steel in her words.