kill Judge Kirkstone?"

"I--don't--know," replied Keith slowly, looking steadily into the
other's eyes. "I think so, and yet I am not positive. I went to his
home that night with the determination to wring justice from him or
kill him. I wish you could look at it all with my eyes, Conniston. You
could if you had known my father. You see, my mother died when I was a
little chap, and my father and I grew up together, chums. I don't
believe I ever thought of him as just simply a father. Fathers are
common. He was more than that. From the time I was ten years old we
were inseparable. I guess I was twenty before he told me of the deadly
feud that existed between him and Kirkstone, and it never troubled me
much--because I didn't think anything would ever come of it--until
Kirkstone got him. Then I realized that all through the years the old
rattlesnake had been watching for his chance. It was a frame-up from
beginning to end, and my father stepped into the trap. Even then he
thought that his political enemies, and not Kirkstone, were at the
bottom of it. We soon discovered the truth. My father got ten years. He
was innocent. And the only man on earth who could prove his innocence
was Kirkstone, the man who was gloating like a Shylock over his pound
of flesh. Conniston, if you had known these things and had been in my
shoes, what would you have done?"

Conniston, lighting another taper over the oil flame, hesitated and
answered: "I don't know yet, old chap. What did you do?"

"I fairly got down on my knees to the scoundrel," resumed Keith. "If
ever a man begged for another man's life, I begged for my father's--for
the few words from Kirkstone that would set him free. I offered
everything I had in the world, even my body and soul. God, I'll never