He watched her small bent back unhappily for a moment. Her loosened hair swung in long curling strands across the blue of her dressing-gown, she looked young and fresh and tempting. A vein throbbed in his temple. Damn it, she was his wife I How dared she run counter to his wishes! Why shouldn't he seize her by the loose shining hair, force her, subdue her, beat her until she cried for mercy?

She looked up in some surprise when she heard him draw a rasping breath.

' Is there anything more you wished to say to me, Joseph?' Her great dark eyes were questioning, and cold as the winter ocean.

Turning savagely, he flung out of the room.

It was dusk when Theo arrived in Richmond. The air was heavy with thunder. Stifling July heat pressed down upon the town. It was hard to breathe; dust rose thick from the streets, and yet those streets were crowded with people and there seemed a holiday feeling abroad. Through tavern doors came laughter and snatches of song. So numerous were the roisterers at the Eagle Tavern that tables had been placed outside on the pavement, and around them sprawled groups of men, clinking tankards. Spilled beer dribbled into the gutters.

As Theo's carriage passed down Broad Street, the crowd became so dense that the horses could not go forward. Twenty feet ahead of them a group of young people danced back and forth across the cobblestones to the whistled tune of ' Money Musk'. On Theo's right in the Capitol Square she heard the sputter and whish of fireworks.

She pulled her hood down around her face and, leaning from the carriage window, spoke to a man in buckskin breeches who stood upon the curb tapping his foot in time to 'Money Musk.'

' Pardon me, sir. Is there some sort of celebration? Why are there so many people in town?'

The man touched his coonskin cap and laughed. 'Celebration enough, ma'am. We've come from all over Virginny to see the traitor hung.'

The people nearest him caught up the words. 'Hang the traitor!' shrilled a female voice. 'Hang him! Hang him!' Like a diabolic chorus the sinister cries of the mob swirled around her.

She shrank into the depths of the carriage. Panic struck through her, and she shivered in spite of the heat. She huddled into her cloak.

Oh, little Burr's wanted for murder, and little Burr's wanted for treason—

And we'll string him high on the gallows tree, no matter what the reason.

A raucous voice started the couplet to a jigging tune, and at once it was bellowed from a dozen throats.

Panic ebbed as anger gripped Theo. The street was still blocked. Pompey had got out, and was standing by the horses, imploring those nearest him to make way.