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menace smoldering in him like banked fires. But when he spoke for the second time his words were innocuous enough.

"I'm temporarily in charge here." His voice was vibrant as a great hollow drum. "Mr. Perry's mind, since he suffered his most unfortunate stroke, has not always been entirely clear, and Miss Eileen—too, I am temporarily without a pastorate, and I am glad to help in any way that I can. You understand, I'm sure?" He smiled, the sickeningly pious smile of the chronic hypocrite, and ostentatiously clasped his hands.

Again Tony nodded. "Yes, I understand, Reverend," he said quickly, although some obscure sixth sense had already warned him that this man was as slimy and dangerous as a water-moccasin—and as treacherous. But—that man in the field, working in the cotton with the brain-stuff hanging down behind his ear! Hurriedly Tony went on, "I spoke to Mr. Perry when I came up the steps—something must be done at once—there's a man working out there in the field beside the road with something seriously wrong with his head. My God, I looked at him, and it looked to me as though his skull was fractured!"

With surprising swiftness the colossus turned upon Tony.

"What's that you say? It looked as though what?"

Bruskly Tony rasped, "A man working in the field with a fractured skull. Reverend! His head looks staved in—bashed open—God knows how he can still work. He's got to be brought to the house."

The giant's too brilliant, too intense black eyes were suddenly crafty. He laughed, patronizingly, as though humoring a child or a drunkard.

"Oh, come, come, Mr. Kent; such things are impossible, you know. A trick of the light, or perhaps your weariness; you've driven a long distance, haven't you?—one's eyes play strange tricks upon one."

He peered at Tony, and suddenly the expression on his face changed. "But if you're worried, we'll convince you, put your mind at ease. You go and get Cullen, Mose and Job. Jump smart, niggers!" He pointed up the road. "Jump smart; bring Cullen back here; Mr. Kent's got to be shown," His thin lips curled scornfully.

The two Negroes "jumped smart." The Reverend Warren Barnes calmly seated himself in one of the wicker chairs near paralytic old Robert Perry and waved carelessly toward a vacant chair. Tony sat down—glanced inquiringly at Eileen's uncle. But the aged man remained silent, apathetic, indifferent. Obviously, Tony thought, his mind was enfeebled; in that, at least, the Reverend Barnes had been truthful.

Almost diffidently Tony addressed the white-haired old paralytic.

"I've come here to speak with Eileen, Mr. Perry. I can't believe that she meant—what she wrote in her last letter. Regardless of whether or not her feelings toward me have changed, I must speak to her. Where is she?"

When the old man spoke his voice was flat and hard.

"Eileen has written to tell you that she wished to terminate whatever—had been between you. Perhaps she has decided that she would prefer not to become too deeply involved with a Northerner. Perhaps she has other reasons. But in any case, Mr. Kent, you are not acting the gentleman in coming here and attempting to renew an acquaintanceship that has been quite definitely broken off."

The words were brutal, and not at all the sort of speech Tony would have expected, a moment ago, from a man whose mind had dimmed through age and shock. A sharp, involuntary retort surged to Tony's lips. Suddenly, then, the Reverend Barnes guffawed loudly.

"There, Mr. Kent!" he chuckled. It was