“Yes, I saw her,” John slowly said with a strange look in his deep-set eyes. “She came up and stayed with me until sunrise.”
The Negro backed cautiously away muttering. “He got ‘em sho!” and darted down the steps. The fact that he was being kept in solitary confinement and refused communication of any kind with friend or counsel, roused every force of John Graham’s character.
When the Attorney General who had come down from Washington called at ten o’clock he greeted him with a laugh through the bars of his door:
“Excuse my lack of hospitality, General Champion,” he said; “I’d offer you a chair, but the hotel is crowded and we’re short of chairs just now.”
“Haven’t you a chair or a bed in your cell?” he enquired, peering in. “It’s an outrage. Bring two chairs here at once!” he thundered to the attendant.
“Mr. Graham,” said the General cordially, “I’ve hastened to you as a friend. I was a member of Congress with your uncle. We were warm personal friends. I’ve known several of your people, and always found them the salt of the earth.”
“Thanks,” John interrupted, a smile playing about the corners of his eyes.
“I wish to be of help to you if you will let me. It has long been known to the Department of Justice that you are the Chief of the Klan in North Carolina.”
“I congratulate the Department of Justice on the attainment of such interesting knowledge,” John broke in.
“Do you deny it?”