"I've been sick in bed. Haven't left the house," was the nervous reply.
"Well, it's time you knew at least what is going on in the house."
The Judge shivered and glanced up into the galleries.
"What do you mean?" he feebly asked.
Larkin rapidly sketched to him the events which had thrown the town into a ferment.
"But what I called for," observed the Carpetbagger, "was to enquire, as your political adviser, whether you really intend to permit your daughter to receive here to-night this gang of masked cutthroats as your guests?"
The Judge rose trembling.
"My daughter receive the Ku Klux Klan here to-night?" he gasped.
"She has invited them, and in spite of the excitement it is rumoured that they will promptly appear in full costume at ten o'clock."
"Impossible, Larkin, impossible! They won't dare such a thing. Besides, of course, my daughter will stop it."
"How can she stop it? Her invitation was by their sign of the scarlet bow. They have devised no signal to stop such a festival."
"She must find a way at once," cried the Judge excitedly, "otherwise we must wire for troops."
