IT WAS one o’clock before Stella recovered from the first collapse of terror for the fate of her lover. And then the imperious will summoned every energy to the struggle for his liberty and life.

She changed her riding habit and, taking Maggie, started at half past one in the morning to find Ackerman.

She had gone half way to Mrs. Wilson’s before she recalled the startling fact that her relations to Ackerman were unknown, and the still more painful fact that all knowledge of her relations to the detective must now be concealed with the utmost care. She felt instinctively that if John Graham discovered her plan to entrap him into a confession and her betrayal of his generous trust in her love, he could not forgive it. She shivered at the thought of his anger and disgust.

“We’ll go to the jail, Maggie,” she said, with sudden energy, “where is it?”

“Right down de nex street, I show ye,” Maggie answered. “I been dar lots er times. I wuz down dar yistiddy ter see my uncle Joe start ter de penitentiary.”

Stella shuddered, followed her down the side street, and knocked at the jail door.

No one answered. She knocked again and again. Finally the jailor thrust his head from the window above, saw it was a woman, shut the sash with a bang and went back to bed.

Stella looked at the grim walls with a sense of blind fury.

“I’ll show that insolent lazy rascal to-morrow morning how to treat me,” she cried, as she turned and started home. When they reached the corner she stopped, looked back at the jail looming black, silent and threatening among the shadows, and her heart went out in an agony of piteous yearning to the man within its walls.

Maggie pointed to the mass of trees behind the jail.

“See dem trees dar behin’ de house?”

Her mistress gave no answer, and the maid rattled on in awed whispers:

“Dars where dey hang folks! Dey’s er high fence roun’ de yard, but ye can see over it from here. I stan’ right on dis corner an’ see ’em hang a man dar las’ year.”

“Hush Maggie!” Stella sternly commanded.

“Yassum.”

Stella hurried home, and paced the floor of her room until morning.

At eight o’clock, in answer to her urgent summons, Ackerman came.

“You are sure no one saw you enter?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, but why such caution now? Our work is done, and well done. I congratulate you on the skill with which you did your part.”

“I had nothing to do with it. I’ve sent for you to have the whole thing stopped at once.”

“You had nothing to do with it!” Ackerman exclaimed.

“Absolutely nothing. I repudiate the whole affair.”

“I came here to do this work at your own request,” he protested.

“The arrest of Mr. Graham is an infamous outrage!”

“What!”

“An infamous outrage. I repeat it and demand his immediate release.”

“Why, my dear young woman, it was on the information which you gave that I swore out the warrant for his arrest.”

“It was you who swore out the warrant against him?” Stella fiercely cried. “Oh, I could kill you!”

“You gave me the information.”

“I did nothing of the kind,” she stormed. “It’s false—I deny it!”

“On your statement to me that he had confessed that he was Chief of the Klan, I made the oath on which his warrant was based,” Ackerman maintained with warmth.

“Then you swore a lie!” she hissed. “A lie—a lie!”

Stella fell on the lounge and buried her face in her hands.

Ackerman flushed and was silent. His keen eyes grew suddenly tender. He smiled, rose and stood by her side a moment, and when she looked up extended his hand.

“I’m sorry for you, Miss Stella. I think I understand!”

“Then you will know how to forgive my bitter and unjust words?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you help me?” she asked piteously.

“The situation is extremely delicate for me as it is dangerous for John Graham. The Government is determined to press these cases for conspiracy and murder. Personally I have never believed Graham guilty of the murder of the Judge.”

“Of course he is innocent!”

“I think I know the man who killed your father.”

“And you will help me save John Graham?” she cried.