Cloudy scarcely waited to hear this benediction, but hurried to the stables, found and saddled his horse, threw himself into the stirrups, and in five minutes was dashing rapidly through the thick, low-lying forest stretching inland from the coast.

Eight hours of hard riding brought him to the county seat.

Just stopping long enough to have his horse put up at the best hotel and to inquire his way to the prison, he hurried thither.

It was nearly nine o’clock, and the street corners were thronged with loungers conversing in low, eager tones upon the present all-absorbing topic of discourse—­the astounding event of the arrest of the great preacher, the Rev. Thurston Willcoxen, upon the charge of murder.

Hurrying past all these, Cloudy reached the jail.  He readily gained admittance, and was conducted to the cell of the prisoner.  He found Thurston attired as when he left home, sitting at a small wooden stand, and calmly occupied with his pen.

He arose, and smilingly extended his hand, saying: 

“This is very kind as well as very prompt, Cloudy.  You must have ridden fast.”

“I did.  Leave us alone, if you please, my friend,” said Cloudy, turning to the jailor.

The latter went out and locked the door upon the friends.

“This seems a sad event to greet you on your return home.  Cloudy; but never mind, it will all be well!”

“Sad?  It’s a farce!  I have not an instant’s misgiving about the result; but the present indignity!  Oh! oh!  I could—­”

“Be calm, my dear Cloudy.  Have you heard anything of the circumstances that led to this?”

“Yes!  Paul told me; but he is as crazy and incoherent as a Bedlamite!  I want you, if you please, Thurston, if you have no objection, to go over the whole story for me, that I may see if I can make anything of it for your defense.”

“Poor Paul! he takes this matter far too deeply to heart.  Sit down.  I have not a second chair to offer, but take this or the foot of the cot, as you prefer.”

Cloudy took the foot of the cot.

“Certainly, Cloudy, I will tell you everything,” said Thurston, and forthwith commenced his explanation.

Thurston’s narrative was clear and to the point.  When it was finished Cloudy asked a number of questions, chiefly referring to the day of the tragedy.  When these were answered he sat with his brows gathered down in astute thought.  Presently he asked: 

“Thurston, have you engaged counsel?”

“Yes; Mr. Romford has been with me this morning.”

“Is he fully competent?”

“The best lawyer in the State.”

“When does the court sit?”

“On Monday week.”

“Have you any idea whether your trial will come on early in the session?”

“I presume it will come on very soon, as Mr. Romford informs me there are but few cases on the docket.”