"Yes, I have," John slowly said, "for two reasons. As the organiser of the original Ku Klux Klan in this state I hold myself in a measure responsible for its existence even in its lowest forms. But that's not wall, my boy, you're my brother, and I love you."
Billy's eyes blinked and he looked at the ceiling. He had never heard such an expression from John's lips before.
"I wish I'd slipped my arm around you and told you that long ago. I've always been proud of your high-strung, sensitive spirit, proud in my own heart that we were of the same blood, and I want to ask you to forgive me for seeing so little of you and being of so little help to you."
A sob caught the boy's breath.
"You'll let me help you now?" John asked tenderly, extending his hand.
Billy rose trembling, his eyes running over with tears, took a step toward the door, turned and threw himself into John's arms, sobbing bitterly.
The older brother held him close for a moment in silence, and slowly said at last:
"Now tell me."
"I was at Judge Butler's that night!"
John sank to a chair with a groan.
"My God! I knew it!"
"But, of course, you know that I had nothing
