Through stained glass

  CHAPTER VI

  That very night Leighton sought out his friend, the chief of police. Hetold him his story from the first creeping fear for his boy to themoment of terrible vengeance.

  "So you killed him, eh?" said the chief, tossing his cigarette from himand thoughtfully lighting another. "Too bad. You ought to have come tome first, my friend, turned him over to us for a beating. It would havecome to the same thing in the end and saved you a world of trouble. Butwhat's done, is done. Now we must think. What do you suggest?"

  Amazement dawned in Leighton's haggard face.

  "What do _I_ suggest?" he answered. "What does the _law_ suggest, sir?Are there no courts and prison-bars In this country for--for----"

  "There, there," interrupted the chief. "As you say, there are courts, ofcourse, gaols, too; but our accommodations for criminals are notsuitable for gentlemen."

  "It is not for me to choose my accommodation, sir. I am here to pay thepenalty of my crime. I have come to be arrested."

  "Arrested?" repeated the chief, staring at Leighton. "Are you not myfriend? Are you not the friend of all of us that count?"

  "But--but----" stammered Leighton.

  "Yes, sir," repeated the chief, "my friend."

  "What do you mean?" cried Leighton. "Do you mean you will leave mypunishment to my conscience--to my God?"

  The chief looked at him quizzically.

  "Your punishment? Why, certainly. To your God, if you like. But let usget down to business. You are nervous. Quite natural. When I was anirresponsible student, I killed a servant for waking me on the morningafter a spree. I remember I was nervous for weeks. Now sit still. Calmyourself. Let me think for you. In fact, while we've been chatting, I_have_ thought for you."

  The chief leaned back in his chair and placed his finger-tips together.

  "Listen. When it becomes necessary, I shall block all roads--all exitsfrom the city--by telegraph. There is one highway--the road into theinterior--without telegraph as yet. We should never think of blockingthat.

  "Now, as to time available. Let us be on the safe side. You must getaway to-morrow. You have horses, a wagon, stable-hands. Have you a tent?I will lend you one--a large bell tent.

  "Now, as to affairs--your property in this town. You will sign papersmaking your friend Lawyer Lima. Rodolpho and me joint trustees. He is mybitterest enemy, and I am his. In this way you can rest assured thatneither of us will rob you."

  Leighton made a deprecating gesture. The chief raised his hand andsmiled.

  "Ah," he said, "do not rob me of that thought. It was a stroke ofgenius. Between us," he continued, "we will advance you all the moneyyou will need for a year. By that time we can send you more." He rose,and held out his hand. "Now, my friend, go, and God go with you!"

  Leighton took the chief's hand.

  "Good-by. I--I thank you."

  "Not at all," said the chief, with a hearty grip. "To-morrow, eh? Getaway to-morrow."

  Leighton walked out and home in a daze. The remembrance of the agony inwhich he had resigned himself to the abandonment of his family, tonotoriety, disgrace, and retribution, clung to him. What had seemed anightmare, with an awakening bound to come, now became a waking dream,more terrible, because no dawn could give it end.

  But the chief had been wise. He had left Leighton no time for disastrousintrospection. Action, work, that sovereign antidote for troubled minds,seized upon him. He told Mrs. Leighton in as few words as possible whathad happened.

  She, too, was dazed by the chief's philosophy of friendship.

  "But, Orme----" she began.

  "I know, I know, Ann," he interrupted. "Only, we haven't time to thinknow, nor time to talk. Call mammy. Remember, we have but the one wagon.Pack carefully."

  He himself hurried off to arouse the stable-hand. The stable-hand hadnot been to Manoel's house. He knew nothing of what had happened. Heworked most of the night cheerfully, preparing for the welcomecamping-trip.

  By noon on the following day, when streets and country roads laydeserted under the tropic sun, the cavalcade was off. The wagon, drawnby two mules in charge of the stable-hand, led the way. It was ladenwith tent, baggage, and the women-folk, Ann, Natalie, and mammy. Behindfollowed Leighton on his favorite horse and Shenton and Lewis on theirponies. By sundown they reached the banks of the Tiete. It took men andboys an hour to set the big bell tent.