Coleman’s scheme of publishing the names of the entire committee was carried out after a meeting of the executive committee.  It had the effect of taking the wind out of their opponents’ sails for a time.  But it also robbed committee members of a certain security.  In a dozen dark and devious ways the Vigilantes were harassed, opposed; windows of shops were broken; men returning to their homes were set upon from ambush; long-standing business accounts were diverted or withdrawn.  Even socially the feud was felt.  For the Southerners were more or less the arbiters of society.  Wives of Vigilante members were struck from invitation lists in important affairs.  Whispers came to them that if their husbands were persuaded to withdraw, all would be well.

A few, indeed, did hand their resignations to the committee, but more set their names with eagerness upon its roster.

The hanging of James Stuart was impressive and conducted with extreme decorum.  Stuart, tried before twelve regularly impaneled talesmen and defended by an advocate, cut matters short by a voluntary confession of his crimes.  In fact, he boasted of them with a curious pride.  Arson, murder, robbery, he admitted with a lavishness which first aroused a doubt as to his sanity and truth, but when in many of the cases he recited details which were later verified, all doubt as to his evil triumphs vanished.

On the morning of July 11 he was sentenced.  In the afternoon his body swung from a waterfront derrick at Battery and Market streets.

“Get it over with,” he urged his executioners, “this ’ere’s damned tiresome business for a gentleman.”  He begged a “quid o’ terbacker” from one of the guards and chewed upon it stolidly until the noose tightened about his neck.  He did not struggle much.  A vagrant wind blew off his hat and gently stirred his long and wavy hair.

When Benito next saw Broderick he asked the latter anxiously if all were well with him.  The latter answered with a wry smile, “I suppose so.  I have not been ordered to leave town so far.”

“You’ve remembered what we told you—­Alice and I?”

“Yes,” said Broderick, “and it was good advice.  Tell your wife for me that woman’s intuition sometimes sees more clearly than man’s cunning....  It is nearer God and truth,” he added, softly.

“I shall tell her that.  ’Twill please her,” Benito replied.  “You must come to see us soon.”

Brannan joined them rather anxiously and drew Benito aside with a brusque apology.  “Do you know that Governor McDougall has issued a proclamation condemning the Vigilance Committee?...  I happen to know that Broderick inspired this.”  He gave a covert glance over his shoulder, but the Lieutenant-Governor had wandered off.  “So far he’s taken no part against us.  And we’ve left him alone.  Now we shall strike back.”

“I shall advise against it,” Windham objected.  “Dave is honest.  He’s played fair.”