"So I thought I would just come over and cheer you up. There is something mysterious about it all, and the newspapers are devoting much space to it. Oh, I'm so glad to hope that it will be all over tomorrow, and you will be let out of this place, so you can go back home and cut your wheat."

"My wheat?"

"Yes, of course, Jean. You have a fine crop of wheat on all your land."

"I have?"

"Yes, it is so," she reassured him. And then she paused, as something seemed to occur to her. "Because of the fact that you have had several failures you cannot realize that you have actually raised a crop, a big crop, better than any crop since--since." She stopped short, and he understood and suppressed a sigh. When he looked up, she was moving down the hallway, her mind filled with something she had almost forgotten during the past two days.

He knew of it. She had been given quite a write-up in the social columns of a Chicago paper and many lovers of her musical hit, were, unknown to her, curious with regard to her coming marriage.

The detective Agnes had retained, called on Baptiste's lawyers and held a lengthy consultation. When he left them, an understanding had been reached with regard to the hearing, and silence was agreed upon.

At the magistrate's office the following morning, the court room was crowded. Scores were turned away, and all the family had been subpoenaed.

Glavis was first called, and related what he knew, which has already been related. Next came Mrs. McCarthy who knew even less. She was followed by Ethel, and the detective and two lawyers questioned her closely.

"Now, you say you heard your sister scream," said the lawyer after the usual formalities had passed. "Will you kindly state to the court just what you overheard and know regarding this affair?"

She glared at him, and then her eyes met those of Baptiste, and she glared again. She told a varied story of the case, and made it very brief.

"You say, madame, that after you heard your sister scream you rushed from your room and to where she was?"

"Yes," she answered, and those near noticed the sulkiness.

"And when you arrived you found her dead near the door, while your father lay murdered in the bed?"

"Yes."

"Do you recall, Mrs. Glavis, whether she screamed long, or whether it was brief?"

She hesitated, somewhat confused. Presently, she stiffened and said: "It was long."

"Did it last until after you had left your bed?"

"It did."

"Until you had left the room you were in?"

"Yes."

"In fact she was screaming still when you arrived at the door of the room, no doubt?" the lawyer's tone was very careless, just as though he were not in the least serious. Her reply was prompt.

"Yes."

"Now Mrs. Glavis, do you recall having ever heard your sister scream before in a like manner?"

She started perceptibly. Her eyes widened, as if she were recalling an incident. Suddenly she became oblivious of her present surroundings, and conscious of a night two years before.... When she resumed her testimony, she was seen to be weaker.

"No," she said bravely.

Now it so happened that the attorneys for the defense had consulted with a chemist, who was in the court room by request. At this juncture he was called to the stand. He was asked a number of questions, and then Ethel was again placed on the stand.

"Now, madame, the court has decided to investigate this matter thoroughly. You are positive Jean Baptiste, here, killed your sister, also your father? You remember, of course, in giving your testimony, _that we are going to investigate the case and prosecute for perjury_!"

She had been seen to raise her handkerchief to her eyes with the first announcement regarding the investigation. Now she uttered a loud cry as the tears flowed unchecked. Suddenly she dropped her handkerchief, and with her arms stretched forward, she screamed:

"_No, no! Orlean, Orlean! Oh, my God, Orlean!_" And in the next instant she would have fallen in a dead faint had those near not caught her. For this is how it happened.

When the family returned from the court house, Orlean had retired at once, complaining of a headache. Since she had very often since her father brought her home complained of such, no particular attention had been paid it. She stayed in bed until late in the afternoon. In the meantime her father went over to the west side, presumably to call on Mrs. Pruitt. It was late when he returned, about eleven o'clock, that night.

Orlean retired again about ten, and had fallen into a troubled sleep.

She felt the same as she did the night she had returned from Mrs.

Merley's, and she could not account for the strange nausea that lingered over her.

When N.J. McCarthy returned, he went to the kitchen for a drink of water, after which, he must return through the room in which his daughter, Orlean, lay sleeping. As he had done on that occasion two years before, he had paused at the foot of the bed to observe his sleeping daughter. How long he stood thus, he never knew, but after a time he became conscious of that strange sensation that had come over him on the memorable night before. He tried to throw off the uncanny feeling, but it seemed to hang on like grim death. And as he stood enmeshed in its sinister thraldom, he thought he again saw her rise and point an accusing finger at him. Out of it all he was sure he heard again her voice in all its agony as it had spoken that other night. But tonight the accusation was more severe.

[Illustration: From a painting by W.M. Farrow.

HE TRIED TO THROW OFF THE UNCANNY FEELING, BUT IT SEEMED TO HANG ON LIKE GRIM DEATH. AND AS HE STOOD ENMESHED IN ITS SINISTER THRALDOM, HE THOUGHT HE SAW HER RISE AND POINT AN ACCUSING FINGER AT HIM.]

"_There you are again, my betrayer_," she said coldly. "_Today you completed your nefarious task; you completed the evil that began more than thirty years ago, oh, debaser of women! Where is Speed, and the wife of his you ruined? Where? In hell and its tortures did you say?

Yes, and where are my brothers? Oh, don't tremble, for you should know!

No, you made me pretend to feel that you had not committed that sin, and other sins, also. But I knew--yes, I knew! You never told me I had brothers. You said foolish things to deceive me and the mother of mine.

You called me by a boy's name, Jim, and pretended, because you did not recognize your illegitimate off-spring, that there were none. And then came Jean. Oh, you had him at a disadvantage always! When he was a little boy, you started your evil, and twenty years later you renewed it. Why, oh, you vain sinner, you know! He married me--perhaps he didn't love me then as he might have--as he would have had I tried to be the woman he wished me to be. But you took advantage of the weakness that was in me by the heritage of my mother, and you made me subservient unto your evil will!_

"_Well, it's all over now, and from this day henceforth you will never see peace. The evil and misery you have brought unto others, shall now be cast upon you. You are my father, and the creator of my weakness, but you have taken my husband and soul mate, and made a new generation impossible for me to lead. And now I say unto you, go forth and repent.

Begone from me. For from this day evermore though in weak flesh I may pretend to love you, know that I must hate you!_"

He shook himself, and succeeded in casting off the depression. When he looked again, Orlean was sitting up in bed, regarding him sleepily. He started, and wondered whether what had passed was real, but in the next moment he was relieved.

"Papa," she said in her usual, but sleepy-like voice, "Is that you?"

"Yes, daughter," he replied quickly, and as if to still the excitement in his heart, he passed quickly around to where she reposed, and planted a kiss upon her lips, and turning, hurried upstairs.

She sat upright for some minutes after he had gone, and became conscious of that singular feeling that she had felt all the day, still lingering over her. As she sat there, she heard the little clock on the table beside her mother strike 11:30. She lay down again, and a few minutes later she was asleep.

The Reverend retired quickly and wished he could sleep and forget what he thought he had seen and heard. He was successful, and soon he was snoring. He could not understand upon being awakened slowly how long he had slept, but he became conscious that the light was burning brightly.

He turned on his back, and when he could see clearly, his eyes fell upon Orlean.

She stood between him and the door, and he regarded her with a puzzled expression. Presently his eyes met hers, and he started up. _What was the matter with her?_ Her eyes were like coals of burning fire; her stiff, bushy hair, was unbraided and stood _away from her head giving her the appearance of a savage. But it was the expression of her eyes that disturbed him._ He was held in a thraldom of fear as she slowly advanced toward the bed.

"Orlean," he at last managed to say. "What is the--"

"_I have come at last to right a wrong_," she began in an uncanny voice.

Never had he seen her appear like that before, nor heard her speak in such a voice. She paused when she was beside the bed, and stood looking down upon him in that demented fashion. The cold perspiration broke out all over him, and he trembled.

"_Oh, you told me my husband did not love me. While he worked to make us comfortable and happy out there on the claim you sat beside my sick bed and told me lies. While he grieved over the loss of our little one, you conceived a vile plot to 'get even,' Oh, you--liar! You sunk his soul into hell for spite. And then today--yesterday you reached your climax by having me go on the stand and testify to a greater lie! To save your wretched soul from disgrace, I swore to the most miserable lie a woman could tell! And now that you have made him suffer unjustly, and spoiled all life held for me, the judgment of God is upon you. The God that you have lied to and made a laughing idol of seeks restitution! So you sinner of all the sins, vengeance is mine, I will repay!_"