Again the ranks parted and closed, this time to admit of three carriages.  As they came to a stop, the muskets all around the square leaped to “present arms!” From the carriages descended Coleman, Truett, and several others.  In dead silence they walked to the jail door, Olney’s men close at their heels.  For some moments they spoke through the wicket; then the door swung open and the Committee entered.

Up to this moment Casey had been fully content with the situation.  He was, of course, treated to the best the jail or the city could afford.  It was a bother to have been forced to shoot James King of William; but the nuisance of incarceration for a time was a small price to pay.  His friends had rallied well to his defense.  He had no doubt whatever, that, according to the usual custom, he would soon work his way through the courts and stand again a free man.  His first intimation of trouble was the hearing of the resonant tramp of feet outside.  His second was when Sheriff Scannell stood before him with the Vigilantes’ note in his hand.  Casey took one glance at Scannell’s face.

“You aren’t going to betray me?” he cried.  “You aren’t going to give me up?”

“James,” replied Scannell solemnly, “there are three thousand armed men coming for you and I have not thirty supporters around the jail.”

“Not thirty!” cried Casey astonished.  For a moment he appeared crushed; then he leaped to his feet flourishing a long knife.  “I’ll not be taken from this place alive!” he cried.  “Where are all you brave fellows who were going to see me through this?”

At this moment Coleman knocked at the door of the jail.  The sheriff hurried away to answer the summons.

Casey took the opportunity to write a note for the Vigilantes which he gave to the marshal.  It read: 

“To the Vigilante Committee.  GENTLEMEN:—­I am willing to go before you if you will let me speak but ten minutes.  I do not wish to have the blood of any man upon my head.”

On entering the jail door Coleman and his companions bowed formally to the sheriff.

“We have come for the prisoner Casey,” said Coleman.  “We ask that he be peaceably delivered us handcuffed at the door immediately.”

“Under existing circumstances,” replied Scannell, “I shall make no resistance.  The prison and its contents are yours.”

But Truett would have none of this.  “We want only the man Casey at present,” he said.  “For the safety of all the rest we hold you strictly accountable.”

They proceeded at once to Casey’s cell.  The murderer heard them coming and sprang back from the door holding his long knife poised.  Coleman walked directly to the door, where he stopped, looking Casey in the eye.  At the end of a full minute he exclaimed sharply: 

“Lay down that knife!”

As though the unexpected tones had broken a spell, Casey flung the knife from him and buried his face in his hands.  Then, and not until then, Coleman informed him curtly that his request would be granted.