“How would you explain it?” he asked, struggling to remain calm.

“That Cramer fellow,” Joey said. “I think he must have put her up to it, to get rid of me. This way he thinks he’ll get rid of the others.”

“But why would she go along with such a thing?”

“I couldn’t tell you that, Mr. Paton. I don’t know. She seemed to me to be a nice girl.”

“She is a nice girl.”

“Show your face, nigger-lover!”

“Cigarette?”

Joey’s hands trembled badly, but he accepted the cigarette. It tasted good, it helped.

“It’s a bad situation,” Harley Paton said. “Even though she asked you to help, you should have had better sense.”

“I know it. But I thought being Mr. McDaniel’s daughter, and Mr. McDaniel doing what he did for us—”

The crowd was suddenly quiet.

A single clear voice rang out: “Paton, you better show your face!”

Harley Paton said, “Excuse me,” and walked to the window and raised it.

He looked down on the crowd, and saw that Adam Cramer was at its head.

“What do you want?”

“You know what we want. We want the nigger that raped a white girl in your school.”

“I would advise you people—”

“We’re not interested in your advice, Paton! We’re only interested in one thing—justice! You have exactly five minutes. If that nigger isn’t out here by then, we’re coming in to get him!” Adam Cramer turned his head toward the crowd and shouted, “Is that right?”

The answer came in an explosion of voices.

“Five minutes, Paton!”

The principal closed the window again and went to the reception area. Spivak and Crandall were gone. The door was unlocked. He locked it again and returned to his office.

“The sheriff will stop them,” he said.

Joey nodded. His white shirt was stained with perspiration. “Yes, sir,” he said.

Paton glanced out the window again, but there were no police visible.

“Of course,” he said, almost under his breath, “Cramer found himself in the spot all self-styled dictators find themselves in sooner or later. He started the thing, but it got away from him. He couldn’t hold it. And when it began to go wrong, he got panicky. Did you see the article on him?”

“No, but I heard about it.”

“Interesting stuff, Joey. We must talk about it sometime. Interesting. He surely knew that his past life would have to catch up with him someday. But knowing this, why would he start such a project?” Paton kept talking, quickly, but he also kept glancing at the window.

Outside, the people stood quietly, like an army at rest.

“Four minutes, Paton!”

Joey looked at his hands; then he wiped them on his trousers and stood up, feeling the sick dizziness of fear but knowing that it couldn’t count now.

“You’re on our side, aren’t you?” he said.

Harley Paton said, “Yes, Joey, I am.”