Dr. Tansey and Professor Armstrong had just seated themselves when they noticed, coming from the courthouse, Louise Comstock.
"I've seen that young woman somewhere but can't place her," said Dr. Tansey.
"Yes, I recognize her too—I've met her somewhere—I don't know where."
Louise inclined her head slightly as she passed them, remembering that they were in the courthouse when she made her plea. As she bowed, both men raised their hats and Dr. Tansey approached.
"Pardon me. I seem to have met you somewhere but can't say where. It was good of you to defend that poor creature today."
Louise extended her hand. "I know you. You're Dr. Tansey—at the college—and this is Professor Armstrong. I also know you. I've seen you many times while I was at Miss Gregory's school. Being but a school girl, you paid no attention to me."
"Oh, you're one of Miss Gregory's girls, are you? I was quite sure I knew you.—You're a long way from home, though, I may say.—You're not a southern girl," Professor Armstrong observed.
"My people are from the south originally but I was born North and have lived there all my life. I came South to study conditions a little this summer and was preparing to visit a friend of mine, Miss Lida Lauriston."
Both men looked at each other but said nothing. For the time they had forgotten the existence of Lida or Bennet.
"I think I'll cut my visit very short and leave for the North tonight. I'm sick of the place. It's hot—stifling hot, and the people are so different. Conditions are so different. I'm going to protect that girl—take her with me."
"You should not allow yourself to become bothered by such things, Miss Comstock," suggested Professor Armstrong. "They're ordinary and common down here. In fact, so common that we take them as a matter of course and turn our minds to more serious things. I wouldn't let that bother me."
"Well, it does," she asserted. "I've changed my mind on a lot of things since I came South. I know a lot I never knew till now and I'm disgusted. That was a horrid thing for that man to do.—And to think the judge let him off with a fine after almost condoning the offense."
"It's a common occurrence," offered Professor Armstrong. "I admit, though, that this case comes pretty near home to me. I know the girl and her family."
"And you permit such a thing. I'm both ashamed and surprised. Where's the white womanhood of the South that it tolerates such things. I heard the whole sordid affair. I was in an adjoining room when the girl came to gather laundry for her mother.
"You should have heard her pleading with that brute." Miss Comstock's eyes filled with tears. "It was enough to melt a heart of stone. He threatened her with setting the mob on her for assaulting him; threatened to have her father hung and finally used force. I didn't realize what was happening till he had gone and left the girl crying. I went to her and found her in a pitiable heap. It was I who insisted on arrest. But what good did it do? They lynch colored men for far less than that."
Both men hung their heads in silence as she passed into the hotel and to her room, her eyes still filled and overflowing with tears. The street had entirely regained its serenity now and the sun was high in the heavens. Dr. Tansey was the first to break silence.
"Let's have luncheon," he said. Professor Armstrong was agreeable and the two men passed into the dining room. Following the meal each passed to his room for a nap, as is the custom in the South during the heated portion of the summer days, at least for those who have the leisure. It was late in the afternoon when Professor Armstrong, freshened from his sleep and a bath, knocked on Dr. Tansey's door.
"Awake, Doctor?" he asked.
"Yes, come in," the Doctor invited.
"Hope you're rested."
"Feeling fine."
"Doctor," began Professor Armstrong. "I've been thinking over things since I left you and believe I'm beginning to see them differently. This affair of Ione Felding's this morning came pretty close home to me. Man, I've known that family ever since I could toddle. Her older sister, who's married is just about my age.—Ione is younger."
"She certainly was a pathetic bit of humanity, there in the court room this morning."
"Yes, she was, and the way those eyes of hers appealed to me in their dumb brown helplessness when she saw me! I tell you, Man, I'll never forget them. Trafford didn't get half what he deserved from that fellow."
"What can you do about it now?"
"There's nothing to be done about it now. But I'm beginning to believe that conditions that permit such things with such ease are not right."
"Keep on. That's Old Man Conscience working on you. Follow him and he'll set you right too."
"No, I think it's the personal interest I have in the girl."
"Old Man Conscience, just the same," Dr. Tansey shook his head sadly. "He won't let you rest nor will he let the American people rest till right is right and justice and fairness obtain for all.—Now you can understand why men battle for right. Once get Old Man Conscience to work and give him any sort of free play then any question is safely solved."
The sun was now hanging far over in the western sky and evening approaching. From the window of the room in which the two men sat could be seen the tall cold angular stone and masonry jail, across the other house tops, with its iron-barred windows standing out in bold relief, cutting a vivid outline in the otherwise crimsoning sky. Dr. Tansey looked from the window to the jail. The eyes of Professor Armstrong followed his.
"And to think," continued the latter, "That poor fellow cooped up somewhere in there for trying to protect his own."
"Keep on, keep on, Conscience—you're gaining," thought Dr. Tansey, though he made no comment.
Before he could frame any satisfactory comment a bellboy rapped on the door and reached in with the afternoon papers. Dr. Tansey took one in a casual manner, offering another to Professor Armstrong.
"What an infernal lie!" exclaimed Dr. Tansey. "What a hellish, fiendish lie!"
Professor Armstrong looked from his paper to the face of the Doctor, waiting for explanation. Dr. Tansey held the paper he was reading toward his friend.
"Look at that.—Look at that!"
Professor Armstrong glanced at the publication held before him. In glaring head lines letters fully six inches deep, fairly screamed the words:
"White girl assaulted
Negro under arrest
Riot narrowly averted on Main Street
Shortly before noon by arrest of man charged with Crime
Threats of lynching followed
White Populace in angry mood may seize jail at Sundown,
Talk, burn prisoner and entire Negro section heard."
Then followed a harrowing story purporting to tell of the assault. Dr. Tansey began reading the narrative indignantly.
"One of the most brutal and dastardly assaults ever committed occurred shortly before noon today when a burly Negro assaulted a white girl on Main Street. The assault was witnessed by hundreds of people on the street at the time and was considered the most daring outrage of the kind in the history of the city.
"The girl, according to bystanders, was walking along the street when the burly brute, much the worse for drink, sauntered up to her and insolently demanded that she accompany him. Upon her indignant refusal, the Negro is said to have seized her forcibly and when she resisted with all her might, is said to have struck her a stunning blow in the face. She screamed and a dozen white men rushed to her aid. The Negro leaped nimbly over the courthouse fence and was making good his escape when two police officers captured him.
"The crowd following sought to lay their hands on the brute but the officers managed to enter the courthouse and take the brute to jail by way of the underground passageway by which prisoners are brought to court. For a time rioting was imminent and several innocent Negroes were attacked in revenge. A squad of police soon arrived, however, and dispersed the crowd.
"Since noontime, however, all Orangeburg citizens have been aroused and plans are being made to demand the prisoner from the authorities. There are also muttered threats that the entire Negro section will be wiped out tonight. The police are to double their guard about the jail since they have been warned of what is being planned. They claim to have the situation well in hand. All Negroes are warned to keep within doors and to be meek, and are warned not to be caught on the street with firearms. Effort is being made to disarm all suspicious blacks."
"Now, what do you think of that?" exclaimed Dr. Tansey. "Of all outrages! There's a case of inciting to riot, if ever there was one. And they call that journalism. Telling a damnable lie, then feeding the fires of hatred and outlining mob action. All for the sake of selling more papers. The presses ought to be torn down.—America, when will you be right?"
Professor Armstrong was studying the story and picturing what might follow.
"Yes," he admitted. That's certainly sowing the dragon's teeth, all right—sowing them with a vengeance too. Newspapers are great teachers but they are also to blame for much of the wrong in this country. They certainly shape mob psychology."
"Anything's likely to happen now," exclaimed Dr. Tansey. "But to think how unjust is the story. How utterly reversed are the facts.—And who has sought to get facts? Not even the newspaper. Armstrong, I don't see how your colored population endures down here. I don't see why they don't all pack up and leave you flat."
"Oh, they know they have friends down here," was Professor Armstrong's reply. "There are some white men down here still who stand for right and will fight for it in defense of their blacks. The better class whites don't read a paper like this and they don't approve of the wrongs done to black people. They'll arise and assert themselves sometime. Give them time.—Give them time."
"Meanwhile all manner of hell's to pay, eh? If there starts a riot tonight where will your better class whites be? Safe in their homes. If a Negro is caught armed, he'll be shot down. White rioters will be given every freedom for sway of their bestiality, however. They will be able to shoot down Negroes with impunity."
"Oh, don't be so hard on us, Old Man. We're not all bad."
"That's true, Armstrong. Pardon me. I forgot. Let's go down to the piazza. Perhaps I exaggerate."
Suiting action to words the two men descended. The piazza was crowded. Twilight was fast coming on, and here and there a star began twinkling in the red gold sky. Along the streets preparations were being made to light lamps, while Negro workers, were hurrying to their homes, anxious, worried looks on their faces, fear in their hearts. They had been warned by the police and were eagerly heeding the warning. There was an ominous silence enveloping the city. Hotel guests as well as others seemed to sense it. Few words were being spoken and these in undertones from neighbor to neighbor. Everyone was restless, the very air was depressing and mysteriously heavy.