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diff --git a/40398-8.txt b/40398-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e4889dd..0000000 --- a/40398-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19752 +0,0 @@ - THE TURN OF THE BALANCE - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: The Turn of the Balance -Author: Brand Whitlock -Release Date: February 19, 2013 [EBook #40398] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURN OF THE BALANCE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - -[Illustration: Gordon Marriott Page 38] - - - - - THE TURN OF THE BALANCE - - - By - - BRAND WHITLOCK - - - - Author of The Happy Average - Her Infinite Variety - The 13th District - - - - With Illustrations by - JAY HAMBIDGE - - - - INDIANAPOLIS - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1907 - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - - MARCH - - - - - TO THE MEMORY OF - SAMUEL M. JONES - Died July 12, 1904 - - - - -On the other hand, a boy was bound to defend them against anything that -he thought slighting or insulting; and you did not have to verify the -fact that anything had been said or done; you merely had to hear that it -had. It once fell to my boy to avenge such a reported wrong from a boy -who had not many friends in school, a timid creature whom the mere -accusation frightened half out of his wits, and who wildly protested his -innocence. He ran, and my boy followed with the other boys after him, -till they overtook the culprit and brought him to bay against a high -board fence; and there my boy struck him in his imploring face. He -tried to feel like a righteous champion, but he felt like a brutal -ruffian. He long had the sight of that terrified, weeping face, and -with shame and sickness of heart he cowered before it. It was pretty -nearly the last of his fighting; and though he came off victor, he felt -that he would rather be beaten himself than do another such act of -justice. In fact, it seems best to be very careful how we try to do -justice in this world, and mostly to leave retribution of all kinds to -God, who really knows about things; and content ourselves as much as -possible with mercy, whose mistakes are not so irreparable. - -_From_ "A BOY'S TOWN" - _By_ WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS - - - - - THE TURN OF THE BALANCE - - - - BOOK I - - - - THE TURN OF THE BALANCE - - - I - - -As Elizabeth Ward stood that morning before the wide hearth in the -dining-room, she was glad that she still could find, in this first snow -of the season, the simple wonder and delight of that childhood she had -left not so very far behind. Her last glimpse of the world the night -before had been of trees lashed by a cold rain, of arc-lamps with globes -of fog, of wet asphalt pavements reflecting the lights of Claybourne -Avenue. But now, everywhere, there was snow, heaped in exquisite drifts -about the trees, and clinging in soft masses to the rough bark of their -trunks. The iron fence about the great yard was half buried in it, the -houses along the avenue seemed far away and strange in the white -transfiguration, and the roofs lost their familiar outlines against the -low gray sky that hung over them. - -"Hurry, Gusta!" said Elizabeth. "This is splendid! I must go right -out!" - -The maid who was laying the breakfast smiled; "It was a regular -blizzard, Miss Elizabeth." - -"Was it?" Elizabeth lifted her skirt a little, and rested the toe of -her slipper on the low brass fender. The wood was crackling cheerfully. -"Has mama gone out?" - -"Oh, yes, Miss Elizabeth, an hour ago." - -"Of course," Elizabeth said, glancing at the little clock on the -mantelpiece, ticking in its refined way. Its hands pointed to half-past -ten. "I quite forgot the dinner." Her brow clouded. "What a bore!" -she thought. Then she said aloud: "Didn't mama leave any word?" - -"She said not to disturb you, Miss Elizabeth." - -Gusta had served the breakfast, and now, surveying her work with an -expression of pleasure, poured the coffee. - -Beside Elizabeth's plate lay the mail and a morning newspaper. The -newspaper had evidently been read at some earlier breakfast, and because -it was rumpled Elizabeth pushed it aside. She read her letters while -she ate her breakfast, and then, when she laid her napkin aside, she -looked out of the windows again. - -"I must go out for a long walk," she said, speaking as much to herself -as to the maid, though not in the same eager tone she had found for her -resolution a while before. "It must have snowed very hard. It wasn't -snowing when I came home." - -"It began at midnight, Miss Elizabeth," said Gusta, "and it snowed so -hard I had an awful time getting here this morning. I could hardly find -my way, it fell so thick and fast." - -Elizabeth did not reply, and Gusta went on: "I stayed home last -night--my brother just got back yesterday; I stayed to see him." - -"Your brother?" - -"Yes; Archie. He's been in the army. He got home yesterday from the -Phil'pines." - -"How interesting!" said Elizabeth indifferently. - -"Yes, he's been there three years; his time was out and he came home. -Oh, you should see him, Miss Elizabeth. He looks so fine!" - -"Does he look as fine as you, Gusta?" - -Elizabeth smiled affectionately, and Gusta's fair German skin flushed to -her yellow hair. - -"Now, Miss Elizabeth," she said in an embarrassment that could not hide -her pleasure, "Archie's really handsome--he put on his soldier clothes -and let us see him. He's a fine soldier, Miss Elizabeth. He was the -best shooter in his regiment; he has a medal. He said it was a -sharp-shooter's medal." - -"Oh, indeed!" said Elizabeth, her already slight interest flagging. -"Then he must be a fine shot." - -Though Elizabeth in a flash of imagination had the scene in Gusta's home -the night before--the brother displaying himself in his uniform, his old -German father and mother glowing with pride, the children gathered -around in awe and wonder--she was really thinking of the snow, and -speculating as to what new pleasure it would bring, and with this she -rose from the table and went into the drawing-room. There she stood in -the deep window a moment, and looked out. The Maceys' man, clearing the -walk over the way, had paused in his labor to lean with a discouraged -air on his wooden shovel. A man was trudging by, his coat collar turned -up, his shoulders hunched disconsolately, the snow clinging tenaciously -to his feet as he plowed his way along. At the sight, Elizabeth -shrugged her shoulders, gave a little sympathetic shiver, turned from -her contemplation of the avenue that stretched away white and still, and -went to the library. Here she got down a book and curled herself up on -a divan near the fireplace. Far away she heard the tinkle of some -solitary sleigh-bell. - -When the maid came into the adjoining room a few moments later, -Elizabeth said: "Gusta, please hand me that box of candy." - -Elizabeth arranged herself in still greater comfort, put a bit of the -chocolate in her mouth, and opened her book. "Gusta, you're a comfort," -she said. "Catch me going out on a day like this!" - - -Mrs. Ward came home at noon, and when she learned that Elizabeth had -spent the morning in the library, she took on an air of such superiority -as was justified only in one who had not allowed even a blizzard to -interfere with the serious duties of life. She had learned several new -signals at the whist club and, as she told Elizabeth with a reproach for -her neglect of the game, she had mastered at last Elwood's new system. -But Elizabeth, when she had had her luncheon, returned to the library -and her book. She stayed there an hour, then suddenly startled her -mother by flinging the volume to the floor in disgust and running from -the room and up the stairs. She came down presently dressed for the -street. - -"Don't be put long, dear; remember the dinner," Mrs. Ward called after -her. - -As she turned in between the high banks of snow piled along either side -of the walk, Elizabeth felt the fine quality of the air that sparkled -with a cold vitality, as pure as the snow that seemed to exhale it. She -tossed her head as if to rid it of all the disordered fancies she had -gathered in the unreal world of the romance with which she had spent the -day. Then for the first time she realized how gigantic the storm had -been. Long processions of men armed with shovels, happy in the temporary -prosperity this chance for work had brought, had cleared the sidewalks. -On the avenue the snow had been beaten into a hard yellow track by the -horses and sleighs that coursed so gaily over it. The cross-town -trolley-cars glided along between the windrows of the snow the big plow -had whirled from the tracks. Little children, in bright caps and -leggings, were playing in the yards, testing new sleds, tumbling about -in the white drifts, flinging snowballs at one another, their laughter -and screams harmonizing with the bells. Claybourne Avenue was alive; -the solitary bell that Elizabeth had heard jingling in the still air -that morning had been joined by countless strings of other bells, until -now the air vibrated with their musical clamor. Great Russian sledges -with scarlet plumes shaking at their high-curved dashboards swept by, -and the cutters sped along in their impromptu races, the happy faces of -their occupants ruddy in their furs, the bells on the excited horses -chiming in the keen air. At the corner of Twenty-fifth Street, a park -policeman, sitting his magnificent bay horse, reviewed the swiftly -passing parade. The pedestrians along the sidewalk shouted the racers -on; as the cutters, side by side, rose and fell over the street-crossing -a party of school-boys assailed them with a shower of snowballs. - -Elizabeth knew many of the people in the passing sleighs; she knew all -of those in the more imposing turnouts. She bowed to her acquaintances -with a smile that came from the exhilaration of the sharp winter air, -more than from any joy she had in the recognition. But from one of the -cutters Gordon Marriott waved his whip at her, and she returned his -salute with a little shake of her big muff. Her gray eyes sparkled and -her cheeks against her furs were pink. Every one was nervously exalted -by the snow-storm that afternoon, and Elizabeth, full of health and -youthful spirit, tingled with the joy the snow seemed to have brought to -the world. - - - - - II - - -His house was all illumined; the light streaming from its windows -glistened on the polished crust of the frozen snow, and as Stephen Ward -drove up that evening, he sighed, remembering the dinner. He sprang -out, slammed the door of his brougham and dashed indoors, the wheels of -his retreating carriage giving out again their frosty falsetto. The -breath of cold air Ward inhaled as he ran into the house was grateful to -him, and he would have liked more of it; it would have refreshed and -calmed him after his hard day on the Board. - -As he entered the wide hall, Elizabeth was just descending the stairs. -She came fresh from her toilet, clothed in a dinner gown of white, her -round arms bare to the elbow, her young throat just revealed, her dark -hair done low on her neck, and the smile that lighted her gray eyes -pleased Ward. - -As she went for her father's kiss Elizabeth noted the cool outdoor -atmosphere, and the odor of cigar smoke and Russia leather that always -hung about his person. - -"You are refreshing!" she said. "The frost clings to you." - -He smiled as she helped him with his overcoat, and then he backed up to -the great fire, and stood there shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his -hands in the warmth. His face was fresh and ruddy, his white hair was -rumpled, his stubbed mustache, which ordinarily gave an effect of saving -his youth in his middle years, seemed to bristle aggressively, and his -eyes still burned from the excitement of the day. - -"What have you been doing all day?" Elizabeth asked, standing before -him, her hands on his shoulders. "Battling hard for life in the wheat -pit?" Her eyes sparkled with good humor. - -Ward took Elizabeth's face between his palms as he said jubilantly: - -"No, but I've been making old Macey battle for his life--and I've won." - -His gray eyes flashed with the sense of victory, he drew himself erect, -tilted back on his heels. He did not often speak of his business -affairs at home, and when he did, no one understood him. During the -weeks indeed, in which the soft moist weather and constant rains had -prevented the rise in the wheat market on which he had so confidently -gambled, he had resolutely and unselfishly kept his fear and his -suspense to himself, and now even though at last he could indulge his -exultation, he drew a long, deep breath. - -"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "The snow came just in the nick of time for -me!" - -"Well, you march right up-stairs and get your clothes on," said -Elizabeth as she took her father by the arm, gathering up the train of -her white gown, heavy with its sequins and gracefully impeding her -progress, and led him to the stairs. She smiled up into his face as she -did so, and, as he turned the corner of the wide staircase, he bent and -kissed her again. - -Though the guests whom Mrs. Ward had asked to her dinner that night all -came in closed carriages, bundled in warm and elegant furs, and though -they stepped from their own doors into their carriages and then alighted -from them at the door of the Wards', they all, when they arrived, talked -excitedly of the storm and adjured one another to confess that they had -never known such cold. The women, who came down from the dressing-room -in bare arms and bare shoulders, seemed to think less of the cold than -the men, who were, doubtless, not so inured to exposure; but they were -more excited over it and looked on the phenomenon in its romantic light, -and began to celebrate the poetic aspects of the winter scene. But the -men laughed at this. - -"There isn't much poetry about it down town," said Dick Ward. "No poet -would have called that snow beautiful if he'd seen it piled so high as -to blockade the street-cars and interrupt business generally." He spoke -with the young pride he was finding in himself as a business man, though -it would have been hard to tell just what his business was. - -"Oh, but Dick," said Miss Bonnell, her dark face lighting with a fine -smile, "the poet wouldn't have thought of business!" - -"No, I suppose not," admitted Dick with the contempt a business man -should feel for a poet. - -"He might have found a theme in the immense damage the storm has -done--telegraph wires all down, trains all late, the whole country in -the grip of the blizzard, and a cold wave sweeping down from Medicine -Hat." - -The slender young man who spoke was Gordon Marriott, and he made his -observation in a way that was almost too serious to be conventional or -even desirable in a society where seriousness was not encouraged. He -looked dreamily into the fire, as if he had merely spoken a thought -aloud rather than addressed any one; but the company standing about the -fireplace, trying to make the talk last for the few moments before -dinner was announced, looked up suddenly, and seemed to be puzzled by -the expression on his smooth-shaven delicate face. - -"Oh, a theme for an epic!" exclaimed Mrs. Modderwell, the wife of the -rector. Her pale face was glowing with unusual color, and her great -dark eyes were lighting with enthusiasm. As she spoke, she glanced at -her husband, and seemed to shrink in her black gown. - -"But we have no poet to do it," said Elizabeth. - -"Oh, I say," interrupted Modderwell, speaking in the upper key he -employed in addressing women, and then, quickly changing to the deep, -almost gruff tone which, with his affected English accent, he used when -he spoke to men, "our friend Marriott here could do it; he's dreamer -enough for it--eh, Marriott?" He gave his words the effect of a joke, -and Marriott smiled at them, while the rest laughed in their readiness -to laugh at anything. - -"No," said Marriott, "I couldn't do it, though I wish I could. Walt -Whitman might have done it; he could have begun with the cattle on the -plains, freezing, with their tails to the wind, and catalogued -everything on the way till he came to the stock quotations and--" - -"The people sleighing on Claybourne Avenue," said Elizabeth, remembering -her walk of the afternoon. "And he would have gone on tracing the more -subtle and sinister effects--perhaps suggesting something tragic." - -"Well, now, really, when I was in Canada, you know--" began Modderwell. -Though he had been born in Canada and had lived most of his life there, -he always referred to the experience as if it had been a mere visit; he -wished every one to consider him an Englishman. And nearly every one -did, except Marriott, who looked at Modderwell in his most innocent -manner and began: - -"Oh, you Canadians--" - -But just then dinner was announced, and though Elizabeth smiled at -Marriott with sympathy, she was glad to have him interrupted in his -philosophizing, or poetizing, or whatever it was, to take her out to the -dining-room, where the great round table, with its mound of scarlet -roses and tiny glasses of sherry glowing ruddy in the soft light of the -shaded candelabra, awaited them. And there they passed through the long -courses, at first talking lightly, but excitedly, of the snow, -mentioning the pleasure and the new sensations it would afford them; -then of their acquaintances; of a new burlesque that had run for a year -in a New York theater; then of a new romance in which a great many -people were killed and imprisoned, though not in a disagreeable manner, -and, in short, talked of a great many unimportant things, but talked of -them as if they were, in reality, of the utmost importance. - -The butler had taken off the salad; they were waiting for the dessert. -Suddenly from the direction of the kitchen came a piercing scream, -evidently a woman's scream; all the swinging doors between the -dining-room and the distant kitchen could not muffle it. Mrs. -Modderwell started nervously, then, at a look from her husband, composed -herself and hung her head with embarrassment. The others at the table -started, though not so visibly, and then tried to appear as if they had -not done so. Mrs. Ward looked up in alarm, first at Ward, who hastily -gulped some wine, and then at Elizabeth. Wonder and curiosity were in -all the faces about the board--wonder and curiosity that no -sophistication could conceal. They waited; the time grew long; Mrs. -Ward, who always suffered through her dinners, suffered more than ever -now. Her guests tried bravely to sit as if nothing were wrong, but at -last their little attempts at conversation failed, and they sat in -painful silence. The moments passed; Ward and his wife exchanged -glances; Elizabeth looked at her mother sympathetically. At last the -door swung and the butler entered; the guests could not help glancing at -him. But in his face there was a blank and tutored passivity that was -admirable, almost heroic. - -When the women were in the drawing-room, Mrs. Ward excused herself for a -moment and went to the kitchen. She returned presently, and Elizabeth -voiced the question the others were too polite to ask. - -"What on earth's the matter?" - -"Matter!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward. "Gusta's going, that's all." She said -it with the feeling such a calamity merited. - -"When?" - -"Now." - -"But the scream--what was it?" - -"Well, word came about her father; he's been hurt, or killed, or -something, in the railroad yards." - -"Oh, how dreadful!" the women politely chorused. - -"Yes, I should think so," said Mrs. Ward. "To be left like this without -a moment's warning! And then that awful _contretemps_ at dinner!" Mrs. -Ward looked all the anguish and shame she felt. - -"But Gusta couldn't help that," said Elizabeth. - -"No," said Mrs. Ward, lapsing from her mood of exaggeration, "I know -that, of course. The poor girl is quite broken up. I hope it is -nothing really serious. And yet," she went on, her mind turning again to -her own domestic misfortunes, "people of her class seem to have the most -unerring faculty for calamity. They're always getting hurt, or sick, or -dying, or something. The servants in my house suffer more bereavement in -the course of a month than all the rest of my acquaintance in a -lifetime." - -And then the ladies took up the servant-girl problem, and canvassed it -hopelessly until the men were heard entering the library. - - - - - III - - -While Mrs. Ward was discussing her maid with her guests, Gusta was -hurrying homeward alone, the prey of fears, omens and forebodings. -There was the shock of this sudden news from home, and her horror of -what awaited her there; besides she had a strange feeling about leaving -the Wards in this way. The night had grown bitterly cold. The frozen -snow crunched with a whining noise under her heels as she passed swiftly -along. In the light of the arc-lamps that swung at the street -crossings, the trees along the curb cast their long shadows before her, -falling obliquely across the sidewalk and stretching off into the yard; -as she passed on, they wheeled, lost themselves in gloom, then appeared -again, stretching the other way. The shadows confused and frightened -her. She thought of Elizabeth and all her kindness; when would she see -Elizabeth again? With this horrible thing at home all had changed; her -mother would need her now. She thought of the hard work, with the -children crying about, and the ugly kitchen, with none of the things -there were at the Wards' to make the work easy. She would have to lug -the water in from the cistern; the pump would be frozen, and the water -would splash on her hands and make them red and raw and sore; they could -never be white and soft like Elizabeth's. She would have to shovel the -snow, and make paths, and split kindlings, and carry wood and coal, and -make fires. And then the house would never be warm like the Wards'; they -would eat in the kitchen and sit there all day long. The storm, which -had made no change at all at the Wards', would make it all so much -harder at home. Her father would be sick a long time; and, of course, -he would lose his job; the house would be gloomy and sad; it would be -worse than the winter he had been on strike. - -The keen wind that was blowing from the northwest stung Gusta's face; -she felt the tears in her eyes, and when they ran on to her cheeks they -froze at once and made her miserable. She shuddered with the cold, her -fingers were numb, her feet seemed to be bare on the snow, her ears were -burning. The wind blew against her forehead and seemed as if it would -cut the top of her head off as with a cold blade. She tried to pull her -little jacket about her; the jacket was one Elizabeth had given her, and -she had always been proud of it and thought that it made her look like -Elizabeth, but it could not keep her warm now. She ran a few steps, -partly to get warm, partly to make swifter progress homeward, partly for -no reason at all. She thought of her comfortable room at the Wards' and -the little colored pictures Elizabeth had given her to hang about the -walls. An hour before she had expected to go to that room and rest -there,--and now she was going home to sickness and sorrow and ugly work. -She gave a little sob and tried to brush away her tears, but they were -frozen to her eye-lashes, and it gave her a sharp pain above her eyes -when she put her hand up to her face. - -Gusta had now reached the poorer quarter of the town, which was not far -from Claybourne Avenue, though hidden from it. The houses were huddled -closely together, and their little window-panes were frosty against the -light that shone through the holes in their shades. There were many -saloons, as many as three on a corner; the ice was frozen about their -entrances, but she could see the light behind the screens. They seemed -to be warm--the only places in that neighborhood that were warm. She -passed one of them just as the latch clicked and the door opened, and -three young men came out, laughing loud, rough, brutal laughs. Gusta -shrank to the edge of the sidewalk; when she got into the black shadow -of the low frame building, she ran, and as she ran she could hear the -young men laughing loudly behind her. She plunged on into the shadows -that lay so thick and black ahead. - -But as she drew near her home, all of Gusta's other thoughts were -swallowed up in the thought of her father. She forgot how cold she was; -her fingers were numb, but they no longer ached; a kind of physical -insensibility stole through her, but she was more than ever alive -mentally to the anguish that was on her. She thought of her father, and -she remembered a thousand little things about him,--all his ways, all -his sayings, little incidents of her childhood; and the tears blinded -her, because now he probably would never speak to her again, never open -his eyes to look on her again. She pictured him lying on his bed, -broken and maimed, probably covered with blood, gasping his few last -breaths. She broke into a little run, the clumsy trot of a woman, her -skirts beating heavily and with dull noises against her legs, her shoes -crunching, crunching, on the frozen snow. At last she turned another -corner, and entered a street that was even narrower and darker than the -others. Its surface, though hidden by the snow, was billowy where the -ash piles lay; there was no light, but the snow seemed to give a gray -effect to the darkness. This was Bolt Street, in which Gusta's family, -the Koerners, lived. - -The thin crackled shade was down at the front window, but the light -shone behind it. Gusta pushed open the front door and rushed in. She -took in the front room at a glance, seeking the evidence of change; but -all was unchanged, familiar--the strips of rag carpet on the floor, the -cheap oak furniture upholstered in green and red plush, the rough, -coarse-grained surface of the wood varnished highly; the photograph of -herself in the white dress and veil she had worn to her first communion, -the picture of Archie sent from the Presidio, the colored prints of -Bismarck and the battle of Sedan--all were there. The room was just as -it had always been, clean, orderly, unused--save that some trinkets -Archie had brought from Manila were on the center-table beside the lamp, -which, with its round globe painted with brown flowers, gave the room -its light. - -Gusta had taken all this in with a little shock of surprise, and in the -same instant the children, Katie and little Jakie, sprang forth to meet -her. They stood now, clutching at her skirts; they held up their little -red, chapped faces, all dirty and streaked with tears; their lips -quivered, and they began to whimper. But Gusta, with her wild eyes -staring above their little flaxen heads, pressed on in, and the -children, hanging on to her and impeding her progress, began to cry -peevishly. - -Gusta saw her mother sitting in the kitchen. Two women of the -neighborhood sat near her, dull, silent, stupid, their chins on their -huge breasts, as if in melancholia. Though the room was stiflingly warm -with the heat from the kitchen stove, the women kept their shawls over -their heads, like peasants. Mrs. Koerner sat in a rocking-chair in the -middle of her clean white kitchen floor. As she lifted her dry eyes and -saw Gusta, her brows contracted under her thin, carefully-parted hair, -and she lifted her brawny arms, bare to the elbows, and rocked backward, -her feet swinging heavily off the floor. - -"Where's father?" Gusta demanded, starting toward her mother. - -Mrs. Koerner's lips opened and she drew a long breath, then exhaled it -in a heavy sigh. - -"Where is he?" Gusta demanded again. She spoke so fiercely that the -children suddenly became silent, their pale blue eyes wide. One of the -neighbors looked up, unwrapped her bare arms from her gingham apron and -began to poke the kitchen fire. Mrs. Koerner suddenly bent forward, her -elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, and began to cry, and to -mumble in German. At this, the two neighbor women began to speak to -each other in German. It always irritated Gusta to have her mother -speak in German. She had learned the language in her infancy, but she -grew ashamed of it when she was sent to the public schools, and never -spoke it when she could help it. And now in her resentment of the whole -tragic situation, she flew into a rage. Her mother threw her apron over -her face, and rocked back and forth. - -"Aw, quit, ma!" cried Gusta; "quit, now, can't you?" - -Mrs. Koerner took her apron from her face and looked at Gusta. Her -expression was one of mute appealing pain. Gusta, softened, put her -hand on her mother's head. - -"Tell me, ma," she said softly, "where is he?" - -Mrs. Koerner rocked again, back and forth, flinging up her arms and -shaking her head from side to side. A fear seized Gusta. - -"Where is he?" she demanded. - -"He goes on der hospital," said one of the women. "He's bad hurt." - -The word "hospital" seemed to have a profound and sinister meaning for -Mrs. Koerner, and she began to wail aloud. Gusta feared to ask more. -The children were still clinging to her. They hung to her skirts, tried -to grasp her legs, almost toppling her over. - -"Want our supper!" Jakie cried; "want our supper!" - -"Gusta," said Katie, "did the pretty lady send me something good?" - -Gusta still stood there; her cheeks were glowing red from their exposure -to the wind that howled outside and rattled the loose sash in the -window. But about her bluish lips the skin was white, her blue eyes -were tired and frightened. She dropped a hand to each of the children, -her knees trembled, and she gave little lurches from side to side as she -stood there, with the children tugging at her, in their fear and hunger. - -"Where's Archie?" she asked. - -"He's gone for his beer," said one of the neighbors, the one who had not -spoken. As she spoke she revealed her loose teeth, standing wide apart -in her gums. "Maybe he goes on der hospital yet." - -Every time they spoke the word "hospital," Mrs. Koerner flung up her -arms, and Gusta herself winced. But she saw that neither her mother nor -these women who had come in to sit with her could tell her anything; to -learn the details she would have to wait until Archie came. She had -been drawing off her gloves as she stood there, and now she laid aside -her hat and her jacket, and tied on one of her mother's aprons. Then -silently she went to work, opened the stove door, shook the ashes down, -threw in coal, and got out a skillet. The table spread with its red -cloth stood against the window-sill, bearing cream pitcher and sugar -bowl, and a cheap glass urn filled with metal spoons. She went to the -pantry, brought out a crock of butter and put it on the table, then cut -pieces of side-meat and put them in a skillet, where they began to swim -about and sizzle in the sputtering grease. Then she set the coffee to -boil, cut some bread, and, finding some cold potatoes left over from -dinner, she set these on the table for the supper. It grew still, -quiet, commonplace. Gusta bustled about, her mother sat there quietly, -the neighbors looked on stolidly, the children snuffled now and then. -The tragedy seemed remote and unreal. - -Gusta took a pail and whisked out of the kitchen door; the wind rushed -in, icy cold; she was back in a moment, her golden hair blowing. She -poured some of the water into a pan, and called the children to her. -They stood as stolidly as the women sat, their hands rigid by their -sides, their chins elevated, gasping now and then as Gusta washed their -dirty faces with the rag she had wrung out in the icy water. The odor -of frying pork was now filling the room, and the children's red, -burnished faces were gleaming with smiles, and their blue eyes danced as -they stood looking at the hot stove. When the pork was fried, Gusta, -using her apron to protect her hand, seized the skillet from the stove, -scraped the spluttering contents into a dish and set it on the table. -Then the children climbed into chairs, side by side, clutching the edge -of the table with their little fingers. Mrs. Koerner let Gusta draw up -her rocking-chair, leaned over, resting her fat forearms on the table, -holding her fork in her fist, and ate, using her elbow as a fulcrum. - -When the meal was done, Mrs. Koerner began to rock again, the children -stood about and watched Gusta pile the dishes on the table and cover -them with the red cloth, and then, when she told them they must go to -bed, they protested, crying that father had not come home yet. Their -eyes were heavy and their flaxen heads were nodding, and Gusta dragged -them into a room that opened off the kitchen, and out of the dark could -be heard their small voices, protesting sleepily that they were not -sleepy. - -After a while a quick, regular step was heard outside, some one stamped -the snow from his boots, the door opened, and Archie entered. His face -was drawn and flaming from the cold, and there was shrinking in his -broad military shoulders; a shiver ran through his well-set-up figure; -he wore no overcoat; he keenly felt the exposure to weather he was so -unused to. He flung aside his gray felt soldier's hat--the same he had -worn in the Philippines--strode across the room, bent over the stove and -warmed his red fingers. - -"It's a long hike over to the hospital this cold night," he said, -turning to Gusta and smiling. His white teeth showed in his smile, and -the skin of his face was red and parched. He flung a chair before the -stove, sat down, hooked one heel on its rung, and taking some little -slips of rice paper from his pocket, and a bag of tobacco, began rolling -himself a cigarette. He rolled the cigarette swiftly and deftly, -lighted it, and inhaled the smoke eagerly. Gusta, meanwhile, sat -looking at him in a sort of suppressed impatience. Then, the smoke -stealing from his mouth with each word he uttered, he said: - -"Well, they've cut the old man's leg off." - -Gusta and the neighbor women looked at Archie in silence. Mrs. Koerner -seemed unable to grasp the full meaning of what he had said. - -"_Was sagst du?_" she asked, leaning forward anxiously. - -"_Sie haben sein Bein amputiert_," replied Archie. - -"_Sein Bein--was?_" inquired Mrs. Koerner. - -"What the devil's 'cut off'?" asked Archie, turning to Gusta. - -She thought a moment. - -"Why," she said, "let's see. _Abgeschnitten_, I guess." - -"Je's," said Archie impatiently, "I wish she'd cut out the Dutch!" - -Then he turned toward his mother and speaking loudly, as if she were -deaf, as one always speaks who tries to make himself understood in a -strange tongue: - -"_Sie haben sein Bein abgeschnitten--die Doctoren im Hospital._" - -Mrs. Koerner stared at her son, and Archie and Gusta and the two women -sat and stared at her, then suddenly Mrs. Koerner's expression became -set, meaningless and blank, her eyes slowly closed and her body slid off -the chair to the floor. Archie sprang toward her and tried to lift her. -She was heavy even for his strong arms, and he straightened an instant, -and shouted out commands: - -"Open the door, you! Gusta, get some water!" - -One of the women lumbered across the kitchen and flung wide the door, -Gusta got a dipper of water and splashed it in her mother's face. The -cold air rushing into the overheated kitchen and the cool water revived -the prostrate woman; she opened her eyes and looked up, sick and -appealing. Archie helped her to her chair and stood leaning over her. -Gusta, too, bent above her, and the two women pressed close. - -"Stand back!" shouted Archie peremptorily. "Give her some air, can't -you?" - -The two women slunk back--not without glances of reproach at Archie. He -stood looking at his mother a moment, his hands resting on his hips. He -was still smoking his cigarette, tilting back his head and squinting his -eyes to escape the smoke. Gusta was fanning her mother. - -"Do you feel better?" she asked solicitously. - -"_Ja_," said Mrs. Koerner, but she began to shake her head. - -"Oh, it's all right, ma," Archie assured her. "It's the best place for -him. Why, they'll give him good care there. I was in the hospital a -month already in Luzon." - -The old woman was unconvinced and shook her head. Then Archie stepped -close to her side. - -"Poor old mother!" he said, and he touched her brow lightly, -caressingly. She looked at him an instant, then turned her head against -him and cried. The tears began to roll down Gusta's cheeks, and Archie -squinted his eyes more and more. - -"We'd better get her to bed," he said softly, and glanced at the two -women with a look of dismissal. They still sat looking on at this effect -of the disaster, not altogether curiously nor without sympathy, yet -claiming all the sensation they could get out of the situation. When -Archie and Gusta led Mrs. Koerner to her bed, the two women began -talking rapidly to each other in German, criticizing Archie and the -action of the authorities in taking Koerner to the hospital. - - - - - IV - - -Gusta cherished a hope of going back to the Wards', but as the days went -by this hope declined. Mrs. Koerner was mentally prostrated and Gusta -was needed now at home, and there she took up her duties, attending the -children, getting the meals, caring for the house, filling her mother's -place. After a few days she reluctantly decided to go back for her -clothes. The weather had moderated, the snow still lay on the ground, -but grimy, soft and disintegrating. The sky was gray and cold, the mean -east wind was blowing in from the lake, and yet Gusta liked its cool -touch on her face, and was glad to be out again after all those days she -had been shut in the little home. It was good to feel herself among -other people, to get back to normal life, and though Gusta did not -analyze her sensations thus closely, or, for that matter, analyze them -at all, she was all the more happy. - -Before Nussbaum's saloon she saw the long beer wagon; its splendid -Norman horses tossing their heads playfully, the stout driver in his -leathern apron lugging in the kegs of beer. The sight pleased her; and -when Nussbaum, in white shirt-sleeves and apron, stepped to the door for -his breath of morning air, she smiled and nodded to him. His round -ruddy face beamed pleasantly. - -"Hello, Gustie," he called. "How are you this morning? How's your -father?" - -"Oh, he's better, thank you, Mr. Nussbaum," replied Gusta, and she -hastened on. As she went, she heard the driver of the brewery wagon -ask: - -"Who's that?" - -And Nussbaum replied: - -"Reinhold Koerner's girl, what got hurt on the railroad the other day." - -"She's a good-looker, hain't she?" said the driver. - -And Gusta colored and felt proud and happier than before. - -She was not long in reaching Claybourne Avenue, and it was good to see -the big houses again, and the sleighs coursing by, and the carriages, -and the drivers and footmen, some of whom she knew, sitting so stiffly -in their liveries on the boxes. At sight of the familiar roof and -chimneys of the Wards' house, her heart leaped; she felt now as if she -were getting back home. - -It was Gusta's notion that as soon as she had greeted her old friend -Mollie, the cook, she would rush on into the dining-room; but no sooner -was she in the kitchen than she felt a constraint, and sank down weakly -on a chair. Molly was busy with luncheon; things were going on in the -Ward household, going on just as well without her as with her, just as -the car shops were going on without her father, the whistle blowing -night and morning. It gave Gusta a little pang. This feeling was -intensified when, a little later, a girl entered the kitchen, a thin -girl, with black hair and blue eyes with long Irish lashes. She would -have been called pretty by anybody but Gusta, and Gusta herself must -have allowed her prettiness in any moment less sharp than this. The new -maid inspected Gusta coldly, but none of the glances from her eyes could -hurt Gusta half as much as her presence there hurt her; and the hurt was -so deep that she felt no personal resentment; she regarded the maid -merely as a situation, an unconscious and irresponsible symbol of -certain untoward events. - -"Want to see Mrs. Ward?" the maid inquired. - -"Yes, and Miss Elizabeth, too," said Gusta. - -"Mrs. Ward's out and Miss Ward's busy just now." - -Mollie, whose broad back was bent over her table, knew how the words -hurt Gusta, and, without turning, she said: - -"You go tell her Gusta's here, Nora; she'll want to see her." - -"Oh, sure," said Nora, yielding to a superior. "I'll tell her." - -Almost before Nora could return, Elizabeth stood in the swinging door, -beaming her surprise and pleasure. And Gusta burst into tears. - -"Why Gusta," exclaimed Elizabeth, "come right in here!" - -She held the door, and Gusta, with a glance at Nora, went in. Seated by -the window in the old familiar dining-room, with Elizabeth before her, -Gusta glanced about, the pain came back, and the tears rolled down her -cheeks. - -"You mustn't cry, Gusta," said Elizabeth. - -Gusta sat twisting her fingers together, in and out, while the tears -fell. She could not speak for a moment, and then she looked up and -tried to smile. - -"You mustn't cry," Elizabeth repeated. "You aren't half so pretty when -you cry." - -Gusta's wet lashes were winking rapidly, and she took out her -handkerchief and wiped her face and her eyes, and Elizabeth looked at -her intently. - -"Poor child!" she said presently. "What a time you've had!" - -"Oh, Miss Elizabeth!" said Gusta, the tears starting afresh at this -expression of sympathy, "we've had a dreadful time!" - -"And we've missed you awfully," said Elizabeth. "When are you coming -back to us?" - -Gusta looked up gratefully. "I don't know, Miss Elizabeth; I wish I -did. But you see my mother is sick ever since father--" - -"And how is your father? We saw in the newspaper how badly he had been -hurt." - -"Was it in the paper?" said Gusta eagerly, leaning forward a little. - -"Yes, didn't you see it? It was just a little item; it gave few of the -details, and it must have misspelled--" But Elizabeth stopped. - -"I didn't see it," said Gusta. "He was hurt dreadfully, Miss Elizabeth; -they cut his leg off at the hospital." - -"Oh, Gusta! And he's there still, of course?" - -"Yes, and we don't know how long he'll have to stay. Maybe he'll have -to go under another operation." - -"Oh, I hope not!" said Elizabeth. "Tell me how he was hurt." - -"Well, Miss Elizabeth, we don't just know--not just exactly. He had -knocked off work and left the shops and was coming across the yards--he -always comes home that way, you know--but it was dark, and the snow was -all over everything, and the ice, and somehow he slipped and caught his -foot in a frog, and just then a switch-engine came along and ran over -his leg." - -"Oh, horrible!" Elizabeth's brows contracted in pain. - -"The ambulance took him right away to the Hospital. Ma felt awful bad -'cause they wouldn't let him be fetched home. She didn't want him taken -to the hospital." - -"But that was the best place for him, Gusta; the very best place in the -world." - -"That's what Archie says," said Gusta, "but ma doesn't like it; she -can't get used to it, and she says--" Gusta hesitated,--"she says we -can't afford to keep him there." - -"But the railroad will pay for that, won't it?" - -"Oh, do you think it will, Miss Elizabeth? It had ought to, hadn't it? -He's worked there thirty-seven years." - -"Why, surely it will," said Elizabeth. "I wouldn't worry about that a -minute if I were you. You must make the best of it. And is there -anything I can do for you, Gusta?" - -"No, thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I just came around to see you,"--she -looked up with a fond smile,--"and to get my clothes. Then I must go. -I want to go see father before I go back home. I guess I'll pack my -things now, and then Archie'll come for my trunk this afternoon." - -"Oh, I'll have Barker haul it over; he can just as well as not. And, -Gusta,"--Elizabeth rose on the impulse--"I'll drive you to the hospital. -I was just going out. You wait here till I get my things." - -Gusta's face flushed with pleasure; she poured out her thanks, and then -she waited while Elizabeth rang for the carriage, and ran out to prepare -for the street, just as she used to. - -It was a fine thing for Gusta to ride with Elizabeth in her brougham. -She had often imagined how it would be, sitting there in the exclusion -of the brougham's upholstered interior, with the little clock, and the -mirror and the bottle of salts before her, and the woven silk tube -through which Elizabeth spoke to Barker when she wished to give him -directions. The drive to the hospital was all too short for Gusta, even -though Elizabeth prolonged it by another impulse which led her to drive -out of their way to get some fruit and some flowers. - -In the street before the hospital, and along the driveway that led to -the suggestively wide side door, carriages were being slowly driven up -and down, denoting that the social leaders who were patronesses of the -hospital were now inside, patronizing the superintendent and the head -nurse. Besides these there were the high, hooded phaetons of the -fashionable physicians. It was the busy hour at the hospital. The -nurses had done their morning work, made their entries on their charts, -and were now standing in little groups about the hall, waiting for their -"cases" to come back from the operating-rooms. There was the odor of -anesthetics in the air, and the atmosphere of the place, professional -and institutional though it was, was surcharged with a heavy human -suspense--the suspense that hung over the silent, heavily breathing, -anesthetized human forms that were stretched on glass tables in the hot -operating-rooms up-stairs, some of them doomed to die, others to live -and prolong existence yet a while. The wide slow elevators were waiting -at the top floor; at the doors of the operating-rooms stood the -white-padded rubber-tired carts, the orderlies sitting on them swinging -their legs off the floor, and gossiping about the world outside, where -life did not hover, but throbbed on, intent, preoccupied. In private -rooms, in vacant rooms, in the office down-stairs, men and women, the -relatives of those on the glass tables above, waited with white, -haggard, frightened faces. - -As Elizabeth and Gusta entered the hospital they shuddered, and drew -close to each other like sisters. Koerner was in the marine ward, and -Gusta dreaded the place. On her previous visits there, the nurses had -been sharp and severe with her, but this morning, when the nurses saw -Elizabeth bearing her basket of fruit and her flowers--which she would -not let Gusta carry, feeling that would rob her offering of the personal -quality she wished it to assume--they ran forward, their starched, -striped blue skirts rustling, and greeted her with smiles. - -"Why, Miss Ward!" they cried. - -"Good morning," said Elizabeth, "we've come to see Mr. Koerner." - -"Oh, yes," said Koerner's nurse, a tall, spare young woman with a large -nose, eye-glasses, and a flat chest. "He's so much better this morning." -She said this with a patronizing glance aside at Gusta, who tried to -smile; the nurse had not spoken so pleasantly to her before. - -The nurse led the girls into the ward, and they passed down between the -rows of white cots. Some of the cots were empty, their white sheets -folded severely, back, awaiting the return of their occupants from the -rooms up-stairs. In the others men sprawled, with pallid, haggard -faces, and watched the young women as they passed along, following them -with large, brilliant, sick eyes. But Elizabeth and Gusta did not look -at them; they kept their eyes before them. One bed had a white screen -about it; candles glowed through the screen, silhouetting the bending -forms of a priest, a doctor and a nurse. - -Koerner was at the end of the ward. His great, gaunt, heavy figure was -supine on the bed; the bandaged stump of his leg made a heavy bulk under -the counterpane; his broad shoulders mashed down the pillow; his -enormous hands, still showing in their cracks and crevices and around -the cuticle of his broken nails the grime that all the antiseptic -scrubbings of a hospital could not remove, lay outside the coverlid, -idle for the first time in half a century. His white hair was combed, -its ragged edges showing more obviously, and his gaunt cheeks were -covered by a stubble of frosty beard. His blue eyes were unnaturally -bright. - -Elizabeth fell back a little that Gusta might greet him first, and the -strong, lusty, healthy girl bent over her father and laid one hand on -his. - -"Well, pa, how're you feeling to-day?" - -"Hullo, Gustie," said the old man, "you gom' again, huh? Vell, der oldt -man's pretty bad, I tel' you." - -"Why, the nurse said you were better." - -"Why, yes," said the nurse, stepping forward with a professional smile, -"he's lots better this morning; he just won't admit it, that's all. But -we know him here, we do!" - -She said this playfully, with a lateral addition to her smile, and she -bent over and passed her hand under the bed-clothes and touched his -bandages here and there. Elizabeth and Gusta stood looking on. - -"Isn't the pain any better?" asked the nurse, still smilingly, -coaxingly. - -"Naw," growled the old German, stubbornly refusing to smile. "I toldt -you it was no besser, don't I?" - -The nurse drew out her hand. The smile left her face and she stood -looking down on him with a helpless expression that spread to the faces -of Elizabeth and Gusta. Koerner turned his head uneasily on the pillow -and groaned. - -"What is it, pa?" asked Gusta. - -"Der rheumatiz'." - -"Where?" - -"In my leg. In der same oldt blace. Ach!" - -An expression of puzzled pain came to Gusta's face. - -"Why," she said half-fearfully, "how can it--now?" She looked at the -nurse. The nurse smiled again, this time with an air of superior -knowledge. - -"They often have those sensations," she said, laughing. "It's quite -natural." Then she bent over Koerner and said cheerily: "I'm going now, -and leave you with your daughter and Miss Ward." - -"Yes, pa," said Gusta, "Miss Elizabeth's here to see you." - -She put into her tone all the appreciation of the honor she wished her -father to feel. Elizabeth came forward, her gloved hands folded before -her, and stood carefully away from the bed so that even her skirts -should not touch it. - -"How do you do, Mr. Koerner?" she said in her soft voice--so different -from the voices of the nurse and Gusta. - -Koerner turned and looked at her an instant, his mouth open, his tongue -playing over his discolored teeth. - -"Hullo," he said, "you gom' to see der oldt man, huh?" - -Elizabeth smiled. - -"Yes, I came to see how you were, and to know if there is anything I -could do for you." - -"_Ach_," he said, "I'm all right. Dot leg he hurts yust der same efery -day. Kesterday der's somet'ing between der toes; dis time he's got der -damned oldt rheumatiz', yust der same he used to ven he's on dere all -right." - -The old man then entered into a long description of his symptoms, and -Elizabeth tried hard to smile and to sympathize. She succeeded in -turning him from his subject presently, and then she said: - -"Is there anything you want, Mr. Koerner? I'd be so glad to get you -anything, you know." - -"Vell, I like a schmoke alreadty, but she won't let me. You know my -oldt pipe, Gusta? Vell, I lose him by der accident dot night. He's on -der railroadt, I bet you." - -"Oh, we'll get you another pipe, Mr. Koerner," said Elizabeth, laughing. -"Isn't there anything else?" - -"Naw," he said, "der railroadt gets me eferyt'ing. I work on dot roadt -t'irty-seven year now a'readty. Dot man, dot--vat you call him?--dot -glaim agent, he kum here kesterday, undt he say he get me eferyt'ing. -He's a fine man, dot glaim agent. He laugh undt choke mit me; he saidt -der roadt gif me chob flaggin' der grossing. All I yust do is to sign -der baper--" - -"Oh, Mr. Koerner," cried Elizabeth in alarm, and Gusta, at her -expression, started forward, and Koerner himself became all attention, -"you did not sign any paper, did you?" - -The old man looked at her an instant, and then a soft shadowy smile -touched his lips. - -"Don't you vorry," he said; "der oldt man only got von leg, but he don't -sign no damned oldt baper." He shook his head on the pillow sagely, and -then added: "You bet!" - -"That's splendid!" said Elizabeth. "You're very wise, Mr. Koerner." -She paused and thought a moment, her brows knit. Then her expression -cleared and she said: - -"You must let me send a lawyer." - -"Oh, der been blenty of lawyers," said Koerner. - -"Yes," laughed Elizabeth, "there are plenty of lawyers, to be sure, but -I mean--" - -"Der been more as a dozen here alreadty," he went on, "but dey don't let -'em see me." - -"I don't think a lawyer who would come to see you would be the kind you -want, Mr. Koerner." - -"Dot's all right. Der been blenty of time for der lawyers." - -"Oh, pa," Gusta put in, "you must take Miss Elizabeth's advice. She -knows best. She'll send you a good lawyer." - -"Vell, ve see about dot," said Koerner. - -"I presume, Mr. Koerner," said Elizabeth, "they wouldn't let a lawyer -see you, but I'll bring one with me the next time I come--a very good -one, one that I know well, and he'll advise you what to do; shall I?" - -"Vell, ve see," said Koerner. - -"Now, pa, you must let Miss Elizabeth bring a lawyer," and then she -whispered to Elizabeth: "You bring one anyway, Miss Elizabeth. Don't -mind what he says. He's always that way." - -Elizabeth brought out her flowers and fruit then, and Koerner glanced at -them without a word, or without a look of gratitude, and when she had -arranged the flowers on his little table, she bade him good-by and took -Gusta with her and went. - -As they passed out, the white rubber-tired carts were being wheeled down -the halls, the patients they bore still breathing profoundly under the -anesthetics, from which it was hoped they would awaken in their clean, -smooth beds. The young women hurried out, and Elizabeth drank in the -cool wintry air eagerly. - -"Oh, Gusta!" she said, "this air is delicious after that air in there! -I shall have the taste of it for days." - -"Miss Elizabeth, that place is sickening!"--and Elizabeth laughed at the -solemn deliberation with which Gusta lengthened out the word. - -[Illustration: Elizabeth] - - - - - V - - -"Come in, old man." Marriott glanced up at Dick Ward, who stood smiling -in the doorway of his private office. - -"Don't let me interrupt you, my boy," said Dick as he entered. - -"Just a minute," said Marriott, "and then I'm with you." Dick dropped -into the big leather chair, unbuttoned his tan overcoat, arranged its -skirts, drew off his gloves, and took a silver cigarette-case from his -pocket. Marriott, swinging about in his chair, asked his stenographer -to repeat the last line, picked up the thread, went on: - -"And these answering defendants further say that heretofore, to wit, on -or about--" - -Dick, leaning back in his chair, inhaling the smoke of his cigarette, -looked at the girl who sat beside Marriott's desk, one leg crossed over -the other, the tip of her patent-leather boot showing beneath her skirt, -on her knee the pad on which she wrote in shorthand. The girl's -eyelashes trembled presently and a flush showed in her cheeks, spreading -to her white throat and neck. Dick did not take his eyes from her. When -Marriott finished, the girl left the room hurriedly. - -"Well, what's the news?" asked Marriott. - -"Devilish fine-looking girl you've got there, old man!" said Dick, whose -eyes had followed the stenographer. - -"She's a good girl," said Marriott simply. - -Dick glanced again at the girl. Through the open door he could see her -seating herself at her machine. Then he recalled himself and turned to -Marriott. - -"Say, Bess was trying to get you by 'phone this morning." - -"Is that so?" said Marriott in a disappointed tone. "I was in court all -morning." - -"Well, she said she'd give it up. She said that old man Koerner had -left the hospital and gone home. He sent word to her that he wanted to -see you." - -"Oh, yes," said Marriott, "about that case of his. I must attend to -that, but I've been so busy." He glanced at his disordered desk, with -its hopeless litter of papers. "Let's see," he went on meditatively, "I -guess"--he thought a moment, "I guess I might as well go out there this -afternoon as any time. How far is it?" - -"Oh, it's 'way out on Bolt Street." - -"What car do I take?" - -"Colorado Avenue, I think. I'll go 'long, if you want me." - -"I'll be delighted," said Marriott. He thought a moment longer, then -closed his desk, and said, "We'll go now." - -When they got off the elevator twelve floors below, Dick said: - -"I've got to have a drink before I start. Will you join me?" - -"I just had luncheon a while ago," said Marriott; "I don't really--" - -"I never got to bed till morning," said Dick. "I sat in a little game -at the club last night, and I'm all in." - -Marriott, amused by the youth's pride in his dissipation, went with him -to the café in the basement. Standing before the polished bar, with one -foot on the brass rail, Dick said to the white-jacketed bartender: - -"I want a high-ball; you know my brand, George. What's yours, Gordon?" - -"Oh, I'll take the same." Marriott watched Dick pour a generous -libation over the ice in the glass. - -"Don't forget the imported soda," added Dick with an air of the utmost -seriousness and importance, and the bartender, swiftly pulling the -corks, said: - -"I wouldn't forget you, Mr. Ward." - -The car for which they waited in the drifting crowd at the corner was -half an hour in getting them out to the neighborhood in which the -Koerners lived. They stood on the rear platform all the way, because, -as Dick said, he had to smoke, and as he consumed his cigarettes, he -discoursed to Marriott of the things that filled his life--his card -games and his drinking at the club, his constant attendance at theaters -and cafés. His cheeks were fresh and rosy as a girl's, and smooth from -the razor they did not need. Marriott, as he looked at him, saw a -resemblance to Elizabeth, and this gave the boy an additional charm for -him. He studied this resemblance, but he could not analyze it. Dick -had neither his sister's features nor her complexion; and yet the -resemblance was there, flitting, remote, revealing itself one instant to -disappear the next, evading and eluding him. He could not account for -it, yet its effect was to make his heart warm toward the boy, to make -him love him. - -Marriott let Dick go on in his talk, but he scarcely heard what the boy -said; it was the spirit that held him and charmed him, the spirit of -youth launching with sublime courage into life, not yet aware of its -significance or its purpose. He thought of the danger the boy was in -and longed to help him. How was he to do this? Should he admonish him? -No,--instantly he recognized the fact that he could not do this; he -shrank from preaching; he could take no priggish or Pharisaical -attitude; he had too much culture, too much imagination for that; -besides, he reflected with a shade of guilt, he had just now encouraged -Dick by drinking with him. He flung away his cigarette as if it -symbolized the problem, and sighed when he thought that Dick, after all, -would have to make his way alone and fight his own battles, that the -soul can emerge into real life only through the pains and dangers that -accompany all birth. - -Marriott's knock at the Koerners' door produced the sensation visits -make where they are infrequent, but he and Dick had to wait before the -vague noises died away and the door opened to them. Mrs. Koerner led -them through the parlor--which no occasion seemed ever to merit--to the -kitchen at the other end of the house. The odor of carbolic acid which -the two men had detected the moment they entered, grew stronger as they -approached the kitchen, and there they beheld Koerner, the stump of his -leg bundled in surgical bandages, resting on a pillow in a chair before -him. His position constrained him not to move, and he made no attempt to -turn his head; but when the young men stood before him, he raised to -them a bronzed and wrinkled face. His white hair was rumpled, and he -wore a cross and dissatisfied expression; he held by its bowl the new -meerschaum pipe Elizabeth had sent him, and waved its long stem at -Marriott and Dick, as he waved it scepter-like in ruling his household. - -"My name is Marriott, Mr. Koerner, and this is Mr. Ward, Miss -Elizabeth's brother. She said you wished to see me." - -"You gom', huh?" said Koerner, fixing Marriott with his little blue -eyes. - -"Yes, I'm here at last," said Marriott. "Did you think I was never -going to get here?" He drew up a chair and sat down. Dick took another -chair, but leaned back and glanced about the room, as if to testify to -his capacity of mere spectator. Mrs. Koerner stood beside her husband -and folded her arms. The two children, hidden in their mother's skirts, -cautiously emerged, a bit at a time, as it were, until they stood -staring with wide, curious blue eyes at Marriott. - -"You bin a lawyer, yet, huh?" asked Koerner severely. - -"Yes, I'm a lawyer. Miss Ward said you wished to see a lawyer." - -"I've blenty lawyers alreadty," said Koerner. "Der bin more as a dozen -hier." He waved his pipe at the clock-shelf, where a little stack of -professional cards told how many lawyers had solicited Koerner as a -client. Marriott could have told the names of the lawyers without -looking at their cards. - -"Have you retained any of them?" asked Marriott. - -"Huh?" asked Koerner, scowling. - -"Did you hire any of them?" - -"No, I tell 'em all to go to hell." - -"That's where most of them are going," said Marriott. - -But Koerner did not see the joke. - -"How's your injury?" asked Marriott. - -Koerner winced perceptibly at Marriott's mere glance at his amputated -leg, and stretched the pipe-stem over it as if in protection. - -"He's hurt like hell," he said. - -"Why, hasn't the pain left yet?" asked Marriott in surprise. - -"No, I got der rheumatiz' in dot foot," he pointed with his pipe-stem at -the vacancy where the foot used to be. - -"_That_ foot!" exclaimed Marriott. - -"Bess told us of that," Dick put in. "It gave her the willies." - -"Well, I should think so," said Marriott. - -Koerner looked from one to the other of the two young men. - -"That's funny, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott, "that foot's cut off." - -"I wish der tamn doctors cut off der rheumatiz' der same time! Dey cut -off der foot all right, but dey leave der rheumatiz'." He turned the -long stem of his pipe to his lips and puffed at it, and looked at the -leg as if he were taking up a problem he was working on daily. - -"Well, now, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott presently, "tell me how it -happened and I'll see if I can help you." - -Koerner, just on the point of placing his pipe-stem between his long, -loose, yellow teeth, stopped and looked intently at Marriott. Marriott -saw at once from his expression that he had once more to contend with -the suspicion the poor always feel when dealing with a lawyer. - -"So you been Mr. Marriott, huh?" asked Koerner. - -"Yes, I'm Marriott." - -"Der lawyer?" - -"Yes, the lawyer." - -"You der one vot Miss Ward sent alreadty, aind't it?" - -"Yes, I'm the one." Marriott smiled, and then, thinking suddenly of an -incontrovertible argument, he waved his hand at Dick. "This is her -brother. She sent him to bring me here." - -The old man looked at Dick, and then turned to Marriott again. - -"How much you goin' charge me, huh?" His little hard blue eyes were -almost closed. - -"Oh, if I don't get any damages for you, I won't charge you anything." - -The old man made him repeat this several times, and when at last he -understood, he seemed relieved and pleased. And then he wished to know -what the fee would be in the event of success. - -"Oh," said Marriott, "how would one-fifth do?" - -Koerner, when he grasped the idea of the percentage, was satisfied; the -other lawyers who had come to see him had all demanded a contingent fee -of one-third or one-half. When the long bargaining was done and -explained to Mrs. Koerner, who sat watchfully by trying to follow the -conversation, and when Marriott had said that he would draw up a -contract for them to sign and bring it when he came again, the old man -was ready to go on with his story. But before he did so he paused with -his immeasurable German patience to fill his pipe, and, when he had -lighted it, he began. - -"Vell, Mr. Marriott, ven I gom' on dis gountry, I go to vork for dot -railroadt; I vork dere ever since--dot's t'irty-seven year now -alreadty." He paused and puffed, and slowly winked his eyes as he -contemplated those thirty-seven years of toil. "I vork at first for -t'irty tollar a month, den von day Mister Greene, dot's der -suberintendent in dose tays, he call me in, undt he say, 'Koerner, you -can read?' I say I read English some, undt he say, 'Vell, read dot,' -undt he handt me a telegram. Vell I read him--it say dot Greene can -raise der vages of his vatchman to forty tollar a month. Vell, I handt -him der telegram back undt I say, 'I could read two t'ree more like dot, -Mister Greene.' He laugh den undt he say, 'Vell, you read dot von -twicet.' Vell, I got forty tollar a month den; undt in ten year dey -raise me oncet again to forty-five. That's purty goodt, I t'ink." The -old man paused in this retrospect of good fortune. "Vell," he went on, -"I vork along, undt dey buildt der new shops, undt I vork like a dog -getting dose t'ings moved, but after dey get all moved, he calls me in -von tay, undt he say my vages vould be reduced to forty tollar a month. -Vell, I gan't help dot--I haind't got no other chob. Den, vell, I vork -along all right, but der town get bigger, an' der roadt got bigger, an' -dere's so many men dere at night dey don't need me much longer. Undt Mr. -Greene--he's lost his chob, too, undt Mr. Churchill--he's der new -suberintendent--he's cut ever't'ing down, undt after he gom' eferbody -vork longer undt get hell besides. He cut me down to vere I vas at der -first blace--t'irty tollar a month. So!" - -The old man turned out his palms; and his face wrinkled into a strange -grimace that expressed his enforced submission to this fate. And he -smoked on until Marriott roused him. - -"Vell," he said, "dot night it snows, undt I start home again at five -o'clock. It's dark undt the snow fly so I gan't hardly see der svitch -lights. But I gom' across der tracks yust like I always do goming -home--dot's the shortest way I gom', you know--undt I ben purty tired, -undt my tamned old rheumatiz' he's raisin' hell for t'ree days because -dot storm's comin'--vell, I gom' along beside dere segond track over -dere, undt I see an engine, but he's goin' on dot main track, so I gets -over--vell, de snow's fallin' undt I gan't see very well, undt somehow -dot svitch-engine gom' over on der segond track, undt I chump to get -away, but my foot he's caught in der frog--vell, I gan't move, but I -bent vay over to one side--so"--the old man strained himself over the -arm of his chair to illustrate--"undt der svitch-engine yust cut off my -foot nice undt glean. Vell, dot's all der was aboudt it." - -Marriott gave a little shudder; in a flash he had a vision of Koerner -there in the wide switch-yard with its bewildering red and green lights, -the snow filling the air, the gloom of the winter twilight, his foot -fast in the frog, bending far over to save his body, awaiting the -switch-engine as it came stealing swiftly down on him. - -"Did the engine whistle or ring its bell?" - -"No," said the old man. - -"And the frog--that was unblocked?" - -Koerner leaned toward Marriott with a cunning smile. - -"Dot's vere I got 'em, aind't it? Dot frog he's not blocked dere dot -time; der law say dey block dose frog all der time, huh?" - -"Yes, the frog must be blocked. But how did your foot get caught in the -frog?" - -"Vell, I shlipped, dot's it. I gan't see dot frog. You ask Charlie -Drake; he's dere--he seen it." - -"What does he do?" asked Marriott as he scribbled the name on an old -envelope. - -"He's a svitchman in der yard; he tol' you all aboudt it; he seen it--he -knows. He say to me, 'Reinhold, you get damage all right; dot frog -haind't blocked dot time.'" - -Just then the kitchen door opened and Gusta came in. When she saw -Marriott and Ward, she stopped and leaned against the door; her face, -ruddy from the cool air, suddenly turned a deeper red. - -"Oh, Mr. Dick!" she said, and then she looked at Marriott, whom she had -seen and served so often at the Wards'. - -"How do you do, Gusta?" said Marriott, getting up and taking her hand. -She flushed deeper than ever as she came forward, and her blue eyes -sparkled with pleasure. Dick, too, rose and took her hand. - -"Hello, Gusta," he said, "how are you?" - -"Oh, pretty well, Mr. Dick," she answered. She stood a moment, and then -quietly began to unbutton her jacket and to draw the pins from her hat. -Marriott, who had seen her so often at the Wards', concluded as she -stood there before him that he had never realized how beautiful she was. -She removed her wraps, then drew up a chair by her father and sat down, -lifting her hands and smoothing the coils of her golden hair, touching -them gently. - -"You've come to talk over pa's case, haven't you, Mr. Marriott?" - -"Yes," said Marriott. - -"I'm glad of that," the girl said. "He has a good case, hasn't he?" - -"I think so," said Marriott, and then he hastened to add the -qualification that is always necessary in so unexact and whimsical a -science as the law, "that is, it seems so now; I'll have to study it -somewhat before I can give you a definite opinion." - -"I think he ought to have big damages," said Gusta. "Why, just think! -He's worked for that railroad all his life, and now to lose his foot!" - -She looked at her father, her affection and sympathy showing in her -expression. Marriott glanced at Dick, whose eyes were fixed on the -girl. His lips were slightly parted; he gazed at her boldly, his eyes -following every curve of her figure. Her yellow hair was bright in the -light, and the flush of her cheeks spread to her white neck. And -Marriott, in the one moment he glanced at Dick, saw in his face another -expression--an expression that displeased him; and as he recalled the -resemblance to Elizabeth he thought he had noted, he impatiently put it -away, and became angry with himself for ever imagining such a -resemblance; he felt as if he had somehow done Elizabeth a wrong. All -the while they were there Dick kept his bold gaze on Gusta, and -presently Gusta seemed to feel it; the flush of her face and neck -deepened, she grew ill at ease, and presently she rose and left the -room. - -When they were in the street Marriott said to Dick: - -"I don't know about that poor old fellow's case--I'm afraid--" - -"Gad!" said Dick. "Isn't Gusta a corker! I never saw a prettier girl." - -"And you never noticed it before?" said Marriott. - -"Why, I always knew she was good-looking, yes," said Dick; "but I never -paid much attention to her when she worked for us. I suppose it was -because she was a servant, don't you know? A man never notices the -servants, someway." - - - - - VI - - -Ward had not been in the court-house for years, and, as he entered the -building that morning, he hoped he might never be called there again if -his mission were to be as sad as the one on which he then was bent. -Eades had asked him to be there at ten o'clock; it was now within a -quarter of the hour. With a layman's difficulty he found the criminal -court, and as he glanced about the high-ceiled room, and saw that the -boy had not yet been brought in, he felt the relief that comes from the -postponement of an ordeal. With an effect of effacing himself, he -shrank into one of the seats behind the bar, and as he waited his mind -ran back over the events of the past four weeks. He calculated--yes, -the flurry in the market had occurred on the day of the big snow-storm; -and now, so soon, it had come to this! Ward marveled; he had always -heard that the courts were slow, but this--this was quick work indeed! -The court-room was almost empty. The judge's chair, cushioned in -leather, was standing empty behind the high oaken desk. The two trial -tables, across which day after day lawyers bandied the fate of human -beings, were set with geometric exactness side by side, as if the -janitors had fixed them with an eye to the impartiality of the law, -resolved to give the next comers an even start. A clerk was writing in -a big journal; the bailiff had taken a chair in the fading light of one -of the tall southern windows, and in the leisure he could so well afford -in a life that was all leisure, was reading a newspaper. His spectacles -failed to lend any glisten of interest to his eyes; he read -impersonally, almost officially; all interest seemed to have died out of -his life, and he could be stirred to physical, though never to mental -activity, only by the judge himself, to whom he owed his sinecure. The -life had long ago died out of this man, and he had a mild, passive -interest in but one or two things, like the Civil War, and the judge's -thirst, which he regularly slaked with drafts of ice-water. - -Presently two or three young men entered briskly, importantly, and went -at once unhesitatingly within the bar. They entered with an assertive -air that marked them indubitably as young lawyers still conscious of the -privileges so lately conferred. Then some of the loafers came in from -the corridor and sidled into the benches behind the bar. Their -conversation in low tones, and that of the young lawyers in the higher -tones their official quality permitted them, filled the room with a busy -interest. From time to time the loafers were joined by other loafers, -and they all patiently waited for the sensation the criminal court could -dependably provide. - -It was not long before there was a scrape and shuffle of feet and a -rattle of steel, and then a broad-shouldered man edged through the door. -With his right hand he seized a Scotch cap from a head that bristled -with a stubble of red hair. His left hand hung by his side, and when he -had got into the court-room, Ward saw, that a white-haired man walked -close beside him, his right hand manacled to the left hand of the -red-haired man. The red-haired man was Danner, the jailer. Behind him -in sets of twos marched half a dozen other men, each set chained -together. The rear of the little procession was brought up by Utter, a -stalwart young man who was one of Danner's assistants. - -The scrape of the feet that were so soon to shuffle into the -penitentiary, and leave scarce an echo of their hopeless fall behind, -roused every one in the court-room. Even the bailiff got to his -rheumatic feet and hastily arranged a row of chairs in front of the -trial tables. The prisoners sat down and tried to hide their manacles -by dropping their hands between their chairs. - -There were seven of these prisoners, the oldest the man whom Danner had -conducted. He sat with his white head cast down, but his blue eyes -roamed here and there, taking in the whole court-room. The other -prisoners were young men, one of them a negro; and in the appearance of -all there was some pathetic suggestion of a toilet. All of them had -their hair combed carefully, except the negro, whose hair could give no -perceptible evidence of the comb, unless it were the slight, almost -invisible part that bisected his head. But he gave the same air of -trying somehow to make the best appearance he was capable of on this -eventful day. - -Ward's eyes ran rapidly along the row, and rested on the brown-haired, -well-formed head of the youngest of the group. He was scarcely more -than a boy indeed, and he alone, of all the line, was well dressed. His -linen was white, and he wore his well-fitting clothes with a certain -vanity and air of style that even his predicament could not divest him -of. As Ward glanced at him, an expression of pain came to his face; the -color left it for an instant, and then it grew redder than it had been -before. - -These prisoners were about to be sentenced for various felonies. Two of -them, the old man with the white hair and the negro, had been tried, the -one for pocket-picking, the other for burglary. The others were to -change their pleas from not guilty to guilty and throw themselves on the -mercy of the court. They sat there, whispering with one another, gazing -about the room, and speculating on what fate awaited them, or, as they -would have phrased it, what sentences they would draw. Like most -prisoners they were what the laws define as "indigent," that is, so poor -that they could not employ lawyers. The court in consequence had -appointed counsel, and the young lawyers who now stood and joked about -the fates that were presently to issue from the judge's chambers, were -the counsel thus appointed. Now and then the prisoners looked at the -lawyers, and some of them may have indulged speculations as to how that -fate might have been changed--perhaps altogether avoided--had they been -able to employ more capable attorneys. Those among them who had been -induced by their young attorneys to plead guilty--under assurances that -they would thus fare better than they would if they resisted the law by -insisting on their rights under it--probably had not the imagination to -divine that they might have fared otherwise at the hands of the law if -these lawyers had not dreaded the trial as an ordeal almost as great to -them as to their appointed clients, or if they had not been so indigent -themselves as to desire speedily to draw the fee the State would allow -them for their services. Most of the prisoners, indeed, treated these -young lawyers with a certain patience, if not forbearance, and now they -relied on them for such mercy as the law might find in its heart to -bestow. Most of them might have reflected, had they been given to the -practice, that on former experiences they had found the breast of the -law, as to this divine quality, withered and dry. They sat and glanced -about, and now and then whispered, but for the most part they were still -and dumb and hopeless. Meanwhile their lawyers discussed and compared -them, declaring their faces to be hard and criminal; one of the young -men thought a certain face showed particularly the marks of crime, and -when his fellows discovered that he meant the face of Danner, they -laughed aloud and had a good joke on the young man. The young man -became very red, almost as red as Danner himself, whom, he begged, they -would not tell of his mistake. - -At that moment the door of the judge's chambers opened, and instant -silence fell. McWhorter, the judge, appeared. He was a man of middle -size, with black curly hair, smooth-shaven face, and black eyes that -caught in the swiftest glance the row of prisoners, who now straightened -and fixed their eyes on him. McWhorter advanced with a brisk step to the -bench, mounted it, and nodding, said: - -"You may open court, Mr. Bailiff." - -The bailiff let his gavel fall on the marble slab, and then with his -head hanging, his eyes roving in a self-conscious, almost silly way, he -said: - -"Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, this honorable court is now in session." - -The bailiff sat down as in relief, but immediately got up again when the -judge said: - -"Bring me the criminal docket, Mr. Bailiff." - -The bailiff's bent figure tottered out of the court-room. The -court-room was very still; the ticking of the clock on the wall could be -heard. The judge swung his chair about and glanced out of the windows. -Never once did he permit his eyes to rest on the prisoners. - -There was silence and waiting, and after a while the bailiff came with -the docket. The judge opened the book, put on a pair of gold glasses, -and, after a time, reading slowly, said: - -"The State _versus_ Patrick Delaney." - -The white-haired prisoner patiently held out two hands, marvelously -tatooed, and Danner unlocked the handcuffs. At the same moment one of -the young lawyers stood forth from the rest, and Lamborn, an assistant -prosecutor, rose. - -McWhorter was studying the docket. Presently he said: - -"Stand up, Delaney." - -Delaney rose, kept his eyes on the floor, clasped a hand about his red -wrist. Then, for the first time, the judge looked at him. - -"Delaney," he said, "have you anything to say why the sentence of this -court should not be passed upon you?" - -Delaney looked uneasily at the judge and then let his eyes fall. - -"No, Judge, yer Honor," he said, "nothing but that I'm an innocent man. -I didn't do it, yer Honor." - -The remark did not seem to impress the judge, who turned toward the -lawyer. This young man, with a venturesome air, stepped a little -farther from the sheltering company of his associates and, with a face -that was very white and lips that faltered, said in a confused, hurried -way: - -"Your Honor, we hope your Honor'll be as lenient as possible with this -man; we hope your Honor will be as--lenient as possible." The youth's -voice died away and he faded back, as it were, into the shelter of his -companions. The judge did not seem to be more impressed with what the -lawyer had said than he had with what the client had said, and twirling -his glasses by their cord, he turned toward the assistant prosecutor. - -Lamborn, with an affectation of great ease, with one hand in the pocket -of his creased trousers, the other supporting a book of memoranda, -advanced and said: - -"May it please the Court, this man is an habitual criminal; he has -already served a term in the penitentiary for this same offense, and we -understand that he is wanted in New York State at this present time. We -consider him a dangerous criminal, and the State feels that he should be -severely punished." - -McWhorter studied the ceiling of the court-room a moment, still swinging -his eye-glasses by their cord, and then, fixing them on his nose, looked -wisely down at Delaney. Presently he spoke: - -"It is always an unpleasant duty to sentence a man to prison, no matter -how much he may deserve punishment." McWhorter paused as if to let -every one realize his pain in this exigency, and then went on: "But it -is our duty, and we can not shirk it. A jury, Delaney, after a fair -trial, has found you guilty of burglary. It appears from what the -prosecutor says that this is not the first time you have been found -guilty of this offense; the experience does not seem to have done you -any good. You impress the Court as a man who has abandoned himself to a -life of crime, and the Court feels that you should receive a sentence in -this instance that will serve as a warning to you and to others. The -sentence of the Court is--" McWhorter paused as if to balance the -scales of justice with all nicety, and then he looked away. He did not -know exactly how many years in prison would expiate Delaney's crime; -there was, of course, no way for him to tell. He thought first of the -number ten, then of the number five; then, as the saying is, he split -the difference, inclined the fraction to the prisoner and said: - -"The sentence of the Court is that you be confined in the penitentiary -at hard labor for the period of seven years, no part of your sentence to -be in solitary confinement, and that you pay the costs of this -prosecution." - -Delaney sat down without changing expression and held out his hands for -the handcuffs. The steel clicked, and the scratch of the judge's pen -could be heard as he entered the judgment in the docket. - -These proceedings were repeated again and again. McWhorter read the -title of the case, Danner unshackled the prisoner, who stood up, gazing -dumbly at the floor, his lawyer asked the Court to be lenient, Lamborn -asked the Court to be severe, McWhorter twirled his gold glasses, looked -out of the window, made his little speech, guessed, and pronounced -sentence. The culprit sat down, held out his hands for the manacles, -then the click of the steel and the scratch of the judicial pen. It -grew monotonous. - -But just before the last man was called to book, John Eades, the -prosecutor, entered the court-room. At sight of him the young lawyers, -the loafers on the benches, even the judge looked up. - -Eades's tall figure had not yet lost the grace of youth, though it was -giving the first evidence that he had reached that period of life when -it would begin to gather weight. He was well dressed in the blue -clothes of a business man, and he was young enough at thirty-five to -belong to what may not too accurately be called the new school of -lawyers, growing up in a day when the law is changing from a profession -to a business, in distinction from the passing day of long coats of -professional black, of a gravity that frequently concealed a certain -profligacy, and, wherever it was successful, of native brilliancy that -could ignore application. Eades's dark hair was carefully parted above -his smooth brow; he had rather heavy eyebrows, a large nose, and thin, -tightly-set lips that gave strength and firmness to a clean-shaven face. -He whispered a word to his assistant, and then said: - -"May it please the Court, when the case of the State _versus_ Henry C. -Graves is reached, I should like to be heard." - -"The Court was about to dispose of that case, Mr. Eades," said the -judge, looking over his docket and fixing his glasses on his nose. - -"Very well," said Eades, glancing at the group of young attorneys. "Mr. -Metcalf, I believe, represents the defendant." - -The young lawyer thus indicated emerged from the group that seemed to -keep so closely together, and said: - -"Yes, your Honor, we'd like to be heard also." - -"Graves may stand up," said the judge, removing his glasses and tilting -back in his chair as if to listen to long arguments. - -Danner had been unlocking the handcuffs again, and the young man who had -been so frequently remarked in the line rose. His youthful face flushed -scarlet; he glanced about the court-room, saw Ward, drew a heavy breath, -and then fixed his eyes on the floor. - -Eades looked at Metcalf, who stepped forward and began: - -"In this case, your Honor, we desire to withdraw the plea of not guilty -and substitute a plea of guilty. And I should like to say a few words -for my client." - -"Proceed," said McWhorter. - -Metcalf, looking at his feet, took two or three steps forward, and then, -lifting his head, suddenly began: - -"Your Honor, this is the first time this young man has ever committed -any crime. He is but twenty-three years old, and he has always borne a -good reputation in this community. He is the sole support of a widowed -mother, and--yes, he is the sole support of a widowed mother. -He--a--has been for three years employed in the firm of Stephen Ward and -Company, and has always until--a--this unfortunate affair enjoyed the -confidence and esteem of his employers. He stands here now charged in -the indictment with embezzlement; he admits his guilt. He has, as I -say, never done wrong before--and I believe that this will be a lesson -to him which he will not forget. He desires to throw himself on the -mercy of the Court, and I ask the Court--to--a--be as lenient as -possible." - -"Has the State anything to say?" asked the judge. - -"May it please the Court," said Eades, speaking in his low, studied -tone, "we acquiesce in all that counsel for defense has said. This -young man, so far as the State knows, has never before committed a -crime. And yet, he has had the advantages of a good home, of an -excellent mother, and he had the best prospects in life that a young man -could wish. He was, as counsel has said, employed by Mr. Ward--who is -here--" Eades turned half-way around and indicated Ward, who rose and -felt that the time had come when he should go forward. "He was one of -Mr. Ward's trusted employees. Unfortunately, he began to speculate on -the Board himself, and it seems, in the stir of the recent excitement in -wheat, appropriated some nine hundred dollars of his employer's money. -Mr. Ward is not disposed to ideal harshly or in any vengeful spirit with -this young man; he has shown, indeed, the utmost forbearance. Nor is the -State disposed to deal in any such spirit with him; he, and especially -his mother, have my sympathy. But we feel that the law must be -vindicated and upheld, and while the State is disposed to leave with the -Court the fixing of such punishment as may be appropriate, and has no -thought of suggesting what the Court's duty shall be, still the State -feels that the punishment should be substantial." - -Eades finished and seated himself at the counsel table. The young -lawyers looked at him, and, whispering among themselves, said that they -considered the speech to have been very fitting and appropriate under -the circumstances. - -McWhorter deliberated a moment, and then, glancing toward the young man, -suddenly saw Ward, and, thinking that if Ward would speak he would have -more time to guess what punishment to give the boy, he said: - -"Mr. Ward, do you care to be heard?" - -Ward hesitated, changed color, and slowly advanced. He was not -accustomed to speaking in public, and this was an ordeal for him. He -came forward, halted, and then, clearing his throat, said: - -"I don't know that I have anything much to say, only this--that this is -a very painful experience to me. I"--he looked toward the youthful -culprit--"I was always fond of Henry; he was a good boy, and we all -liked him." The brown head seemed to sink between its shoulders. "Yes, -we all liked him, and I don't know that anything ever surprised me so -much as this thing did, or hurt me more. I didn't think it of him. I -feel sorry for his mother, too. I--" Ward hesitated and looked down at -the floor. - -The situation suddenly became distressing to every one in the -court-room. And then, with new effort, Ward went on: "I didn't like to -have him prosecuted, but we employ a great many men, many of them young -men, and it seemed to be my duty. I don't know; I've had my doubts. It -isn't the money--I don't care about that; I'd be willing, so far as I'm -concerned, to have him go free now. I hope, Judge, that you'll be as -easy on him, as merciful as possible. That's about all I can say." - -Ward sat down in the nearest chair, and the judge, knitting his brows, -glanced out of the window. Nearly every one glanced out of the window, -save Graves, who stood rigid, his eyes staring at the floor. Presently -McWhorter turned and said: - -"Graves, have you anything to say why the sentence of this court should -not be passed on you?" - -The youth raised his head, looked into McWhorter's eyes, and said: - -"No, sir." - -McWhorter turned suddenly and looked away. - -"The Court does not remember in all his career a more painful case than -this," he began. "That a young man of your training and connections, of -your advantages and prospects, should be standing here at the bar of -justice, a self-confessed embezzler, is sad, inexpressibly sad. The -Court realizes that you have done a manly thing in pleading guilty; it -speaks well for you that you were unwilling to add perjury to your other -crime. The Court will take that into consideration." McWhorter nodded -decisively. - -"The Court will also take into consideration your youth, and the fact -that this is your first offense. Your looks are in your favor. You are -a young man who, by proper, sober, industrious application, might easily -become a successful, honest, worthy citizen. Your employer speaks well -of you, and shows great patience, great forbearance; he is ready to -forgive you, and he even asks the Court to be merciful. The Court will -take that fact into consideration as well." - -Again McWhorter nodded decisively, and then, feeling that much was due -to a man of Ward's position, went on: - -"The Court wishes to say that you, Mr. Ward," he gave one of his nods in -that gentleman's direction, "have acted the part of a good citizen in -this affair. You have done your duty, as every citizen should, painful -as it was. The Court congratulates you." - -And then, having thought again of the painfulness of this duty, -McWhorter went on to tell how painful his own duty was; but he said it -would not do to allow sympathy to obscure judgment in such cases. He -talked at length on this theme, still unable to end, because he did not -know what sort of guess to make. And then he began to discuss the evils -of speculation, and when he saw that the reporters were scribbling -desperately to put down all he was saying, he extended his remarks and -delivered a long homily on speculation in certain of its forms, -characterizing it as one of the worst and most prevalent vices of the -day. After he had said all he could think of on this topic, he spoke to -Graves again, and explained to him the advantages of being in the -penitentiary, how by his behavior he might shorten his sentence by -several months, and how much time he would have for reflection and for -the formation of good resolutions. It seemed, indeed, before he had -done, that it was almost a deprivation not to be able to go to a -penitentiary. But finally he came to an end. Then he looked once more -out of the window, once more twirled his eye-glasses on their cord, and -then, turning about, came to the reserved climax of his long address. - -"The sentence of the Court, Mr. Graves, is that you be confined in the -penitentiary at hard labor for the term of one year, no part of said -sentence to consist of solitary confinement, and that you pay the costs -of this prosecution." - -The boy sat down, held out his wrists for the handcuffs, the steel -clicked, the pen scratched in the silence. - -Danner got up, marshaled his prisoners, and they marched out. The eyes -of every one in the court-room followed them, the eyes of Ward fixed on -Graves. As he looked, he saw a woman sitting on the last one of the -benches near the door. Her head was bowed on her hand, but as the -procession passed she raised her face, all red and swollen with weeping, -and, with a look of love and tenderness and despair, fixed her eyes on -Graves. The boy did not look at her, but marched by, his head -resolutely erect. - - - - - VII - - -Ward returned to his office and to his work, but all that day, in the -excitement on the floor of the exchange, during luncheon at the club, at -his desk, in his carriage going home at evening, he saw before him that -row of heads--the white poll of old Delaney, the woolly pate of the -negro, but, more than all, the brown head of Harry Graves. And when he -entered his home at evening the sadness of his reflections was still in -his face. - -"What's the matter this evening?" asked Elizabeth. "Nerves?" - -"Yes." - -"Been on the wrong side to-day?" - -"Yes, decidedly, I fear," said Ward. - -"What do you mean?" - -"I've sent a boy to the penitentiary." Ward felt a kind of relief, the -first he had felt all that day, in dealing thus bluntly, thus brutally, -with himself. Elizabeth knit her brows, and her eyes winked rapidly in -the puzzled expression that came to them. - -"You remember Harry Graves?" asked her father. - -"Oh, that young man?" - -"Yes, that young man. Well, I've sent him to the penitentiary." - -"What is that you say, Stephen?" asked Mrs. Ward, coming just then into -the room. She had heard his words, but she wished to hear them again. - -"I just said I'd sent Harry Graves to the penitentiary." - -"For how long?" asked Mrs. Ward, with a judicial desire for all the -facts, usually unnecessary in her judgments. - -"For one year." - -"Why, how easily he got off!" said Mrs. Ward. "And do hurry now, -Stephen. You're late." - -Elizabeth saw the pain her mother had been so unconscious of in her -father's face, and she gave Ward a little pat on the shoulder. - -"You dear old goose," she said, "to feel that way about it. Of course, -you didn't send him--it was John Eades. That's his business." - -But Ward shook his head, unconvinced. - -"Doubtless it will be a good thing for the young man," said Mrs. Ward. -"He has only himself to blame, anyway." - -But still Ward shook his head, and his wife looked at him with an -expression that showed her desire to help him out of his gloomy mood. - -"You know you could have done nothing else than what you did do," she -said. "Criminals must be punished; there is no way out of it. You're -morbid--you shouldn't feel so." - -But once more Ward gave that unconvinced shake of the head, and sighed. - -"See here," said Elizabeth, with the sternness her father liked to have -her employ with him, "you stop this right away." She shook him by the -shoulder. "You make me feel as if I had done something wrong myself; -you'll have us all feeling that we belong to the criminal classes -ourselves." - -"I've succeeded in making myself feel like a dog," Ward replied. - - - - - VIII - - -The county jail was in commotion. In the street outside a patrol wagon -was backed against the curb. The sleek coats of its bay horses were -moist with mist; and as the horses stamped fretfully in the slush, the -driver, muffled in his policeman's overcoat, spoke to them, begging them -to be patient, and each time looked back with a clouded face toward the -outer door of the jail. This door, innocent enough with its bright oak -panels and ground glass, was open. Inside, beyond the vestibule, beyond -another oaken door, stood Danner. He was in black, evidently his dress -for such occasions. He wore new, squeaking shoes, and his red face -showed the powder a barber had put on it half an hour before. On his -desk lay his overcoat, umbrella, and a small valise. The door of the -glass case on the wall, wherein were displayed all kinds of handcuffs, -nippers, squeezers, come-alongs and leather strait-jackets, together -with an impressive exhibit of monstrous steel keys, was open, and -several of its brass hooks were empty. Danner, as he stood in the middle -of the room, looked about as if to assure himself that he had forgotten -nothing, and then went to the window, drew out a revolver, broke it at -the breach, and carefully inspected its loads. That done, he snapped the -revolver together and slipped it into the holster that was slung to a -belt about his waist. He did not button the coat that concealed this -weapon. Then he looked through the window, saw the patrol wagon, took -out his watch and shouted angrily: - -"For God's sake, Hal, hurry up!" - -Danner's impatient admonition seemed to be directed through the great -barred door that opened off the other side of the office into the -prison, and from within there came the prompt and propitiatory reply of -the underling: - -"All right, Jim, in a minute." - -The open door, the evident preparation, the spirit of impending change, -the welcome break in the monotony of the jail's diurnal routine, all -were evidenced in the tumult that was going on beyond that huge gate of -thick steel bars. The voice of the under-turnkey had risen above the -din of other voices proceeding from the depths of hidden cells; there -was a constant shuffle of feet on cement floors, the rattle of keys, the -heavy tumbling of bolts, the clang and grating of steel as the shifting -of a lever opened and closed simultaneously all the doors of an entire -tier of cells. These noises seemed to excite the inmates, but presently -above the discord arose human cries, a chorus of good-bys, followed in a -moment by those messages that conventionally accompany all departures, -though these were delivered in all the various shades of sarcasm and -bitter irony. - -"Good-by!" - -"Remember us to the main screw!" - -"Think of us when you get to the big house!" - -Thus the voices called. - -And then suddenly, one voice rose above the rest, a fine barytone voice -that would have been beautiful had not it taken on a tone of mockery as -it sang: - -"We're going home! We're going home! -No more to sin and sorrow." - - -Then other voices took up the lines they had heard at the Sunday -services, and bawled the hymn in a horrible chorus. The sound -infuriated Danner, and he rushed to the barred door and shouted: - -"Shut up! Shut up!" and he poured out a volume of obscene oaths. From -inside came yells, derisive in the safety of anonymity. - -"You'll get nothing but bread and water for supper after that!" Danner -shouted back. He began to unlock the door, but, glancing at the desk, -changed his mind and turned and paced the floor. - -But now the noise of the talking, the shuffle of feet on the concrete -floors, came nearer. The door of the prison was unlocked; it swung -back, and there marched forth, walking sidewise, with difficulty, -because they were all chained together, thirteen men. Two of the -thirteen, the first and last, were Gregg and Poole, under-turnkeys. -Utter, Danner's first assistant, came last, carefully locking the door -behind him. - -"Line up here," said Danner angrily, "we haven't got all night!" - -The men stood in a row, and Danner, leaning over his desk, began to -check off their names. There was the white-haired Delaney, who had -seven years for burglary; Johnson, a negro who had been given fifteen -years for cutting with intent to kill; Simmons, five years for grand -larceny; Gunning, four years for housebreaking; Schypalski, a Pole, -three years for arson; Graves, the employee of Ward, one year for -embezzlement; McCarthy, and Hayes his partner, five years each for -burglary and larceny; "Deacon" Samuel, an old thief, and "New York -Willie," alias "The Kid," a pickpocket, who had each seven years for -larceny from the person; and Brice, who had eight years for robbery. -These men were to be taken to the penitentiary. Nearly all of them were -guilty of the crimes of which they had been convicted. - -The sheriff had detailed Danner to escort these prisoners to the -penitentiary, as he sometimes did when he did not care to make the trip -himself. Gregg would accompany Danner, while Poole would go only as far -as the railway station. Danner was anxious to be off; these trips to -the state capital were a great pleasure to him, and he had that nervous -dread of missing the train which comes over most people as they are -about to start away for a holiday. He was anxious to get away from the -jail before anything happened to stay him; he was anxious to be on the -moving train, for until then he could not feel himself safe from some -sudden recall. He had been thinking all day of the black-eyed girl in a -brothel not three blocks from the penitentiary, whom he expected to see -that night after he had turned the prisoners over to the warden. He -could scarcely keep his mind off her long enough to make his entries in -the jail record and to see that he had all his mittimuses in proper -order. - -The prisoners, standing there in a haggard row, wore the same clothes -they had had on when they appeared in court for sentence a few weeks -before; the same clothes they had had on when arrested. None of them, -of course, had any baggage. The little trinkets they had somehow -accumulated while in jail they had distributed that afternoon among -their friends who remained behind in the steel cages; all they had in -the world they had on their backs. Most of them were dressed miserably. -Gunning, indeed, who had been lying in jail since the previous June, -wore a straw hat, which made him so absurd that the Kid laughed when he -saw him, and said: - -"That's a swell lid you've got on there, Gunny, my boy. I'm proud to -fill in with your mob." - -Gunning tried to smile, and his face, already white with the prison -pallor, seemed to be made more ghastly by the mockery of mirth. - -The Kid was well dressed, as well dressed as Graves, who still wore the -good clothes he had always loved. Graves was white, too, but not as yet -with the prison pallor. He tried to bear himself bravely; he did not -wish to break down before his companions, all of whom had longer -sentences to serve than he. He dreaded the ride through the familiar -streets where a short time before he had walked in careless liberty, -full of the joy and hope and ambition of youth. He knew that countless -memories would stalk those streets, rising up unexpectedly at every -corner, following him to the station with mows and jeers; he tried to -bear himself bravely, and he did succeed in bearing himself grimly, but -he had an aching lump in his throat that would not let him speak. It -had been there ever since that hour in the afternoon when his mother had -squeezed her face between the bars of his cell to kiss him good-by again -and again. The prison had been strangely still while she was there, and -for a long time after she went even the Kid had been quiet and had -forgotten his joshing and his ribaldry. Graves had tried to be brave -for his mother's sake, and now he tried to be brave for appearances' -sake. He envied Delaney and the negro, who took it all stolidly, and he -might have envied the Kid, who took it all humorously, if it had not -been for what the Kid had said to him that afternoon about his own -mother. But now the Kid was cheerful again, and kept up the spirits of -all of them. To Graves it was like some horrible dream; everything in -the room--Danner, the turnkeys, the exhibit of jailer's instruments on -the wall--was unreal to him--everything save the hat-band that hurt his -temples, and the aching lump in his throat. His eyes began to smart, his -vision was blurred; instinctively he started to lift his hand to draw -his hat farther down on his forehead, but something jerked, and -Schypalski moved suddenly; then he remembered the handcuffs. The Pole -was dumb under it all, but Graves knew how Schypalski had felt that -afternoon when the young wife whom he had married but six months before -was there; he had wept and grown mad until he clawed at the bars that -separated them, and then he had mutely pressed his face against them and -kissed the young wife's lips, just as Graves's mother had kissed him. -And then the young wife would not leave, and Danner had to come and drag -her away across the cement floor. - -Johnson was stupefied; he had not known until that afternoon that he was -to be taken away so soon, and his wife had not known; she was to bring -the children on the next day to see him. For an hour Johnson had been -on the point of saying something; his lips would move, and he would lift -his eyes to Danner, but he seemed afraid to speak. - -Meanwhile, Danner was making his entries and looking over his commitment -papers. The Kid had begun to talk with Deacon Samuel. He and the -Deacon had been working together and had been arrested for the same -crime, but Danner had separated them in the jail so they could not -converse, and they were together now for the first time since their -arrest. The Kid bent his body forward and leaned out of the line to -look down at the Deacon. The old thief was smooth-faced and wore -gold-rimmed spectacles. When the Kid caught his mild, solemn eye, -looking out benignly from behind his glasses, a smile spread over his -face, and he said: - -"Well, old pard, we're fixed for the next five-spot." - -"Yes," said the Deacon. - -"How was it pulled off for you?" asked the Kid. - -"Oh, it was the same old thing over again," replied the Deacon. "They -had us lagged before the trial, but they had to make a flash of some -kind, so they put up twelve suckers and then they put a rapper up, and -that settled it." - -"There was nothing to it," said the Kid, in a tone that acquiesced in -all the Deacon had been saying. "It was that way with me. They were -out chewing the rag for five minutes, then they comes in, hands the -stiff to the old bloke in the rock, and he hands it to quills, who reads -it to me, and then the old punk-hunter made his spiel." - -"Did he?" said the Deacon, interested. "He didn't to me; he just slung -it at me in a lump." - -"Did Snaggles plant the slum?" - -"Naw," said the Deacon, "the poke was cold and the thimble was a -phoney." - -"Je's," exclaimed the Kid. "I never got wise! Well, then there was no -chance for him to spring us." - -"No." - -"It's tough to fall for a dead one," mused the Kid. - -The other prisoners had been respectfully silent while these two thieves -compared notes, but their conversation annoyed Danner. He could not -understand what they were saying, and this angered him, and besides, -their talking interfered with his entries, for he was excessively -stupid. - -"They gave me a young mouthpiece," the Kid was beginning, when Danner -raised his head and said: - -"Now you fellows cut that out, do you hear? I want to get my work done -and start." - -"I beg your pardon, papa," said the Kid; "we're anxious to start, too. -Did you engage a lower berth for me?" - -The line of miserable men laughed, not with mirth so much as for the -sake of any diversion, and at the laugh Danner's face and neck colored a -deeper red. The Kid saw this change in color and went on: - -"Please don't laugh, gentlemen; you're disturbing the main screw." And -then, lifting his eyebrows, he leaned forward a little and said: "Can't -I help you, papa?" - -Danner paid no attention, but he was rapidly growing angry. - -"I'd be glad to sling your ink for you, papa," the Kid went on, "and -anyway you'd better splice yourself in the middle of the line before we -start, or you might get lost. You know you're not used to traveling or -to the ways of the world--" - -"Cheese it, Kid," said the Deacon warningly. But the spirit of deviltry -which he had never been able to resist, and indeed had never tried very -hard to resist, was upon the Kid, and he went on: - -"Deac, pipe the preacher clothes! And the brand new kicks, and the -mush! They must have put him on the nut for ten ninety-eight." - -"He'll soak you with a sap if you don't cheese it," said the Deacon. - -"Oh, no, a nice old pappy guy like him wouldn't, would you?" the Kid -persisted. "He knows I'm speaking for his good. I want him to chain -himself to us so's he won't get lost; if he'd get away and fall off the -rattler, he'd never catch us again." - -"Well, I could catch you all right," said Danner, stopping and looking -up. - -"Why, my dear boy," said the Kid, "you couldn't track an elephant -through the snow." - -The line laughed again, even the under-turnkeys could not repress their -smiles. But Danner made a great effort that showed in the changing hues -of scarlet that swept over his face, and he choked down his anger. He -put on his overcoat and picked up his satchel, and said: - -"Come on, now." - -Utter unlocked the outer doors, and the line of men filed out. - -"Good-by, Bud," the Kid called to Utter. "If you ever get down to the -dump, look me up." - -The others bade Utter good-by, for they all liked him, and as the line -shuffled down the stone steps the men eagerly inhaled the fresh air they -had not breathed for weeks, save for the few minutes consumed in going -over to the court-house and back, and a thrill of gladness momentarily -ran through the line. Then the Kid called out: - -"Hold on, Danner!" - -He halted suddenly, and so jerked the whole line to an abrupt -standstill. "I've left my mackintosh in my room!" - -"If you don't shut up, I'll smash your jaw!" - -The Kid's laugh rang out in the air. - -"Yes, that'd be just about your size!" he said. - -Danner turned quickly toward the Kid, but just at that instant a dark -fluttering form flew out of the misty gloom and enveloped Schypalski; it -was his wife, who had been waiting all the afternoon outside the jail. -She clung to the Pole, who was as surprised as any of them, and she wept -and kissed him in her Slavonic fashion,--wept and kissed as only the -Slavs can weep and kiss. Then Danner, when he realized what had -occurred, seized her and flung her aside. - -"You damn bitch!" he said. "I'll show you!" - -"That's right, Danner," said the Kid. "You've got some one your size -now! Soak her again." - -Danner whirled, his anger loose now, and struck the Kid savagely in the -face. The line thrilled through its entire length; wild, vague hopes of -freedom suddenly blazed within the breasts of these men, and they tugged -at the chains that bound them. Utter, watching from the door, ran down -the walk, and Danner drew his revolver. - -"Get into that wagon!" he shouted, and then he hurled after them another -mouthful of the oaths he always had ready. The little sensation ended, -the hope fell dead, and the prisoners moved doggedly on. In a second -the Kid had recovered himself, and then, speaking thickly, for the blood -in his mouth, he said in a low voice: - -"Danner, you coward, I'll serve you out for that, if I get the chair for -it!" - -It was all still there in the gloom and the misty rain, save for the -shuffle of the feet, the occasional click of a handcuff chain, and -presently the sobbing of the Polish woman rising from the wet ground. -Danner hustled his line along, and a moment later they were clambering -up the steps of the patrol wagon. - -"Well, for God's sake!" exclaimed the driver, "I thought you'd never get -here! Did you want to keep these horses standing out all night in the -wet?" - -The men took their seats inside, those at the far end having to hold -their hands across the wagon because they were chained together, and the -wagon jolted and lurched as the driver started his team and went bowling -away for the station. The Pole was weeping. - -"The poor devil!" said the pickpocket. "That's a pretty little broad he -has. Can't you fellows do something for him? Give him a -cigarette--or--a chew--or--something." Their resources of comfort were -so few that the Kid could think of nothing more likely. - -Just behind the patrol wagon came a handsome brougham, whose progress -for an instant through the street which saw so few equipages of its rank -had been stayed by the patrol wagon, moving heavily about before it -started. The occupants of the brougham had seen the line come out of -the jail, had seen it halt, had seen Danner fling the Polish woman aside -and strike the pickpocket in the face; they had seen the men hustled -into the patrol wagon, and now, as it followed after, Elizabeth Ward -heard a voice call impudently: - -"All aboard for the stir!" - - - - - IX - - -The patrol wagon bowled rapidly onward, and the brougham followed -rapidly behind. The early darkness of the winter afternoon was -enveloping the world, and in the damp and heavy air the roar of the city -was intensified. The patrol wagon turned into Franklin Street and -disappeared in the confusion of vehicles. The street was crowded; -enormous trucks clung obstinately to the car tracks and only wrenched -themselves away when the clamor of the gongs became desperate, their -drivers swearing at the motormen, flinging angry glances at them. The -trolley-cars swept by, filled with shop-girls, clerks, working-men, -business men hanging to straps, reading evening papers in the brilliant -electric lights; men clung to the broad rear platforms; at every -crossing others attached themselves to these dark masses of humanity, -swarming like insects. The sidewalks were crowded, and, as far as one -could see, umbrellas balanced in the glistening mist. - -The brougham of the Wards succeeded presently in crossing Franklin -Street. - -"They were taking them to the penitentiary!" said Elizabeth, speaking -for the first time. - -"I presume they were," said her mother. - -"Harry Graves was among them," Elizabeth went on, staring widely before -her, her tone low and level. - -Mrs. Ward turned her head. - -"I saw his face--it stood out among the rest. I can never forget it!" - -She sat with her gloved hands in her lap. Her mother did not speak, but -she looked at her. - -"And that man--that big, brutal man, throwing that woman down, and then -striking that man in the face!" - -Mrs. Ward, not liking to encourage her daughter's mood, did not speak. - -"Oh, it makes me sick!" - -Elizabeth stretched forth her hand, drew a cut-glass bottle from its -case beside the little carriage clock and mirror, and, sinking back in -her cushioned corner, inhaled the stimulating odor of the salts. Then -her mother stiffened and said: - -"I don't know what Barker means, driving us down this way where we have -to endure such sights. You must control yourself, dear, and not allow -disagreeable things to get on your nerves." - -"But think of that poor boy, and the man who was struck, and that -woman!" - -"Probably they can not feel as keenly as--" - -"And think of all those men! Oh, their faces! Their faces! I can -never forget them!" - -Elizabeth continued to inhale the salts, her mind deeply intent on the -scene she had just witnessed. They were drawing near to Claybourne -Avenue now, and Mrs. Ward's spirits visibly improved at the sight of its -handsome lamp posts and the carriages flashing by, their rubber tires -rolling softly on the wet asphalt. - -"Well," she exclaimed, settling back on the cushions, "this is better! -I don't know what Barker was thinking of! He's very stupid at times!" - -The carriage joined the procession of other equipages of its kind. They -had left the street at the end of which could be seen the court-house -and the jail. The jail was blazing now with light, its iron bars -showing black across its illumined windows. And beyond the jail, as if -kept at bay by it, a huddle of low buildings stretched crazily along -Mosher's Lane, a squalid street that preserved in irony the name of one -of the city's earliest, richest and most respectable citizens, long -since deceased. The Lane twinkled with the bright lights of saloons, -the dim lights of pawnshops, the red lights of brothels--the slums, -dark, foul, full of disease and want and crime. Along the streets -passed and repassed shadowy, fugitive forms, negroes, Jews, men, and -women, and children, ragged, unkempt, pinched by cold and hunger. But -above all this, above the turmoil of Franklin Street and the reeking -life of the slums behind it, above the brilliantly lighted jail, stood -the court-house, gray in the dusk, its four corners shouldering out the -sky, its low dome calmly poised above the town. - - - - - X - - -"And how is your dear mother?" Miss Masters turned to Eades and wrought -her wry face into a smile. Her black eyes, which she seemed able to make -sparkle at will, were fixed on him; her black-gloved hands were crossed -primly in her lap, as she sat erect on the stiff chair Elizabeth Ward -had given her. - -"She's pretty well, thanks," said Eades. He had always disliked Miss -Masters, but he disliked her more than ever this Sunday afternoon in -April when he found her at the Wards'. It was a very inauspicious -beginning of his spring vacation, to which, after his hard work of the -winter term, he had looked forward with sentiments as tender as the -spring itself, just beginning to show in the sprightly green that dotted -the maple trees along Claybourne Avenue. - -"And your sister?" - -"She is very well, too." - -"Dear me!" the ugly little woman ran on, speaking with the affectation -she had cultivated for years enough to make it natural at last to her. -"It has been so long since I've seen either of them! I told mama to-day -that I didn't go to see even my old friends any more. Of course," she -added, lowering her already low tone to a level of hushed deprecation, -"we never go to see any of the new-comers; and lately there are so many, -one hardly knows the old town. Still, I feel that we of the old -families understand each other and are sufficient unto ourselves, as it -were, even if we allow years to elapse without seeing each other--don't -you, dear?" She turned briskly toward Elizabeth. - -Eades had hoped to find Elizabeth alone, and he felt it to be peculiarly -annoying that Miss Masters, whose exclusiveness kept her from visiting -even her friends of the older families, should have chosen for her -exception this particular Sunday afternoon out of all the other Sunday -afternoons at her command. He had found it impossible to talk with -Elizabeth in the way he had expected to talk to her, and he was so out -of sorts that he could not talk to Miss Masters, though that maiden -aristocrat of advancing years, strangely stimulated by his presence, -seemed efficient enough to do all the talking herself. - -Elizabeth was trying to find a position that would give her comfort, -without denoting any lapse from the dignity of posture due a family that -had been known in that city for nearly fifty years. But repose was -impossible to her that afternoon, and she nervously kept her hands in -motion, now grasping the back of her chair, now knitting them in her -lap, now raising one to her brow; once she was on the point of clasping -her knee, but this impulse frightened her so that she quickly pressed -her belt down, drew a deep breath, resolutely sat erect, crossed her -hands unnaturally in her lap, and smiled courageously at her visitors. -Eades noted how firm her hands were, and how white; they were indicative -of strength and character. She held her head a little to one side, -keeping up her pale smile of interest for Miss Masters, and Eades -thought that he should always think of her as she sat thus, in her soft -blue dress, her eyes winking rapidly, her dark hair parting of its own -accord. - -"And how do you like your new work, Mr. Eades?" Miss Masters was asking -him, and then, without waiting for a reply, she went on: "Do you know, I -believe I have not seen you since your election to congratulate you. -But we've been keeping watch; we have seen what the papers said." - -She smiled suggestively, and Eades inclined his head to acknowledge her -tribute. - -"I think we are to be congratulated on having you in that position. I -think it is very encouraging to find some of our _best_ people in public -office." - -There was a tribute surely in the emphasis she placed on the adjective, -and Eades inclined his head again. - -"I really think it was noble in you to accept. It must be very -disagreeable to be brought in contact with--you know!" She smiled and -nodded as if she could not speak the word. "And you have been so brave -and courageous through it all--you are surely to be admired!" - -Eades felt suddenly that Miss Masters was not so bad after all; he -relished this appreciation, which he took as an evidence of the opinion -prevailing in the best circles. He recalled a conversation he had -lately had with Elizabeth on this very subject, and, with a sudden -impulse to convict her, he said: - -"I'm afraid Miss Ward will hardly agree with you." - -Miss Masters turned to Elizabeth with an expression of incredulity and -surprise. - -"Oh, I am sure--" she began. - -"I believe she considers me harsh and cruel," Eades went on, smiling, -but looking intently at Elizabeth. - -"Oh, Mr. Eades is mistaken," she said; "I'm sure I agree with all the -nice things that are said of him." - -She detested the weakness of her quick retreat; and she detested more -the immediate conviction that it came from a certain fear of Eades. She -was beginning to feel a kind of mastery in his mere presence, so that -when she was near him she felt powerless to oppose him. The arguments -she always had ready for others, or for him--when he was gone--seemed -invariably to fail her when he was near; she had even gone to the length -of preparing them in advance for him, but when he came, when she saw -him, she could not even state them, and when she tried, they seemed so -weak and puerile and ineffectual as to deserve nothing more serious than -the tolerant smile with which he received and disposed of them. And -now, as this weakness came over her, she felt a fear, not for any of her -principles, which, after all, were but half-formed and superficial, but -a fear for herself, for her own being, and she was suddenly grateful for -Miss Masters's presence. Still, Eades and Miss Masters seemed to be -waiting, and she must say something. - -"It's only this," she said. "Not long ago I saw officers taking some -prisoners to the penitentiary. I can never forget the faces of those -men." - -Over her sensitive countenance there swept the memory of a pain, and she -had the effect of sinking in her straight chair. But Eades was gazing -steadily at her, a smile on his strong face, and Miss Masters was -saying: - -"But, dear me! The penitentiary is the place for such people, isn't it, -Mr. Eades?" - -"I think so," said Eades. His eyes were still fixed on Elizabeth, and -she looked away, groping in her mind for some other subject. Just then -the hall bell rang. - -Elizabeth was glad, for it was Marriott, and as she took his hand and -said simply, "Ah, Gordon," the light faded from Eades's face. - -Marriott's entrance dissolved the situation of a moment before. He -brought into the drawing-room, dimming now in the fading light, a new -atmosphere, something of the air of the spring. Miss Masters greeted -him with a manner divided between a certain distance, because Marriott -had not been born in that city, and a certain necessary approach to his -mere deserts as a man. Marriott did not notice this, but dropped on to -the divan. Elizabeth had taken a more comfortable chair. Marriott, -plainly, was not in the formal Sunday mood, just as he was not in the -formal Sunday dress. He had taken in Eades's frock-coat and white -waistcoat at a glance, and then looked down at his own dusty boots. - -"I've been hard at work to-day, Elizabeth," he said, turning to her with -a smile. - -"Working! You must remember the Sabbath day to keep it--" - -"The law wasn't made for lawyers, was it, John?" He appealed suddenly -to Eades, whose conventionality he always liked to shock, and Elizabeth -smiled, and Eades became very dignified. - -"I've been out to see our old friends, the Koerners," Marriott went on. - -"Oh, tell me about them!" said Elizabeth, leaning forward with eager -interest. "How is Gusta?" - -"Gusta's well, and prettier than ever. Jove! What a beauty that girl -is!" - -"Isn't she pretty?" said Elizabeth. "She was a delight in the house for -that very reason. And how is poor old Mr. Koerner--and all of them?" - -"Well," said Marriott, "Koerner's amputated leg is all knotted up with -rheumatism." - -Miss Masters's dark face was pinched in a scowl. - -"And Archie's in jail." - -"In jail!" Elizabeth dropped back in her chair. - -"Yes, in jail." - -"Why! What for?" - -"Well, he seems to belong to a gang that was arrested day before -yesterday for something or other." - -"There, Mr. Eades," said Elizabeth suddenly, "there now, you must let -Archie Koerner go." - -"Oh, I'll not let John get a chance at him," said Marriott. "He's -charged with a misdemeanor only--he'll go to the workhouse, if he goes -anywhere." - -"And you'll defend him?" - -"Oh, I suppose so," said Marriott wearily. "You've given me a whole -family of clients, Elizabeth. I went out to see the old man about his -case--I think we'll try it early this term." - -"These Koerners are a family in whom I've been interested," Elizabeth -suddenly thought to explain to Miss Masters, and then she told them of -Gusta, of old Koerner's accident, and of Archie's career as a soldier. - -"They've had a hard winter of it," said Marriott "The old man, of -course, can't work, and Archie, by his experience as a soldier, seems to -have been totally unfitted for everything--except shooting--and shooting -is against the law." - -Now that the conversation had taken this turn, Miss Masters moved to go. -She bade Marriott farewell coldly, and Eades warmly, and Elizabeth went -with her into the hall. Eades realized that all hope of a tête-à-tête -with Elizabeth had departed, and he and Marriott not long afterward left -to walk down town together. The sun was warm for the first time in -months, and the hope of the spring had brought the people out of doors. -Claybourne Avenue was crowded with carriages in which families solemnly -enjoyed their Sunday afternoon drives, as they had enjoyed their -stupefying dinners of roast beef four hours before. Electric -automobiles purred past, and now and then a huge touring car, its driver -in his goggles resembling some demon, plunged savagely along, its horn -honking hoarsely at every street crossing. The sidewalks were thronged -with pedestrians, young men whose lives had no other diversion than to -parade in their best clothes or stand on dusty down-town corners, smoke -cigars and watch the girls that tilted past. - -"That Miss Masters is a fool," said Marriott, when they had got away -from the house. - -"Yes, she is," Eades assented. "She was boring Miss Ward to death." - -"Poor Elizabeth!" said Marriott with a little laugh. "She is so patient, -and people do afflict her so." - -Eades did not like the way in which Marriott could speak of Elizabeth, -any more than he liked to hear Elizabeth address Marriott as Gordon. - -"I see the _Courier_ gave you a fine send-off this morning," Marriott -went on. "What a record you made! Not a single acquittal the whole -term!" - -Eades made no reply. He was wondering if Elizabeth had seen the -_Courier's_ editorial. In the morning he thought he would send her a -bunch of violets, and Tuesday-- - -"Your course is most popular," Marriott went on. And Eades looked at -him; he could not always understand Marriott, and he did not like to -have him speak of his course as if he had deliberately chosen it as a -mere matter of policy. - -"It's the right course," he said significantly. - -"Oh, I suppose so," Marriott replied. "Still--I really can't -congratulate you when I think of those poor devils--" - -"I haven't a bit of sympathy for them," said Eades coldly. This, he -thought, was where Elizabeth got those strange, improper notions. -Marriott should not be permitted-- - -Just then, in an automobile tearing by, they saw Dick Ward, and Eades -suddenly recalled a scene he had witnessed in the club the day before. - -"That young fellow's going an awful gait," he said suddenly. - -"Who, Dick?" - -"Yes, I saw him in the club yesterday--" - -"I know," said Marriott. "It's a shame. He's a nice little chap." - -"Can't you do something for him? He seems to like you." - -"What can I do?" - -"Well, can't you--speak to him?" - -"I never could preach," said Marriott. - -"Well," said Eades helplessly, "it's too bad." - -"Yes," said Marriott; "it would break their hearts--Ward's and -Elizabeth's." - - - - - XI - - -The Koerners, indeed, as Marriott said, had had a hard winter. The old -man, sustained at first by a foolish optimism, had expected that his -injury would be compensated immediately by heavy damages from the -railroad he had served so long. Marriott had begun suit, and then the -law began the slow and wearisome unfolding of its interminable delays. -Weeks and months went by and nothing was done. Koerner sent for -Marriott, and Marriott explained--the attorneys for the railroad company -had filed a demurrer, the docket was full, the case would not be reached -for a long time. Koerner could not understand; finally, he began to -doubt Marriott; some of his neighbors, with the suspicion natural to the -poor, hinted that Marriott might have been influenced by the company. -Koerner's leg, too, gave him incessant pain. All winter long he was -confined to the house, and the family grew tired of his monotonous -complainings. To add to this, Koerner was now constantly dunned by the -surgeon and by the authorities of the hospital; the railroad refused to -pay these bills because Koerner had brought suit; the bills, to a frugal -German like Koerner, were enormous, appalling. - -The Koerners, a year before, had bought the house in which they lived, -borrowing the money from a building and loan association. The agent of -the association, who had been so kind and obliging before the mortgage -was signed, was now sharp and severe; he had lately told Koerner that -unless he met the next instalment of interest he would set the family -out in the street. - -Koerner had saved some money from his wages, small as they were; but -this was going fast. During the winter Mrs. Koerner, though still -depressed and ill, had begun to do washings; the water, splashing over -her legs from the tubs in the cold wood-shed day after day, had given -her rheumatism. Gusta helped, of course, but with all they could do it -was hard to keep things going. Gusta tried to be cheerful, but this was -the hardest work of all; she often thought of the pleasant home of the -Wards, and wished she were back there. She would have gone back, -indeed, and given her father her wages, but there was much to do at -home--the children to look after, the house to keep, the meals to get, -the washings to do, and her father's leg to dress. Several times she -consulted Marriott about the legal entanglements into which the family -was being drawn; Marriott was wearied with the complications--the damage -suit, the mortgage, the threatened actions for the doctor's bills. The -law seemed to be snarling the Koerners in every one of its meshes, and -the family was settling under a Teutonic melancholia. - -Just at this time the law touched the family at another point--Archie -was arrested. For a while he had sought work, but his experience in the -army had unfitted him for every normal calling; he had acquired a taste -for excitement and adventure, and no peaceful pursuit could content him. -He would not return to the army because he had too keen a memory of the -indignities heaped on a common soldier by officers who had been trained -from youth to an utter disregard of all human relations save those that -were unreal and artificial. He had learned but one thing in the army, -and that was to shoot, and he could shoot well. Somehow he had secured -a revolver, a large one, thirty-eight caliber, and with this he was -constantly practising. - -Because Archie would not work, Koerner became angry with him; he was -constantly remonstrating with him and urging him to get something to do. -Archie took all his father's reproaches with his usual good nature, but -as the winter wore slowly on and the shadow of poverty deepened in the -home, the old man became more and more depressed, his treatment of his -son became more and more bitter. Finally Archie stayed away from home -to escape scolding. He spent his evenings in Nussbaum's saloon, where, -because he had been a soldier in the Philippines and was attractive and -good looking, he was a great favorite and presently a leader of the -young men who spent their evenings there. These young men were workers -in a machine shop; they had a baseball club called the "Vikings," and in -summer played games in the parks on Sundays. In the winter they spent -their evenings in the saloon, the only social center accessible to them; -here, besides playing pool, they drank beer, talked loudly, laughed -coarsely, sang, and now and then fought, very much like Vikings indeed. - -Later, roaming down town to Market Place, Archie made other -acquaintances, and these young men were even more like Vikings. They -were known as the Market Place gang, and they made their headquarters in -Billy Deno's saloon, though they were well known in all the little -saloons around the four sides of the Market. They were known, too, at -the police station, which stood grimly overlooking Market Place, for -they had committed many petty raids, and most of them had served terms -in the workhouse. One by one they were being sent to the penitentiary, -a distinction they seemed to prize, or which their fellows seemed to -prize in them when they got back. The gang had certain virtues,--it -stuck together; if a member was in trouble, the other members were all -willing to do anything to help him out. Usually this willingness took -the form of appearing in police court and swearing to an alibi, but they -had done this service so often that the police-court habitués and -officials smiled whenever they appeared. Their testimonies never -convinced the judge; but they were imperturbable and ever ready to -commit perjury in the cause. - -When Archie was out of money he could not buy cartridges for his -revolver, and he discovered by chance one afternoon, when he had drifted -into a little shooting gallery, that the proprietor was glad to give him -cartridges in return for an exhibition with the revolver, for the -exhibition drew a crowd, and the boozy sailors who lounged along the -Market in the evening were fascinated by Archie's skill and forthwith -emulated it. It was in this way that Archie met the members of the -Market Place gang, and finding them stronger, braver, more enterprising -spirits than the Vikings, he became one of them, spent his days and -nights with them, and visited Nussbaum's no more. He became the fast -friend of Spud Healy, the leader of the gang, and in this way he came to -be arrested. - -Besides Archie and Spud Healy, Red McGuire, Butch Corrigan, John Connor -and Mike Nailor were arrested. A Market Place grocer had missed a box -of dried herrings, reported it to the police, and the police, of course, -had arrested on suspicion such of the gang as they could find. - -Archie's arrest was a blow to Koerner. He viewed the matter from the -German standpoint, just as he viewed everything, even after his -thirty-seven years in America. It was a blow to his German reverence -for law, a reverence which his own discouraging experience of American -law could not impair, and it was a blow to his German conception of -parental authority; he denounced Archie, declaring that he would do -nothing for him even if he could. - -Gusta, in the great love she had for Archie, felt an instant desire to -go to him, but when she mentioned this, her father turned on her so -fiercely that she did not dare mention it again. On Monday morning, -when her work was done, Gusta, dressing herself in the clothes she had -not often had occasion to wear during the winter, stole out of the house -and went down town,--a disobedience in which she was abetted by her -mother. Half an hour later Gusta was standing bewildered in the main -entrance of the Market Place Police Station. The wide hall was vacant, -the old and faded signs on the walls, bearing in English and in German -instructions for police-court witnesses, could not aid her. From all -over the building she heard noises of various activities,--the hum of -the police court, the sound of voices, from some near-by room a laugh. -She went on and presently found an open door, and within she saw several -officers in uniform, with handsome badges on their breasts and stars on -the velvet collars of their coats. As she hesitated before this door, a -policeman noticed her, and his coarse face lighted up with a suggestive -expression as he studied the curves of her figure. He planted himself -directly in front of her, his big figure blocking the way. - -"I'd like to speak to my brother, if I can," said Gusta. "He's -arrested." - -She colored and her eyes fell. The policeman's eyes gleamed. - -"What's his name, Miss?" he asked. - -"Archie Koerner." - -"What's he in fer?" - -"I can't tell you, sir." - -The policeman looked at her boldly, and then he took her round arm in -his big hand and turned her toward the open door. - -"Inspector," he said, "this girl wants to see her brother. What's his -name?" he asked again, turning to Gusta. - -"Koerner, sir," said Gusta, speaking to the scowling inspector, "Archie -Koerner." - -Inspector McFee, an old officer who had been on the police force for -twenty-five years, eyed her suspiciously. His short hair was dappled -with gray, and his mustache was clipped squarely and severely on a level -with his upper lip. Gusta had even greater fear of him than she had of -the policeman, who now released his hold of her arm. Instinctively she -drew away from him. - -"Archie Koerner, eh?" said the inspector in a gruff voice. - -At the name, a huge man, swart and hairy, in civilian's dress, standing -by one of the big windows, turned suddenly and glowered at Gusta from -under thick black eyebrows. His hair, black and coarse and closely -clipped, bristled almost low enough on his narrow forehead to meet his -heavy brows. He had a flat nose, and beneath, half encircling his -broad, deep mouth, was a black mustache, stubbed and not much larger -than his eyebrows. His jaw was square and heavy. A gleam showed in his -small black eyes and gave a curiously sinister aspect to his black -visage. - -"What's that about Koerner?" he said, coming forward aggressively. -Gusta shrank from him. She felt herself in the midst of powerful, angry -foes. - -"You say he's your brother?" asked the inspector. - -"Yes, sir." - -"What do you want of him?" - -"Oh, I just want to see him, sir," Gusta said. "I just want to talk to -him a minute--that's all, sir." - -Her blue eyes were swimming with tears. - -"Hold on a minute," said the man of the dark visage. He went up to the -inspector, whispered to him a moment. The inspector listened, finally -nodded, then took up a tube that hung by his desk and blew into it. Far -away a whistle shrilled. - -"Let this girl see Koerner," he said, speaking into the tube, "in -Kouka's presence." Then, dropping the tube, he said to Gusta: - -"Go down-stairs--you can see him." - -The policeman took her by the arm again, and led her down the hall and -down the stairs to the turnkey's room. The turnkey unlocked a heavy -door and tugged it open; inside, in a little square vestibule, Gusta saw -a dim gas-jet burning. The turnkey called: - -"Koerner!" - -Then he turned to Gusta and said: - -"This way." - -She went timidly into the vestibule and found herself facing a heavy -door, crossed with iron bars. On the other side of the bars was the -face of Archie. - -"Hello, Gusta," he said. - -She had lifted her skirts a little; the floor seemed to her unclean. -The odor of disinfectants, which, strong as it was, could not overpower -the other odors it was intended to annihilate, came strongly to her. -Through the bars she had a glimpse of high whitewashed walls, pierced -near the top with narrow windows dirty beyond all hope. On the other -side was a row of cells, their barred doors now swinging open. Along -the wall miserable figures were stretched on a bench. Far back, where -the prison grew dark as night, other figures slouched, and she saw -strange, haggard faces peering curiously at her out of the gloom. - -"Hello, Gusta," Archie said. - -She felt that she should take his hand, but she disliked to thrust it -through the bars. Still she did so. In slipping her hand through to -take Archie's hand it touched the iron, which was cold and soft as if -with some foul grease. - -"Oh, Archie," she said, "what has happened?" - -"Search me," he said, "I don't know what I'm here for. Ask Detective -Kouka there. He run me in." - -Gusta turned. The black-visaged man was standing beside her. Archie -glared at the detective in open hatred, and Kouka sneered but controlled -himself, and looked away as if, after all, he were far above such -things. - -Then they were silent, for Gusta could not speak. - -"How did you hear of the pinch?" asked Archie presently. - -"Mrs. Schopfle was in--she told us," replied Gusta. - -"What did the old man say?" - -"Oh, Archie! He's awful mad!" - -Archie hung his head and meditatively fitted the toe of his boot into -one of the squares made by the crossed bars at the bottom of the door. - -"Say, Gusta," he said, "you tell him I'm in wrong; will you? Honest to -God, I am!" - -He raised his face suddenly and held it close to the bars. - -"I will, Archie," she said. - -"And how's ma?" - -"Oh, she's pretty well." Gusta could not say the things she wished; she -felt the presence of Kouka. - -"Say, Gusta," said Archie, "see Mr. Marriott; tell him to come down -here; I want him to take my case. I'll work and pay him when I get out. -Say, Gusta," he went on, "tell him to come down this afternoon. My God, -I've got to get out of here! Will you? You know where his office is?" - -"I'll find it," said Gusta. - -"It's in the Wayne Building." - -Gusta tried to look at Archie; she tried to keep her eyes on his face, -on his tumbled yellow hair, on his broad shoulders, broader still -because his coat and waistcoat were off, and his white throat was -revealed by his open shirt. But she found it hard, because her eyes -were constantly challenged by the sights beyond--the cell doors, the men -sleeping off their liquor, the restless figures that haunted the -shadows, the white faces peering out of the gloom. The smell that came -from within was beginning to sicken her. - -"Oh, Archie," she said, "it must be awful in there!" - -Archie became suddenly enraged - -"Awful?" he said. "It's hell! This place ain't fit for a dog to stay -in. Why, Gusta, it's alive--it's crawlin'! That's what it is! I didn't -sleep a wink last night! Not a wink! Say, Gusta," he grasped the bars, -pressed his face against them, "see Mr. Marriott and tell him to get me -out of here. Will you? See him, will you?" - -"I will, Archie," she said. "Ill go right away." - -She was eager now to leave, for she had already turned sick with -loathing. - -"And say, Gusta," Archie said, "get me some cigarettes and send 'em down -by Marriott." - -"All right," she said. She was backing away. - -"Good-by," he called. The turnkey was locking the door on him. - -Outside, Gusta leaned a moment against the wall of the building, -breathing in the outdoor air; presently she went on, but it was long -before she could cleanse her mouth of the taste or her nostrils of the -odor of the foul air of that prison in which her brother was locked. - - - - - XII - - -Gusta hurried out of the alley as fast as she could go; she wished to -get away from the police station, and to forget the faces of those men -in prison. It was now nine o'clock and the activity of the Market was -waning; the few gardener's wagons that lingered with the remnants of -their loads were but a suggestion of the hundreds of wagons that had -packed the square before the dawn. Under the shed, a block long, a -constable was offering at public vendue the household goods of some -widow who had been evicted; the torn and rusty mattresses, broken chairs -and an old bed were going for scarcely enough to pay the costs; a -little, blue-bearded man, who had forced the sale, stood by sharply -watching, ready to bid the things in himself if the dealers in -second-hand furniture should not offer enough. Gusta hurried on, past -butcher-shops, past small saloons, and she hurried faster because every -one--the policemen, the second-hand dealers, the drivers of the -market-wagons, the butchers in their blood-stained smock frocks--turned -to look at her. It was three blocks to the Wayne Building, rearing its -fifteen stories aloft from the roaring tide of business at its feet, and -Gusta was glad to lose herself in the crowds that swarmed along the -street. - -The waiting-room of Marriott's office was filled; the door which was -lettered with his name was closed, and Gusta had to wait. She joined -the group that sat silent in the chairs along the walls, and watched the -girl with the yellow hair at the typewriter. The girl's white fingers -twinkled over the keys; the little bell tinkled and the girl snatched -back the carriage of the machine with a swift grating sound; she wrote -furiously, and Gusta was fascinated. She wished she might be a -typewriter; it must be so much easier to sit here in this pleasant, -sunlit office, high above the cares and turmoil of the world, and write -on that beautiful machine; so much easier than to toil in a poor, -unhappy home with a mother ill, a father maimed and racked by pains so -that he was always morose and cross, a brother in jail, and always -work--the thankless task of washing at a tub, of getting meals when -there was little food to get them with. Gusta thought she might master -the machine, but no--her heart sank--she could not spell nor understand -all the long words the lawyers used, so that was hopeless. - -After a while the door marked "Mr. Marriott" opened, and a man stepped -out, a well-dressed man, with an air of prosperousness; he glanced at -the yellow-haired typewriter as he passed out of the office. Marriott -was standing in his door, looking at the line of waiting clients; his -face was worn and tired. He seemed to hesitate an instant, then he -nodded to one of the waiting women, and she rose and entered the private -office. Just as Marriott was closing the door, he saw Gusta and smiled, -and Gusta was cheered; it was the first friendly smile she had seen that -day. - -She had to wait two hours. The men did not detain Marriott long, but -the women remained in his private office an interminable time, and -whenever he opened his door to dismiss one of them, he took out his -watch and looked at it. At last, however, when all had gone, he said: - -"Well, Gusta, what can I do for you?" He dropped into his chair, swung -round to face her, rested one elbow on the top of the desk and leaned -his head in his hand. - -"I came to see about Archie." - -Marriott felt the deadly ennui that came over him at the thought of -these petty criminal cases. The crimes were so small, so stupid, and so -squalid, they had nothing to excuse them, not even the picturesque -quality of adventure that by some sophistry might extenuate crimes of a -more enterprising and dangerous class. They were so hopeless, too, and -Marriott could hardly keep a straight face while he defended the -perpetrators, and yet he allowed himself to be drawn into them; he found -himself constantly pleading for some poor devil who had neither money to -pay him nor the decency to thank him. Sometimes he wondered why he did -it, and whenever he wondered he decided that he would never take another -such case. Then the telephone would ring, and before he knew it he -would be in police court making another poor devil's cause his own, -while more important litigation must wait--for the petty criminals were -always in urgent need; the law would not stay for them nor abide their -convenience; with them it was imperative, implacable, insistent, as if -to dress the balance for its delay and complaisance with its larger -criminals. Marriott often thought it over, and he had thought enough to -recognize in these poor law-breakers a certain essential innocence; they -were so sublimely foolish, so illogical, they made such lavish sacrifice -of all that was best in their natures; they lived so hardly, so -desperately; they paid such tremendous prices and got so little; they -were so unobservant, they learned nothing by experience. And yet with -one another they were so kind, so considerate, so loyal, that it seemed -hard to realize that they could be so unkind and so disloyal to the rest -of mankind. In his instinctive love of human nature, their very -hopelessness and helplessness appealed to him. - -"Mr. Marriott, do you think he is guilty?" Gusta was asking. - -"Guilty?" said Marriott, automatically repeating the word. "Guilty? -What difference does that make?" - -"Oh, Mr. Marriott!" the girl exclaimed, her blue eyes widening. -"Surely, it makes all the difference in the world!" - -"To you?" - -"Why--yes--shouldn't it?" - -"No, it shouldn't, Gusta, and what's more, it doesn't. And it doesn't to -me, either. You don't want him sent to prison even if he is guilty, do -you?" - -"N--no," Gusta hesitated as she assented to the heresy. - -"No, of course you don't. Because, Gusta, we know him--we know he's all -right, don't we, no matter what he has done? Just as we know that we -ourselves are all right when we do bad things--isn't that it?" - -The girl was sitting with her yellow head bent; she was trying to think. - -"But father would say--" - -"Oh, yes," Marriott laughed, "father would say and grandfather would -say, too--that's just the trouble. Father got his notions from the Old -World, but we--Gusta, we know more than father or grandfather in this -country." - -Marriott enjoyed the discomfiture that Gusta plainly showed in her -inability to understand in the least what he was saying. He felt a -little mean about it, for he recognized that he was speaking for his own -benefit rather than for hers; he had wished Elizabeth might be there to -hear him. - -"I don't know much about it, Mr. Marriott," Gusta said presently, "but -when will you go to see him?" - -"Oh, I'll try to get down this afternoon." - -"All right. He told me to ask you please to bring him some cigarettes. -Of course," she was going on in an apologetic tone, but Marriott cut her -short: - -"Oh, he wants cigarettes? Well, I'll take them to him." - -Then they talked the futilities which were all such a case could -inspire, and Marriott, looking at his watch, made Gusta feel that she -should go. But the world wore a new aspect for her when she left -Marriott's office. The spring sun was warm now, and she felt that she -had the right to glory in it. The crowds in the streets seemed human -and near, not far away and strange as they had been before; she felt -that she had somehow been restored to her own rights in life. She had -not understood Marriott's philosophy in the least, but she went away -with the memory of his face and the memory of his smile; she could not -realize her thoughts; it was a feeling more than anything else, but she -knew that here was one man, at least, who believed in her brother, and -it seemed that he was determined to believe in him no matter what the -brother did; and he believed in her, too, and this was everything--this -made the whole world glad, just as the sun made the whole world glad -that morning. - -But Gusta's heart sank at the thought of going home; there was nothing -there now but discord and toil. The excitement, the change of the -morning, the little interview with Marriott, had served to divert her, -and now the thought of returning to that dull and wearisome routine was -more than ever distasteful. It was nearly noon, and she would be -expected, but she did not like to lose these impressions, and she did -not like to leave this warm sunshine, these busy, moving streets, this -contact with active life, and so she wandered on out Claybourne Avenue. -There was slowly taking form within her a notion of eking out her -pleasure by going to see Elizabeth Ward, but she did not let the thought -wholly take form; rather she let it lie dormant under her other -thoughts. She walked along in the sunlight and looked at the -automobiles that went trumpeting by, at the carriages rolling home with -their aristocratic mistresses lolling on their cushions. Gusta found a -pleasure in recognizing many of these women; she had opened the Wards' -big front door to them, she had served them with tea, or at dinner; she -had heard their subdued laughter; she had covertly inspected their -toilets; some of them had glanced for an instant into her eyes and -thanked her for some little service. And then she could recall things -she had heard them say, bits of gossip, or scandal, some of which gave -her pleasure, others feelings of hatred and disgust. A rosy young -matron drove by in a phaeton, with her pretty children piled about her -feet, and the sight pleased Gusta. She smiled and hurried on with -quickened step. - -At last she saw the familiar house, and then to her joy she saw -Elizabeth on the veranda, leaning against one of the pillars, evidently -taking the air, enjoying the sun and the spring. Elizabeth saw Gusta, -too, and her eyes brightened. - -"Why, Gusta!" she said. "Is that you?" - -Gusta stood on the steps and looked up at Elizabeth. Her face was rosy -with embarrassment and pleasure. Elizabeth perched on the rail of the -veranda and examined the vine of Virginia roses that had not yet begun -to put forth. - -"And how are you getting along?" she said. "How are they all at home?" - -Gusta told her of her father and of her mother and of the children. - -Elizabeth tried to talk to her; she was fond of her, but there seemed to -be nothing to talk about. She knew, too, how Gusta adored her, and she -felt that she must always retain this adoration, and constantly prove -her kindness to Gusta. But the conversation was nothing but a series of -questions she extorted from herself by a continued effort that quickly -wearied her, especially as Gusta's replies were delivered so promptly -and so laconically that she could not think of other questions fast -enough. At last she said: - -"And how's Archie?" - -And then instantly she remembered that Archie was in prison. Her heart -smote her for her thoughtlessness. Gusta's head was hanging. - -"I've just been to see him," she said. - -"I wished to hear of him, Gusta," Elizabeth said, trying by her tone to -destroy the quality of her first question. "I spoke to Mr. Marriott -about him--I'm sure he'll get him off." - -Gusta made no reply, and Elizabeth saw that her tears were falling. - -[Illustration: Elizabeth saw that her tears were falling] - -"Come, Gusta," she said sympathetically, "you mustn't feel bad." - -The girl suddenly looked at her, her eyes full of tears. - -"Oh, Miss Elizabeth," she said, "if you could only know! To see him -down there--in that place! Such a thing never happened to us before!" - -"But I'm sure it'll all come out right in the end--I'm sure of that. -There must have been some mistake. Tell me all about it." - -And then Gusta told her the whole story. - -"You don't know how it feels, Miss Elizabeth," she said when she had -done, "to have your own brother--such a thing couldn't happen to -you--here." Gusta glanced about her, taking in at a glance, as it were, -the large house, and all its luxury and refinement and riches, as if -these things were insurmountable barriers to such misfortune and -disgrace. - -Elizabeth saw the glance, and some way, suddenly, the light and warmth -went out of the spring day for her. The two girls looked at each other -a moment, then they looked away, and there was silence. Elizabeth's -brows were contracted; in her eyes there was a look of pain. - -When Gusta had gone Elizabeth went indoors, but her heart was heavy. -She tried to throw off the feeling, but could not. She told herself -that it was her imagination, always half morbid, but this did not -satisfy her. She was silent at the luncheon-table until her mother said: - -"Elizabeth, what in the world ails you?" - -"Oh; nothing." - -"I know something does," insisted Mrs. Ward. - -Elizabeth, with her head inclined, was outlining with the prong of a -fork the pattern on the salad bowl. - -"Gusta has been here, telling me her troubles." - -"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Mrs. Ward. - -"You know her brother has been arrested." - -"What for?" - -"Stealing." - -"Indeed! Well! I do wish she'd keep away! I'm sure I don't know what -we've done that we should have such things brought into our house!" - -"But it's too bad," said Elizabeth. "The young man--" - -"Yes, the young man! If he'd go to work and earn an honest living, he -wouldn't be arrested for stealing!" - -"I was just thinking--" Elizabeth finished the pattern on the salad -bowl and inclined her head on the other side, as if she had really -designed the pattern and were studying the effect of her finished -work,--"that if Dick--" - -"Why, Elizabeth!" Mrs. Ward cried. "How can you say such a thing?" - -Elizabeth smiled, and the smile irritated her mother. - -"I'm sure it's entirely different!" Mrs. Ward went on. "Dick does not -belong to that class at all!" - - - - - XIII - - -The truth was that Elizabeth had been worried for days about Dick. A -few evenings before, Ward, who took counsel of his daughter rather than -of his wife in such affairs, had told her of his concern about his son. - -"I don't know what to do with the boy," he had said. "He seems to have -no interest in anything; he tired of school, and he tired of college; -and now he is of age and--doing nothing." - -She remembered how he had sat there, puffing at his cigar as if that -could assist him to some conclusion. - -"I tried him in the office for a while, you know, but he did not seem to -take it seriously--of course, it wasn't really serious; the work went on -as well without him as with him. I guess he knew that." - -Elizabeth sat and thought, but the problem which her father had put to -her immediately overpowered her; there seemed to be no solution at -all--she could not even arrange its terms in her mind, and she was -silent, yet her silence was charged with sympathy. - -"I've talked to him, but that does no good. I've pleaded with him, but -that does no good. I tried giving him unlimited money, then I put him -on an allowance, then I cut him off altogether--it was just the same." - -Ward smoked a moment in silence. - -"I've thought of every known profession. He says he doesn't want to be -a lawyer or a doctor; he has no taste for mechanics, and he seems to -have no interest in business. I've thought of sending him abroad, or -out West, but he doesn't want to do that." - -And again the silence and the smoking and the pain. - -"He's out to-night--where, I don't know. I don't want to know--I'm -afraid to know!" - -There was something wild, appealing and pathetic in this cry wrung from -a father's heart. Elizabeth had looked up quickly, her own heart aching -with pity. She recalled how he had said: - -"Your mother--she doesn't understand; I don't know that I want her to; -she idolizes the boy; she thinks he can't do wrong." - -And then Elizabeth had slipped her arm about his neck, and, leaning -over, had placed her cheek against his; her tears had come, and she had -felt that his tears had come; he had patted her hand. They had sat thus -for a long while. - -"Poor boy!" Ward had said again. "He's only making trouble for himself. -I'd like to help him, but somehow, Bess, I can't get next to him; when I -try to talk to him, when I try to be confidential and all -that--something comes between us, and I can't say it right. I can't talk -to him as I could to any other man. I don't know why it is; I sometimes -think that it's all my fault, that I haven't reared him right, that I -haven't done my duty by him, and yet, God knows, I've tried!" - -"Oh, papa," she had replied protestingly, "you mustn't blame -yourself--you've done everything." - -"He's really a good boy," Ward had gone on irrelevantly, ignoring -himself in his large, unselfish thought for his son. "He's kind and -generous, and he means well enough--and--and--I think he likes me." - -This had touched her to the quick, and she had wept softly, stroking her -father's cheek. - -"Can't you--couldn't you--" he began. "Do you think you could talk to -him, Bess?" - -"I'll try," she said, and just then her brother had come into the room, -rosy and happy and unsuspecting, and their confidences were at an end. - -Ward did not realize, of course, that in asking Elizabeth to speak to -Dick he was laying a heavy burden on her. She had promised her father -in a kind of pity for him, a pity which sprang from her great love; but -as she thought it over, wondering what she was to say, the ordeal grew -greater and greater--greater than any she had ever had to encounter. -For several days she was spared the necessity of redeeming her promise, -for Dick was so little at home, and fortunately, as Elizabeth felt, when -he was there the circumstances were not propitious. Then she kept -putting it off, and putting it off; and the days went by. Her father -had not recurred to the subject; having once opened his heart, he seemed -suddenly to have closed it, even against her. His attitude was such -that she felt she could not talk the matter over with him; if she could -she might have asked him to give her back her promise. She could not -talk it over with her mother, and she longed to talk it over with some -one. One evening she had an impulse to tell Marriott about it. She -knew that he could sympathize with her, and, what was more, she knew -that he could sympathize with Dick, whereas she could not sympathize -with Dick at all. Though she laughed, and sang, and read, and talked, -and drove, and lived her customary life, the subject was always in her -thoughts. Finally she discovered that she was adopting little -subterfuges in order to evade it, and she became disgusted with herself. -She had morbid fears that her character would give way under the strain. -At night she lay awake waiting, as she knew her father must be waiting, -for the ratchet of Dick's key in the night-latch. - -In the many different ways she imagined herself approaching the subject -with Dick, in the many different conversations she planned, she always -found herself facing an impenetrable barrier--she did not know with what -she was to reproach him, with what wrong she was to charge him. She -conceived of the whole affair, as the Anglo-Saxon mind feels it must -always deal with wrong, in the forensic form--indictment, trial, -judgment, execution. But after all, what had Dick done? As she saw him -coming and going through the house, at the table, or elsewhere, he was -still the same Dick--and this perplexed her; for, looking at him through -the medium of her talk with her father, Dick seemed to be something else -than her brother; he seemed to have changed into something bad. Thus -his misdeeds magnified themselves to her mind, and she thought of them -instead of him, of the sin instead of the sinner. - -That night Dick did not come at all. In the morning when her father -appeared, Elizabeth saw that he was haggard and old. As he walked -heavily toward his waiting carriage, her love and pity for him received -a sudden impetus. - -Dick did not return until the next evening, and the following morning he -came down just as his father was leaving the house. If Ward heard his -son's step on the stairs, he did not turn, but went on out, got into his -brougham, and sank back wearily on its cushions. It happened that -Elizabeth came into the hall at that moment; she saw her father, and she -saw her brother coming down the stairs, dressed faultlessly in new -clothes and smoking a cigarette. As Elizabeth saw him, so easy and -unconcerned, her anger suddenly blazed out, her eyes flashed, and she -took one quick step toward him. His fresh, ruddy face wore a smile, but -as she confronted him and held out one arm in dramatic rigidity and -pointed toward her father, Dick halted and his smile faded. - -"Look at him!" Elizabeth said, pointing to her father. "Look at him! Do -you know what you're doing?" - -"Why, Bess"--Dick began, surprised. - -"You're breaking his heart, that's what you're doing!" - -She stood there, her eyes menacing, her face flushed, her arm extended. -The carriage was rolling down the drive and her father had gone, but -Elizabeth still had the vision of his bent frame as he got into his -carriage. - -"Did you see him?" she went on. "Did you see how he's aging, how much -whiter his hair has grown in the last few weeks, how his figure has -bent? You're killing him, that's what you're doing, killing him inch by -inch. Why can't you do it quick, all at once, and be done with it? That -would be kinder, more merciful!" - -Her lip curled in sarcasm. Dick stood by the newel-post, his face -white, his lips open as if to speak. - -"You spend your days in idleness and your nights in dissipation. You -won't work. You won't do anything. You are disgracing your family and -your name. Can't you see it, or won't you?" - -"Why, Bess," Dick began, "what's the--" - -She looked at him a moment; he was like her mother, so good-natured, so -slow to anger. His attitude, his expression, infuriated her; words -seemed to have no effect, and in her fury she felt that she must make -him see, that she must force him to realize what he was doing--force him -to acknowledge his fault--force him to be good. - -"Of course, you'd just stand there!" she said. "Why don't you say -something? You know what you're doing--you know it better than I. I -should think you'd be ashamed to look a sister in the face!" - -Dick had seen Elizabeth angry before, but never quite like this. Slowly -within him his own anger was mounting. What right, he thought, had she -to take him thus to task--him, a man? He drew himself up, his face -suddenly lost its pallor and a flush of scarlet mottled it. Strangely, -in that same instant, Elizabeth's face became very white. - -"Look here," he said, speaking in a heavy voice, "I don't want any more -of this from you!" - -For an instant there was something menacing in his manner, and then he -walked away and left her. - -Elizabeth stood a moment, trembling violently. He had gone into the -dining-room; he was talking with his mother in low tones. Elizabeth -went up the stairs to her room and closed the door, and then a great -wave of moral sickness swept over her. She sat down, trying to compose -herself, trying to still her nerves. The whole swift scene with her -brother flashed before her in all its squalor. Had she acted well or -rightly? Was her anger what is called a righteous indignation? She was -sure that she had acted for the best, for her father in the first place, -and for Dick more than all, but it was suddenly revealed to her that she -had failed; she had not touched his heart at all; she had expended all -her force, and it was utterly lost; she had failed--failed. This word -repeated itself in her brain. She tried to think, but her brain was in -turmoil; she could think but one thing--she had failed. She bent her -head and wept. - - - - - XIV - - -Archie Koerner and Spud Healy and the others of the gang lay in prison -for a week; each morning they were taken with other prisoners to the -bull-pen, and there they would stand--for an hour, two hours, three -hours--and look through the heavy wire screen at officers, lawyers, -court attachés, witnesses and prosecutors who passed and repassed, -peering at them as at caged animals, some curiously, some in hatred and -revenge, some with fear, now and then one with pity. The session would -end, they would be taken downstairs again--the police were not yet -ready. But finally, one Saturday morning, they were taken into the -court-room and arraigned. Bostwick, the judge, heard a part of the -evidence; it was nearly noon, and court never sat on Saturday -afternoons. Bostwick and the prosecutor both were very anxious to get -away for their half-holiday. The session had been long and trying, the -morning was sultry, a summer day had fallen unexpectedly in the midst of -the spring. Bostwick was uncomfortable in his heavy clothes. He -hurried the hearing and sent them all to the workhouse for thirty days, -and fined them the costs. Marriott had realized the hopelessness of the -case from the first; even he was glad the hearing was over, glad to have -Archie off his mind. - -The little trial was but a trivial incident in the life of the city; -Bostwick and the prosecutor, to whom it was but a part of the day's -work, forgot it in the zest of ordering a luncheon; the police forgot -it, excepting Kouka, who boasted to the reporters and felt important for -a day. Frisby, a little lawyer with a catarrhal voice, thought of it -long enough to be thankful that he had demanded his fee in advance from -the mother of the boy he had defended--it took her last cent and made -her go hungry over Sunday. Back on the Flats, in the shadow of the -beautiful spire of St. Francis, there were cries, Gaelic lamentations, -keening, counting of beads and prayers to the Virgin. The reporters -made paragraphs for their newspapers, writing in the flippant spirit -with which they had been taught to treat the daily tragedies of the -police court. Some people scanned the paragraphs, and life passed by on -the other side; the crowds of the city surged and swayed, and Sunday -dawned with the church-bells ringing peacefully. - -The Koerner family had the news that evening from Jerry Crowley, the -policeman who had recently been assigned to that beat, his predecessor, -Miller, having been suspended for drunkenness. Crowley had had a hard -time of it ever since he came on the beat. The vicinity was German and -he was Irish, and race hatred pursued him daily with sneers, and jibes, -and insults, now and then with stones and clods. The children took -their cue from the gang at Nussbaum's; the gang made his life miserable. -Yet Crowley was a kindly Irishman, with many a jest and joke, and a -pleasant word for every one. Almost anybody he arrested could get -Crowley to let him go by begging hard enough. On the warm evenings -Koerner would sit on the stoop, and Crowley, coming by, would stop for a -dish of gossip. - -"Oh, come now, Mr. Koerner," he said that Saturday night, after he had -crudely told the old German of his son's fate, "I wouldn't take it that -hard; shure an' maybe it's good 'twill be doin' the lad an' him needin' -it the way he does." - -Officer Crowley was interrupted in his comforting by a racket at the -corner--the warm, soft nights were bringing the gang out, and he went -away to wage his hopeless battle with it. When he returned, old man -Koerner had gone indoors. - -Gusta shared all her father's humiliation and all her mother's grief at -Archie's imprisonment. She felt that she should visit her brother in -prison, but it was a whole week before she could get away, and then on a -brilliant Sunday afternoon she went to the workhouse. The hideous -prison buildings were surrounded by a high fence, ugly in its dull red -paint; the office and the adjoining quarters where the superintendent -lived had a grass plot in which some truckling trusty had made -flower-beds to please the superintendent's wife. In the office an old -clerk, in a long black coat, received Gusta solemnly. He was sitting, -from the habit of many years, on the high stool at the desk where he -worked; ordinarily he crouched over his books in the fear that political -changes would take his job from him; now a Sunday paper, which the -superintendent and his family had read and discarded, replaced the sad -records, but he bent over this none the less timidly. After a long -while an ill-natured guard, whose face had grown particularly sinister -and vicious in the business, ordered Gusta to follow him, and led her -back into the building. Reluctantly he unlocked doors and locked them -behind her, and Gusta grew alarmed. Once, waiting for him to unlock -what proved to be a final door, he waited while a line of women, -fourteen or fifteen of them, in uniform of striped gingham, went -clattering up a spiral iron stairway; two or three of the women were -negresses. They had been down to the services some Christian people had -been holding for the inmates, preaching to them that if they believed on -Jesus they would find release, and peace, and happiness. These people, -of course, did not mean release from the workhouse, and the peace and -happiness, it seemed, could not come until the inmates died. So long as -they lived, their only prospect seemed to be unpaid work by day, bread -and molasses to eat, and a cell to sleep in at night, with iron bars -locking them in and armed men to watch them. However, the inmates -enjoyed the services because they were allowed to sing. - -After the women disappeared, Gusta stood fearfully before a barred door -and looked down into a cell-house. The walls were three stories high, -and sheer from the floor upward, with narrow windows at the top. Inside -this shell of brick the cells were banked tier on tier, with dizzy -galleries along each tier. Though Gusta could see no one, she could -hear a multitude of low voices, like the humming of a bee-hive--the -prisoners, locked two in each little cell, were permitted to talk during -this hour. The place was clean, but had, of course, the institutional -odor. The guard called another guard, and between them they unlocked -several locks and threw several levers; finally a cell-door opened--and -Gusta saw Archie come forth. He wore a soiled ill-fitting suit of gray -flannel with wide horizontal stripes, and his hair had been clipped -close to his head. The sight so confused and appalled Gusta that she -could not speak, and the guard, standing suspiciously by her side to -hear all that was said, made it impossible for her to talk. The feeling -was worse than that she had had at the police station when an iron door -had thus similarly separated her from her brother. - -Archie came close and took hold of the bars with both his hands and -peered at her; he asked her a few questions about things at home, and -charged her with a few unimportant messages and errands. But she could -only stand there with the tears streaming down her face. Presently the -guard ordered Archie back to his cell, and he went away, turning back -wistfully and repeating his messages in a kind of desperate wish to -connect himself with the world. - -When Gusta got outside again, she determined that she would not go home, -for there the long shadow of the prison lay. She did not know where to -go or what to do, but while she was trying to decide she heard from afar -the music of a band--surely there would be distraction. So she walked -in the direction of the music. About the workhouse, as about all -prisons, were the ramshackles of squalid poverty and worse; but little -Flint Street, along which she took her way, began to pick up, and she -passed cottages, painted and prim, where workmen lived, and the people -she saw, and their many children playing in the street, were well -dressed and happy. It seemed strange to Gusta that any one should be -happy then. When suddenly she came into Eastend Avenue, she knew at -last where she was and whence the music came; she remembered that Miami -Park was not far away. The avenue was crowded with vehicles, not the -stylish kind she had been accustomed to on Claybourne Avenue, but -buggies from livery-stables, in which men drove to the road-houses up -the river, surreys with whole families crowded in them, now and then -some grocer's or butcher's delivery wagon furnished with seats and -filled with women and children. The long yellow trolley-cars that went -sliding by with incessant clangor of gongs were loaded; the only signs -of the aristocracy Gusta once had known were the occasional automobiles, -bound, like the Sunday afternoon buggy-riders, up the smooth white river -road. - -Eastend Avenue ran through the park, and just before it reached that -playground of the people it was lined with all kinds of amusement -pavilions, little vaudeville shows, merry-go-rounds, tintype studios, -shooting galleries, pop-corn and lemonade stands, public dance halls -where men and girls were whirling in the waltz. On one side was a -beer-garden. All these places were going noisily, with men shouting out -the attractions inside, hand-organs and drums making a wild, barbaric -din, and in the beer-garden a German band braying out its meretricious -tunes. But at the beginning of the park a dead-line was invisibly -drawn--beyond that the city would not allow the catch-penny amusements -to go. On one side of the avenue the park sloped down to the river, on -the other it stretched into a deep grove. The glass roof of a botanical -house gleamed in the sun, and beyond, hidden among the trees, were the -zoölogical gardens, where a deer park, a bear-pit, a monkey house, and a -yard in which foxes skulked and racoons slept, strove with their -mild-mannered exhibits for the beginnings of a menagerie. And -everywhere were people strolling along the walks, lounging under the -trees, hundreds of them, thousands of them, dressed evidently in their -best clothes, seeking relief from the constant toil that kept their -lives on a monotonous level. - -Gusta stood a while and gazed on the river. On the farther shore its -green banks rose high and rolled away with the imagination into woods -and fields and farms. Here and there little cat-boats moved swiftly -along, their sails white in the sun; some couples were out in rowboats. -But as Gusta looked she suddenly became self-conscious; she saw that, of -all the hundreds, she was the only one alone. Girls moved about, or -stood and talked and giggled in groups, and every girl seemed to have -some fellow with her. Gusta felt strange and out of place, and a little -bitterness rose in her heart. The band swelled into a livelier, more -strident strain, and Gusta resented this sudden burst of joyousness. -She turned to go away, but just then she saw that a young man had -stopped and was looking at her. He was a well-built young fellow, as -strong as Archie; he had dark hair and a small mustache curled upward at -the corners in a foreign way. His cheeks were ruddy; he carried a light -cane and smoked a cigar. When he saw that Gusta had noticed him he -smiled and Gusta blushed. Then he came up to her and took off his hat. - -"Are you taking a walk?" he asked. - -"I was going home," Gusta replied. She wondered how she could get away -without hurting the young man's feelings, for he seemed to be pleasant, -harmless and well meaning. - -"It's a fine day," he said. "There's lots o' people out." - -"Yes," said Gusta. - -"Where 'bouts do you live?" - -"On Bolt Street." - -"Oh, I live out that way myself!" said the young man. "It's quite a -ways from here. Been out to see some friends?" - -"Yes." Gusta hesitated. "I had an errand to do out this way." - -"Don't you want to go in the park and see the zoo? There's lots of funny -animals back there." The young man pointed with his little cane down -one of the gravel walks that wound among the trees. Gusta looked, and -saw the people--young couples, women with children, and groups of young -men, sauntering that way. Then she looked at the street-cars, loaded -heavily, with passengers clinging to the running-boards; she was tempted -to go, but it was growing late. - -"No, thanks," she said, "I must be going home now." - -"Are you going to walk or take the car?" asked the young man. - -"I'll walk, I guess," she said; and then, lest he think she had no car -fare, she added: "the cars are so crowded." - -She started then, and was surprised when the young man naturally walked -along by her side, swinging his cane and talking idly to her. At first -she was at a loss whether to let him walk with her or not; she had a -natural fear, a modesty, the feminine instinct, but she did not know -just how to dismiss him. She kept her face averted and her eyes -downcast; but finally, when her fears had subsided a little, she glanced -at him occasionally; she saw that he was good-looking, and she -considered him very well dressed. He had a gold watch chain, and when -she asked him what time it was he promptly drew out a watch. Their -conversation, from being at the first quite general, soon became -personal, and before they had gone far Gusta learned that the young -man's name was Charlie Peltzer, that he was a plumber, and that -sometimes he made as much as twenty dollars a week. By the time they -parted at the corner near Gusta's home they felt very well acquainted -and had agreed to meet again. - -After that they met frequently. In the evening after supper Gusta would -steal out, Peltzer would be waiting for her at the corner, and they -would stroll under the trees that were rapidly filling with leaves. -Once, passing Policeman Crowley, Gusta saw him looking at them narrowly. -There was a little triangular park not far from Gusta's home, and there -the two would sit all the evening. The moon was full, the nights were -soft and mild and warm. On Sundays they went to the park where they had -met, and now and then they danced in the public pavilion. But Gusta -never danced with any of the other men there, nor did Peltzer dance with -any of the other girls; they danced always together, looking into each -other's eyes. Now she could endure the monotony and the drudgery at -home, the children's peevishness, her mother's melancholy, her father's -querulousness. Even Archie's predicament lost its horror and its -sadness for her. She had not yet, however, told Peltzer, and she felt -ashamed of Archie, as if, in creating the possibility of compromising -her, he had done her a wrong. She went about in a dream, thinking of -Peltzer all the time, and of the wonderful thing that had brought all -this happiness into her life. - -Gusta had not, however, as yet allowed Peltzer to go home with her; he -went within half a block of the house, and there, in the shadow, they -took their long farewell. But Peltzer was growing more masterful; each -night he insisted on going a little nearer, and at last one night he -clung to her, bending over her, looking into her blue eyes, his lips -almost on hers, and before they were aware they were at her door. Gusta -was aroused by Crowley's voice. Crowley was there with her father, -telling him again the one incident in all his official career that had -distinguished him for a place in the columns of the newspapers. He was -just at the climax of the thrilling incident, and they heard his voice -ring out: - -"An' I kept right on toowards him, an' him shootin' at me breasht four -toimes--" - -He had got up, in the excitement he so often evoked in living over that -dramatic moment again, to illustrate the action, and he saw Gusta and -Charlie. Peltzer stopped, withdrew his arm hurriedly from Gusta's -waist, and then Crowley, forgetting his story, called out: - -"Oh-ho, me foine bucko!" - -Then Koerner saw Gusta, and, forgetting for a moment, tried to rise to -his feet, then dropped back again. - -"Who's dot feller mit you, huh? Who's dot now?" he demanded. - -"Aw, tut, tut, man," said Crowley. "Shure an' the girl manes no harm at -all--an' the laad, he's a likely wan. Shure now, Misther Koerner, don't -ye be haard on them--they're that young now! An' 'tis the spring, do ye -moind--and it's well I can see the phite flower on the thorn tra in me -ould home these days!" - -Gusta's heart and Peltzer's heart warmed to Crowley, but old Koerner -said: - -"In mit you!" - -And she slipped hurriedly indoors. - -But nothing could harm her now, for the world had changed. - - - - - XV - - -Archie Koerner served his thirty days in the workhouse, then, because he -was in debt to the State for the costs and had no money with which to -pay the debt, he was kept in prison ten days longer, although it was -against the constitution of that State to imprison a man for debt. -Forty days had seemed a short time to Bostwick when he pronounced -sentence; had he chosen, he might have given Archie a sentence, in fine -and imprisonment, that would have kept him in the workhouse for two -years; he frequently did this with thieves. These forty days, too, had -been brief to Marriott, and to Eades, and they had been brief to -Elizabeth, who had found new happiness in the fact that Mr. Amos Hunter -had given Dick a position in the banking department of his Title and -Trust Company. These forty days, in fact, had passed swiftly for nearly -every one in the city, because they were spring days, filled with warm -sunshine by day, and soft and musical showers by night. The trees were -pluming themselves in new green, the birds were singing, and people were -happy in their release from winter; they were busied about new clothes, -with riding and driving, with plans for summer vacations and schemes for -the future; they were all imbued with the spirit of hope the spring had -brought to the world again. To Gusta, too, in her love, these days had -passed swiftly, like a hazy, golden dream. - -But to Archie these forty days had not been forty days at all, but a -time of infinite duration. He counted each day as it dragged by; he -counted it when he came from his bunk in the morning; he counted it -every hour during the long day's work over the hideous bricks he could -find no joy in making; he counted it again at evening, and the last -thing before he fell asleep. It seemed that forty days would never roll -around. - -They did pass finally, and a morning came when he could leave the -comrades of his misery. He felt some regret in doing this; many of them -had been kind to him, and friendships had been developed by means of -whispers and signs, but more by the silent influence of a common -suffering. He had quarreled and almost fought with some of them, for -the imprisonment had developed the beast that was in them, and had made -many of them morose, ugly, suspicious, dangerous, filling them with a -kind of moral insanity. But he forgot all these enmities in the joy of -his release, and he bade his friends good-by and wished them luck. In -the superintendent's office they gave him back his clothes, and he went -out again into the world. - -It was strange to be at liberty again. His first unconscious impulse -was to take up his life where he had left it off, but he did not know -how to do this. For behind him stretched an unknown time, a blank, a -break in his existence, which refused to adjust itself to the rest of -his life; it bore no relation to that existence which was himself, his -being, and yet it was there. The world that knew no such blank or break -had gone on meanwhile and left him behind, and he could not catch up -now. He was like a man who had been unconscious and had awakened with a -blurred conception of things; it was as if he had come out of a profound -anæsthesia, to find that he had been irrevocably maimed by some -unnecessary operation in surgery. - -Archie did not, of course, realize all this clearly; had he been able to -do so, he might have avoided some of the consequences. But he had a -troubled sense of change, and he was to learn it and realize it fully -only by a slow, torturing process, a bit at a time. He had the first -sensation of this change in the peculiar gleam that came into the eye of -a policeman he passed in Market Place, and he felt it, too, when, half -fearfully, he presented himself at the back door of his home. His -father's fury had long since abated, but he showed that he could not -look on Archie as he once had done, and Gusta showed it, too. Bostwick -may have thought he had sentenced Archie to forty days in prison, but he -had really sentenced him to a lifetime in prison; for the influences of -those forty days could never leave Archie now; the shadows of that -prison were ever lengthening, and they were for evermore to creep with -him wherever he went, keeping him always within their shades. He was -thereafter to be but an umbra at the feast of life. - -Archie could not think of the whole matter very clearly; of the theft of -which he had been convicted he scarcely thought at all. The change that -came in the world's attitude toward him did not seem to be concerned -with that act; it was never mentioned or even suggested to him at home -or elsewhere. The thing that marked him was not the fact that he had -been a thief, but that he had been a prisoner. When he did think of the -theft, he told himself that he had paid for that; the score had been -wiped out; the world had taken its revenge on him. This revenge was -expressed by the smile that lit up the face of the grocer whose herrings -had been stolen; it had been shown in the satisfaction of the prosecutor -when the judge announced his finding; it had been expressed by the -harshness of the superintendent and the guards at the workhouse; it was -shown even by the glance of that policeman he met in the Market. The -world had wreaked its vengeance on him, and Archie felt that it should -be satisfied now. - -There was but one place now where the atmosphere lacked the element of -suspicion and distrust, but one place where he was not made to feel the -barrier that separated him from other men, and that was with the gang. -The gang welcomed him with a frank heartiness; they showed almost the -same eagerness and pleasure in him that they showed in welcoming Spud -and the others. There was balm in their welcome; they asked no -questions, they drew no distinctions; to them he was the same old -Archie, only grown nearer because now he could unite with them in -experience--they all had those same gaps in their lives. - -That afternoon they celebrated with cans of beer in the shade of a -lumber pile, and that night the gang went down the line. Having some -money, they were welcome in all the little saloons, and the girls in -short dresses, who stood about the bars rolling cigarettes constantly, -were glad to see them. And Archie found that no questions were asked -here, that no distinctions were made even when respected, if not -respectable, men appeared, even when the prosecutor of the police court -came along with a companion, and spent a portion of the salary these -people contributed so heavily to pay, even when the detectives came and -received the tribute money. And it dawned on Archie that here was a -little quarter of the world where he was wanted, where he was made to -feel at home, where that gap in his life made no difference. It was a -small quarter, covering scarcely more than a dozen blocks. It was -filled with miserable buildings, painted garishly and blazing with -light; there was ever the music of pianos and orchestras, and in the -saloons that were half theaters, bands blared out rapid tunes. And here -was swarming life; here, in the midst of death. But it was an important -quarter of the town; in rents and dividends and fines it contributed -largely of the money it made at such risk and sacrifice of body and of -soul, to all that was accounted good and great in the city. It helped -to pay the salaries of the mayor and the judges and the prosecutors and -the clerks and the detectives and the policemen; some of its money went -to support in idleness and luxury many dainty and exclusive women in -Claybourne Avenue, to build enormous churches, to pay for stained-glass -windows with pictures of Christ and the Magdalene, pictures that in soft -artistic hues lent a gentle religious and satisfying melancholy to the -ladies and gentlemen who sat in their pews on Sundays; it even helped to -send missionaries to far countries like Japan and China and India and -Africa, in order that the heathen who lived there might receive the -light of the Cross. - -While in the workhouse Archie had occupied the same cell with a man -called Joseph Mason, which was not his name. The prison was crowded, -and it was necessary for the prisoners to double up. The cells were -narrow and had two bunks, one above and the other below--there was as -much room as there is in a section of a sleeping-car. In these cells -the men slept and ate and lived, spending all the time they did not pass -at labor in the brick-yard. During those forty days Archie became well -acquainted with Mason; they sat on their little stools all day Sunday -and talked, and when they climbed into their bunks at night they -whispered. They shared with each other their surreptitious matches and -tobacco--all they had. - -This man Mason was nearly fifty years old. His close-cropped hair and -his close-shaven beard gave his head and cheeks and lips a uniform color -of dark blue; his lips were thin and compressed from a habit of -taciturnity, his eyes were small, bright and alert; at any sound he -would turn quickly and glance behind him. He had spent twenty years in -prison--ten years in Dannemora, five in Columbus, three in Allegheny and -two in Joliet. This, however, did not include the time he had been shut -up in police stations, calabooses, county jails and workhouses. In the -present instance he had been arrested for pocket-picking, and had agreed -to plead guilty if the offense were reduced to petit larceny; the -authorities had accepted his proposal, and he had been sentenced to six -months in the workhouse. He had served four and a half months of his -sentence when Archie went into the workhouse. - -The only time when Mason showed any marked sense of humor was when he -told Archie of his having confessed to pocket-picking. The truth was -that he was totally innocent of this crime, and if the police had been -wise they would have known this. Mason was a Johnny Yegg, that is, an -itinerant safe-blower. As a yegg man, of course, he never had picked a -pocket, and could not have done so had he wished, for he did not know -how; and if he had known how, still he would not have done so, for the -yeggs held such crimes as picking pockets in contempt. All of the terms -he had served in states' prisons had been for blowing safes, and all of -the safes had been in rural post-offices. The technical charge was -burglary, though he was not a burglar, either, in the sense of entering -dwellings by night; this was a class of thieving left to prowlers. The -preceding fall, however, a safe had been blown in a country post-office -near the city, and Mason knew that the United States inspectors would -suspect him if they found him, and while he had been innocent of that -particular crime, he knew that this would make no difference to the -inspectors; they would willingly "job" him, as he expressed it, -justifying the act to any one who might question it--they would not need -to justify it to themselves--by arguing that if he had not blown that -particular safe he had blown others, so that the balance would be -dressed in the end. Consequently, when the police arrested him for -pocket-picking, he hailed it as a stroke of good fortune and looked on -the workhouse as an asylum. He had been a model prisoner, and had given -the authorities no trouble. He did this partly because he was a -philosophical fellow, patient and uncomplaining, partly because he did -not wish to attract attention to himself. His picture and his -measurements, taken according to the Bertillon system, were in every -police station in the land. - -Mason told Archie many interesting stories of his life, of cooking over -a fire in the woods, riding on freight trains, of hang-outs in -sand-houses, and so on, and he told circumstantially of numerous crimes, -though never did he identify himself as concerned in any of them -excepting those of which he had been convicted, and in these he did not -give the names of his accomplices. Before their companionship ended he -had taught Archie the distinctions between yegg men and peter men and -gay cats, guns of various kinds, prowlers, and sure-thing men, and the -other unidentified horde of criminals who belong to none of these -classes. - -He had taught Archie also many little tricks whereby a convict's lot may -be lightened--as, for instance, how to split with a pin one match into -four matches, how to pass little things from one cell to another by a -"trolley" or piece of string, how to lie on a board, and so on. But, -above all, he had set Archie the example of a patient man who took -things as they came, without question or complaint. - -Archie missed Mason. He could see him sitting in the gloom of their -little cell, upright and almost never moving, talking in a low tone, his -lips, which had a streak of tobacco always on them, moving slowly, -shutting tightly after each sentence, until he had swallowed, then -deliberately he would go on. Mason's view of life interested Archie, -who, up to that time, had never thought at all, had never made any -distinctions, and so had no view of life at all. Many of Mason's views -were striking in their insight, many were childish in their lack of it; -they were curiously straightforward at times, at others astonishingly -oblique. He had a great hatred of sham and pretense, and he considered -all so-called respectable people as hypocrites. He had about the same -contempt for them that he had for the guns, who were sneaks, he said, -afraid to take chances. He had a high admiration for boldness and -courage, and a great love of adventure, and he thought that all these -qualities were best exemplified in yegg men. For the courts he had no -respect at all; his contempt was so deep-rooted that he never once -considered the possibility of their doing justice, and spoke as if it -were axiomatic that they could not do justice if they tried. He had the -same contempt for the church, although he seemed to know much about the -life of Jesus and had respect for His teachings. He called the people -who came to pray and sing on Sundays "mission stiffs"; he treated them -respectfully enough, but he told Archie that those prisoners who took an -interest in the services did so that they might secure favors and -perhaps pardons. He had known many convicts to secure their liberty in -that way, and while he gave them credit for cleverness and was not -disposed to blame them, still he did not respect them. Such convicts he -called "false alarms." - -There were one or two judges before whom he had been tried that he -admired and thought to be good men. He did not blame them for the -sentences they had given him, but explained to Archie that they had to -do this as an incident of their business, and he spoke as if they might -have shared his own regret in the cruel necessity. Of all prosecutors, -however, he had a hatred; especially of Eades, of whom he seemed to have -heard much. He told Archie that as a result of Eades's severity the -thieves some day would "rip" the town. - -He looked on his own occupation and spoke of it as any man might look on -his own occupation; it simply happened that that was his business. He -seemed to consider it as honest as, or at least no more dishonest than, -any other business. He had certain standards, and these he maintained. -On the whole, however, he concluded that his business hardly paid, -though it had its compensations in its adventure and in its free life. - - - - - XVI - - -Archie was loitering along Market Place, not sure of what he would do -that evening, but ready for any sensation chance might offer. Men were -brushing through the flapping green doors of the small saloons, talking -loudly, and swearing, many of them already drunk. Pianos were going, -and above all the din he heard the grating of a phonograph grinding out -the song some minstrel once had sung to a banjo; the banjo notes were -realistic, but the voice of the singer floated above the babel of voices -like the mere ghost of a voice, inhuman and not alive, as perhaps the -singer might not then have been alive. Archie, wondering where the gang -was, suddenly met Mason. The sight gave him real pleasure. - -"Hello, Joe!" he cried as he seized Mason's hand. - -Mason smiled faintly, but Archie's joy made him happy. - -"Je's," said Archie, "I'm glad to see you--it makes me feel better. -When 'd you get out?" - -"This morning," Mason replied. "Which way?" - -"Oh, anywhere," said Archie. "Where you goin'?" - -"Up to Gibbs's. Want to go 'long?" - -Archie's heart gave a little start; to go to Danny Gibbs's under Mason's -patronage would be a distinction. The evening opened all at once with -sparkling possibilities. - -"An old friend o' mine's there," Mason explained as they walked along up -Kentucky Street. "He's just got out of a shooting scrape; he croaked -that fellow Benny Moon. Remember?" - -Gibbs's place was scarcely more than a block away; it displayed no sign; -a three-story building of brick, a side door, and a plate-glass window -in front; a curtain hiding half the window, a light above--that was all. - -Mason entered with an assurance that impressed Archie, who had never -before felt the need of assurance in entering a saloon. He looked -about; it was like any other saloon, a long bar and a heavy mirror that -reflected the glasses and the bottles of green and yellow liqueurs -arranged before it. At one table sat a tattered wreck of a man, his -head bowed on his forearms crossed on the table, fast asleep--one of the -many broken lives that found with Danny Gibbs a refuge. Over the mirror -behind the bar hung an opium pipe, long since disused, serving as a -relic now, the dreams with which it had once relieved the squalor and -remorse of a wasted life long since broken. - -At Mason's step, however, there was a stir in the room behind the -bar-room, and a woman entered. She walked heavily, as if her years and -her flesh were burdensome; her face was heavy, tired and expressionless. -She was plainly making for the bar, as if to keep alive the pretense of -a saloon, but when she saw Mason she stopped, her face lighted up, -becoming all at once matronly and pleasant, and she smiled as she came -forward, holding out a hand. - -"Why, Joe," she said, "is that you? When did you get out?" - -"This morning," he said. "Where's Dan?" - -"He's back here; come in," and she turned and led the way. - -Mason followed, drawing Archie behind him, and they entered the room -behind the bar-room. The atmosphere changed--the room was light, it was -lived in, and the four men seated at a round bare table gave to the -place its proper character. Three of the men had small tumblers filled -with whisky before them, the fourth had none; he sat tilted back in his -chair, his stiff hat pulled down over his eyes, his hands sunk in the -pockets of his trousers; his fat thighs flattened on the edge of his -chair. He was dressed in modest gray, and might have been taken for a -commonplace business man. He lifted his blue eyes quickly and glanced -at the intruders; his face was round and cleanly shaved, save for a -little blond mustache that curled at the corners of his mouth. His -hair, of the same color as his mustache, glistened slightly at the -temples, where it was touched by gray. This man had no whisky glass -before him--he did not drink, but he sat there with an air of presiding -over this little session, plainly vested with some authority--sat, -indeed, as became Danny Gibbs, the most prominent figure in the under -world. - -Gibbs's place was only ostensibly a saloon; in reality it was a -clearing-house for thieves, where accounts were settled with men who had -been robbed under circumstances that made it advisable for them to keep -the matter secret, and where balances were adjusted with the police. -All the thieves of the higher class--those who traveled on railway -trains and steamboats, fleecing men in games of cards, those of that -class who were well-dressed, well-informed, pleasant-mannered, -apparently respectable, who passed everywhere for men of affairs, and -stole enormous sums by means of a knowledge of human nature that was -almost miraculous--were friends of Gibbs. He negotiated for them; he -helped them when they were in trouble; when they were in the city they -lived at his house--sometimes they lived on him. The two upper floors -of his establishment, fitted like a hotel, held many strange and -mysterious guests. Gibbs maintained the same relation with the guns, -the big-mitt men, and sneak-thieves, and he bore the same relation to -the yegg men and to the prowlers. By some marvelous tact he kept apart -all these classes, so different, so antipathetic, so jealous and -suspicious of one another, and when they happened to meet he kept them -on terms. There never were loud words or trouble at Gibbs's. To all -these classes of professional criminals he was a kind of father, an -ever-ready friend who never forgot or deserted them. When they were in -jail he sent lawyers to them, he provided them with delicacies, he paid -their fines. Sometimes he obtained pardons and commutations for them, -for he was naturally influential in politics and maintained relations -with Ralph Keller, the boss of the city, that were as close as those he -maintained with the police. He could provide votes for primaries, and he -could do other things. The police never molested him, though now and -then they threatened to, and then he was forced to increase the tribute -money, already enormous. A part of his understanding with the police, a -clause in the _modus vivendi_, was that certain friends of Gibbs's were -to be harbored in the city on condition that they committed no crimes -while there; now and then when a crime was committed in the city, it -would be made the excuse by the police for further extortion. The -detectives came and went as freely at Gibbs's as the guns, the yeggs, -the prowlers, the sure-thing men, the gamblers and bunco men. - -"Ah, Joe," said Gibbs, glancing at Mason. - -"Dan," said Mason, as he took a chair beside Gibbs. They had spoken in -low, quiet tones, yet somehow the simplicity of their greeting suggested -a friendship that antedated all things of the present, stretching back -into other days, recalling ties that had been formed at times and under -circumstances that were lost in the past and forgotten by every one, -even the police. However well the other three might have known Gibbs, -they delicately implied that their relation could not be so close as -that of Joe Mason, and they were silent for an instant, as if they would -pay a tribute to it. But the silence held, losing all at once its -deference to the friendship of Gibbs and Mason, and taking on a quality -of constraint, cold and repellent, plainly due to Archie's presence. -Archie felt this instantly, and Mason felt it, for he knew the ways of -his kind, and, turning to Gibbs, he said: - -"A friend of mine; met him in the boob." And then he said: "Mr. Gibbs, -let me introduce Mr. Koerner." - -Gibbs looked at Archie keenly and gave him his hand. Then Mason -introduced Archie to the three other men--Jackson, Mandell and Keenan. -Gibbs, meanwhile, turned to his wife, who had taken a chair against the -wall and folded her arms. - -"Get Joe and his friend something to drink, Kate," he commanded. The -woman rose wearily, asked them what they wished to drink, and went into -the bar-room for the whisky glasses. - -The little company had accepted Archie tentatively on Mason's assurance, -but they resumed their conversation guardedly and without spontaneity. -Mason, however, gave it a start again when he turned to Jackson and -said: - -"Well, Curly, I read about your trouble. I was glad you wasn't ditched. -I thought for a while there that you was the fall guy, all right." - -Jackson laughed without mirth and flecked the ash from his cigarette. - -"Yes, Joe, I come through." - -"He sprung you down there, too!" said Mason with more surprise than -Archie had ever known him to show. "I figured you'd waive, anyhow." - -"Well, I wanted a show-down, d'ye see?" said Jackson. "I knew they -couldn't hold me on the square." - -"Didn't they know anything?" - -"Who, them chuck coppers?" Jackson sneered. "Not a thing; they guessed -a whole lot, and when I got out they asked if I'd object to be mugged." -Jackson was showing his perfect teeth in a smile that attracted Archie. -"They'd treated me so well, I was ready to oblige them--d'ye see?--and I -let 'em--so they took my Bertillon. I didn't think one more would hurt -much." - -Jackson looked down at the table and smiled introspectively. The smile -won Archie completely. He was looking at Jackson with admiration in his -eyes, and Jackson, suddenly noticing him, conveyed to Archie subtly a -sense of his own pleasure in the boy's admiration. - -"Well, I tell you, Curly," Mason was going on. "You done right--that -fink got just what was comin' to him. You showed the nerve, too. I -couldn't 'ave waited half that long. But I didn't think you'd stand a -show with Bostwick. I knowed you'd get off in front of a jury, but I -had my misdoubts about that fellow Eades. God! he's a cold proposition! -But in front of Bostwick--!" Mason slowly and incredulously shook his -head, then ended by swallowing his little glassful of whisky suddenly. - -"Well, you see, Joe," Jackson began, speaking in a high, shrill voice, -as if it were necessary to convince Mason, "there was nothin' to it. -There was no chance for the bulls to job me on this thing," and he went -on to explain, as if he had to vindicate his exercise of judgment in a -delicate situation, seeming to forget how completely the outcome had -justified it. - -Archie had scarcely noticed Keenan and Mandell; once he had wrested his -eyes from Gibbs, he had not taken them from Jackson. He had been -puzzled at first, but now, in a flash, he recognized in Jackson the man -who had shot Moon. - -"You see, Joe," Mandell suddenly spoke up--his voice was a rumbling bass -in harmony with his heavy jaws--"it was a clear case of self-defense. -The shamming-pusher starts out to clean up down the line, he unsloughs -up there by Connie's place on Caldwell, and musses a wingy, and then he -goes across the street and bashes a dinge; he goes along that way, -bucklin' into everybody he meets, until he meets Curly, who was standing -down there by Sailor Goin's drum chinnin' Steve Noonan--he goes up to -them and begins. Curly mopes off; he dogs him down to Cliff Decker's -corner, catches up and gives Curly a clout in the gash--" - -Mason was listening intently, leaning forward, his keen eyes fixed on -Mandell's. He was glad, at last, to have the story from one he could -trust to give the details correctly; theretofore he had had nothing but -the accounts in the newspapers, and he had no more confidence in the -newspapers than he had in the courts or the churches, or any other -institution of the world above him. Archie listened, too, finding a new -fascination in the tale, though he had had it already from one of the -gang, Pat Whalen, who had been fortunate enough to see the tragedy, and -had had the distinction of testifying in the case. Whalen had seen -Moon, a bartender with pugilistic ambitions, make an unprovoked assault -on Jackson, follow him to the corner, and knock him down; he had seen -Jackson stagger to his feet, draw his revolver and back away. He had -told Archie how deathly white Jackson's face had gone as he backed, -backed, a whole block, a crowd following, and Moon coming after, cursing -and swearing, taunting Jackson, daring him to shoot, telling him he was -"four-flushing with that smoke-wagon," warning him to make a good job -when he did shoot, for he intended to make him eat his gun. He had told -how marvelously cool Jackson was; he had said in a low voice, "I don't -want to shoot you--I just want you to let me alone." And Whalen had -described how Moon had flung off his coat, how bystanders had tried to -restrain him, how he had rushed on, how Jackson had gone into the vacant -lot by old Jim Peppers's shanty, coming out on the other side, until he -was met by Eva Clason, who tried to open a gate and let Jackson into the -brothel she called home. Whalen had given Archie a sense of the -ironical fate that that day had led Eva's piano player to nail up the -gate so that the chickens she had bought could not get out of the yard. -The gate would not open and Moon was on him again; and Jackson backed -and backed, clear around to the sidewalk on Caldwell Street, and then, -when he had completed the circuit, Moon had sprung at him. Then the -revolver had cracked, the crowd closed in, and there lay Moon on the -sidewalk, dead--and Jackson looking down at him. Then the cries for -air, the patrol wagon, and the police. - -As Mandell told the story now, Archie kept his eyes on Jackson. At the -point where he had said, "I don't want to shoot you," Jackson's eyes -grew moist with tears; he blinked and knocked the ashes from his -cigarette with the nail of his little finger, sprinkling them on the -floor. When Mandell had done, Mason looked up at Jackson. - -"Well, Curly," he said, "you had the right nerve." - -"Nerve!" said Mandell. "I guess so!" - -"Nerve!" repeated Keenan. "He had enough for a whole mob!" - -"Ach!" said Jackson, twisting away from them on his chair. - -"I'd 'a' let him have it when he first bashed me," said Keenan. - -"Yes!" cried Jackson suddenly, rising and catching his chair by the -back. "Yes--and been settled for it! I didn't want to do it; I didn't -want to get into trouble. You always was that way, Jimmy." - -Archie looked at Curly Jackson as he stood with an arm outstretched -toward Keenan; his figure was tall and straight and slender, and as he -noted the short brown curls that gave him his name, the tanned cheeks, -the attitude in which he held himself, something confused Archie, some -thought he could not catch--some idea that evaded him, coming near till -he was just on the point of grasping it, then eluding him, like a name -one tries desperately to recall. - -"I didn't have my finger on the trigger," Jackson went on, speaking in -his high, shrill, excited voice. "I held it on the trigger-guard all -the time." - -And then suddenly it came to Archie--that bronzed skin, that set of the -shoulders, that trimness, that alertness, that coolness, Jackson could -have got nowhere but in the army. He had been a soldier--what was more, -he had been a regular. And Archie felt something like devotion for him. - -"Sit down, Curly," said Gibbs, and Jackson sank into his chair. A -minute later Jackson turned to Mason and said quietly: - -"You see, Joe, I don't like to talk about it--nor to think of it. I -didn't want to kill him, God knows. I don't see anything in it to get -swelled about and be the wise guy." - - - - - XVII - - -Curly Jackson sat for a moment idly making little circles on the -polished surface of the table with the moist bottom of his glass; then -abruptly he rose and left the room. The others followed him with their -eyes. Archie was deeply interested. He longed to talk to Jackson, -longed to show him how he admired him, but he was timid in this company, -and felt that it became him best to remain quiet. But Jackson's conduct -in the tragedy had fired Archie's imagination, and Jackson was as much -the hero in his eyes as he was in the eyes of his companions. And then -Archie thought of his own skill with the carbine and the revolver, and -he wished he could display it to these men; perhaps in that way he could -attract their notice and gain their approval. - -"He doesn't want to talk about it," said Mason when Jackson had -disappeared. - -"No," said Gibbs. "Let him alone." - -Jackson was gone but a few minutes, and then he returned and quietly -took his seat at the table. They talked of other things then, but -Archie could understand little they said, for they spoke in a language -that was almost wholly unintelligible to him. But he sat and listened -with a bewildering sense of mystery that made their conversation all the -more fascinating. What they said conveyed to him a sense of a wild, -rough, dangerous life that was full of adventure and a kind of low -romance, and Archie felt that he would like to know these men better; if -possible, to be one of them, and at the thought his heart beat faster, -as at the sudden possibility of a new achievement. - -As they talked voices were heard in the bar-room outside, and presently -a huge man stood in the door-way. He was fully six feet in height, and -blond. His face was red, and he was dressed in dark gray clothes, a -blue polka-dotted cravat giving his attire its one touch of color. He -reminded Archie of some one, and he tried to think who that person was. - -"Oh, Dan," the man in the doorway said, "come here a minute." - -Gibbs went into the bar-room. - -"Who's that?" asked Mandell. - -"He's a swell, all right," said Keenan. - -The three, Mandell, Keenan and Jackson, looked at Mason as if he could -tell. But Archie suddenly remembered. - -"He looks like an army officer," he said, speaking his thought aloud. - -"What do you know about army officers, young fellow?" demanded Jackson. -The others turned, and Archie blushed. But he did not propose to have -Jackson put him down. - -"Well," he said with spirit, "I know something--I was in the regular -army three years." - -"What regiment?" Jackson fixed Archie with his blue eyes, and there -seemed to be just a trace of concern in their keen, searching glance. - -"The twelfth cavalry," said Archie. "I served in the Philippines." - -"Oh!" said Jackson, as if relieved, and he released Archie from his -look. Archie felt relieved, too, and went on: - -"He looks just like a colonel in the English army I saw at Malta. Our -transport stopped there." - -"It's Lon McDougall," said Mason when Archie had finished. "He's a -big-mitt man." - -The others turned away with an effect of lost interest and something -like a sneer. - -"I suppose there's a lot o' those guns out there," said Keenan. - -"A mob come in this afternoon," said Mason; "they're working eastward -out of Chicago with the rag." - -"Well, let's make a get-away," said Keenan, unable to conceal a yegg -man's natural contempt of the guns. - -They all got up, Archie with them, and went out. In the bar-room five -men were standing; they were all men of slight figure, dressed well and -becomingly, and with a certain alert, sharp manner. They cast quick, -shifty glances at the men who came out of the back room, but there was -no recognition between them. These men, as Mason had said, were all -pickpockets; they had come to town that afternoon, and naturally -repaired at once to Gibbs's. They had come in advance of a circus that -was to be in the city two days later, and were happy in the hope of -being able to work under protection. They knew Cleary as a chief of -police with whom an arrangement could be made, and McDougall, who had -come in to work on circus day himself, had kindly agreed to secure them -this protection. At that moment, indeed, McDougall was whispering with -Gibbs at the end of the bar; they were discussing the "fixing" of -Cleary. - -The pickpockets had been talking rather excitedly. They were glad at the -prospect of the circus, and, in common with the rest of humanity, they -were glad that spring had come, partly from a natural human love of this -time of joy and hope, partly because the spring was the beginning of the -busy season. They could do more in summer, when people were stirring -about, just as the yegg men could do more in winter, when the nights -were long and windows were closed and people kept indoors. But at the -appearance of Mason and his friends, one of the pickpockets gave the -thieves' cough, and they were silent. McDougall glanced about, then -resumed his low talk with Gibbs. - -"Give us a little drink, Kate," said Jackson, who seemed to have money. -As they stood there pouring out their whisky, a little girl with a tray -of flowers entered the saloon, and the pickpockets instantly bought all -her carnations and adorned themselves. And then a man entered, a small -man, with a wry, comical face and a twisted, deformed figure; his left -hand was curled up as if he had been paralyzed on that side from his -youth. But once behind the big walnut screen which shut off the view -from the street, he straightened suddenly and became as well formed as -any one. His comedian's face broke into a smile, and he greeted every -one there familiarly; he knew them all--Gibbs and McDougall, the -pickpockets, and the yegg men, and he burst into loud congratulations -when he saw Jackson. - -"Well, Curly," he said, "you gave that geezer all that was coming to -him! You--" - -"Cheese it, Jimmy," said Jackson. "I don't want to hear any more about -that." - -Jackson spoke with such authority that the little fellow stepped back, -the smile that was on his lips faded suddenly, and he joined the -pickpockets. The little fellow was a grubber; he could throw his body -instantly into innumerable hideous shapes of deformity; he had not the -courage to be a thief, was afraid to sleep in a barn, and so had become -a beggar. - -As Mason bade Gibbs good night and went out he was laughing, and Archie -had not often seen him laugh. On the way down the street he told stories -of Jimmy's abilities as a beggar, and they all laughed, all save -Jackson, who was gloomy and morose and walked along shrouded in a kind -of gloom that impressed Archie powerfully. - -And now new days dawned for Archie--days of association with Mason, -Jackson, Keenan and Mandell. The Market Place gang had no standing among -professional criminals, though it had furnished recruits, and now Archie -became a recruit, and soon approved himself. It was not long until he -could speak their language; he called a safe a "peter" and nitroglycerin -"soup," a freight-train was a "John O'Brien"; he spoke of a man -convicted as a "fall man", conveying thus subtly a sense of vicarious -sacrifice; he called policemen "bulls", and jails "pogeys"; the -penitentiary where all these men had been was the "stir", and the little -packages of buttered bread and pie that were handed out to them from -kitchen doors were "lumps". And he learned the distinctions between the -classes of men who defy society and its laws; he knew what gay cats -were, and guns and dips, lifters, moll-buzzers, hoisters, tools, -scratchers, stalls, damper-getters, housemen, gopher-men, peter-men, -lush-touchers, super-twisters, penny-weighters, and so forth. And after -that he was seen at home but seldom; his absences grew long and -mysterious. - - - - - XVIII - - -Elizabeth did not go often to the Country Club, and almost never for any -pleasure she herself could find; now and then she went with her father, -in order to lure him out of doors; but to-day she had come with Dick, -who wanted some fitting destination for his new touring car. She was -finding on a deserted end of the veranda a relief from the summer heat -that for a week had smothered the city. A breeze was blowing off the -river, and she lay back languidly in her wicker chair and let it play -upon her brow. In her lap lay an open book, but she was not reading it -nor meditating on it; she held it in readiness to ward off interruption; -her reputation as a reader of books, while it made her formidable to -many and gave her an unpopularity that was more and more grieving her -mother, had its compensations--people would not often intrude upon a -book. She looked off across the river. On its smooth surface tiny -sail-boats were moving; on the opposite bank there was the picturesque -windmill of a farm-house, white against the bright green. The slender -young oak trees were rustling in the wind; the links were dotted with -players in white, and the distant flags and fluttering guidons that -marked hidden putting greens. Then suddenly Marriott was before her. -He had come in from the links, and he stood now bareheaded, glowing from -his exercise, folding his arms on the veranda rail. His forearms were -blazing red from their first burning of the season, and his nose was -burned red, giving him a merry look that made Elizabeth smile. - -"My! but you're burned!" she exclaimed. - -"Am I?" said Marriott, pleased. - -"Yes--like a mower," she added, remembering some men working in a field -that had fled past them as they came out in the automobile. She -remembered she had fancied the men burned brown as golfers, and she had -some half-formed notion of a sentence she might turn at the expense of a -certain literary school that viewed life thus upside down. She might -have gone on then and talked it over with Marriott, but her brain was -too tired; she could moralize just then no further than to say: - -"You don't deserve to be burned as a mower--your work isn't as hard." - -"No," said Marriott, "it isn't work at all--it's exercise; it's a -substitute for the work I should be doing." A look of disgust came to -his face. - -She did not wish then to talk seriously; she was trying to forget -problems, and she and Marriott were always discussing problems. - -"It's absurd," Marriott was saying. "I do this to get the exercise I -ought to get by working, by producing something--the exercise is the -end, not an incident of the means. You don't see any of these farmers -around here playing golf. They're too tired--" - -"Gordon," said Elizabeth, "I'm going away." - -"Where to?" he asked, looking up suddenly. - -"To Europe," she said. - -"Europe! Why, when? You must have decided hurriedly." - -"Yes, the other night after I came home from Mr. Parrish's--we decided -rather quickly--or papa decided for us." - -"Well!" Marriott exclaimed again. "That's fine!" - -He looked away toward the first tee, where his caddie was waiting for -him. He beckoned, and the boy came with his bag. - -"Tell Mr. Phillips I'll not play any more--I'll see him later." - -The caddie took up the bag and went lazily away, stopping to take -several practice swings with one of Marriott's drivers. The boy was -always swinging this club in the hope that Marriott would give it to -him. - -Marriott placed his hands on the rail, sprang over it, and drew up a -chair. - -"Well, this is sudden," he said, "but it's fine for you." He took out a -cigarette. "How did it happen?" - -"Do you want the real reason?" she asked. - -"Of course; I've a passion for the real." - -"I'm going in order to get away." - -Marriott was sheltering in his palms a match for his cigarette. He -looked up suddenly, the cigarette still between his lips. - -"Away from what?" - -"Oh, from--everything!" She waved her hands despairingly. Marriott did -not understand. - -"That's it," she said, looking him in the eyes. He saw that she was -very serious. He lighted his cigarette, and flung away the match that -was just beginning to burn his fingers. - -"I'm going to run away; I'm going to forget for a whole summer. I'm -going to have a good time. When I come back in the fall I'm going to -the Charity Bureau and do some work, but until then--" - -"Who's going with you?" asked Marriott. He had thought of other things -to say, but decided against them. - -"Mama." - -"And your father?" - -"Oh, he can't go. He and Dick will stay at home." - -"Then you won't shut up the house?" - -"No, we'll let the maids go, but we've got Gusta Koerner to come in -every day and look after things. I'm glad for her sake--and ours. We -can trust her." - -"I should think Dick would want to go." - -"No, he has this new automobile now, and he says, too, that he can't -leave the bank." She smiled as she thought of the seriousness with -which Dick was regarding his new duties. - -"Then you'll not go to Mackinac?" - -"No, we'll close the cottage this summer. Papa doesn't want to go there -without us, and--" - -"But Dick will miss his yacht." - -"Oh, the yacht has been wholly superseded in his affections by the -auto." - -"Well," said Marriott, "I'll not go north myself then. I had thought of -going up and hanging around, but now--" - -She looked to see if he were in earnest. - -"Really, I'm not as excited over the prospect of going to Europe as I -should be," said Elizabeth with a little regret in her tone. "I haven't -been in Europe since I graduated, and I've been looking forward to going -again--" - -"Oh, you'll have a great time," Marriott interrupted. - -She leaned back and Marriott eyed her narrowly; he saw that her look was -weary. - -"Well, you need a rest. It was such a long, hard winter." - -Elizabeth did not reply. She looked away across the river and Marriott -followed her gaze; the sky in the west was darkening, the afternoon had -grown sultry. - -"Gordon," she said presently, "I want you to do something for me." - -His heart leaped a little at her words. - -"Anything you say," he answered. - -"Won't you"--she hesitated a moment--"won't you look after Dick a little -this summer? Just keep an eye on him, don't you know?" - -Marriott laughed, and then he grew sober. He realized that he, perhaps, -understood the seriousness that was behind her request better than she -did, but he said nothing, for it was all so difficult. - -"Oh, he doesn't need any watching," he said, by way of reassuring her. - -"You will understand me, I'm sure." She turned her gray eyes on him. -"I think it is a critical time with him. I don't know what he does--I -don't want to know; I don't mean that you are to pry about, or do -anything surreptitious, or anything of that sort. You know, of course; -don't you?" - -"Why, certainly," he said. - -"But I have felt--you see," she scarcely knew how to go about it; "I -have an idea that if he could have a certain kind of influence in his -life, something wholesome--I think you could supply that." - -Marriott was moved by her confidence; he felt a great affection for her -in that instant. - -"It's good in you, Elizabeth," he said, and he lingered an instant in -pronouncing the syllables of her name, "but you really overestimate. -Dick's all right, but he's young. I'm not old, to be sure; but he'd -think me old." - -"I can see that would be in the way," she frankly admitted. "I don't -know just how it could be done; perhaps it can't be done at all." - -"And then, besides all that," Marriott went on, "I don't know of any -good I could do him. I don't know that there is anything he really -needs more than we all need." - -"Oh, yes there is," she insisted. "And there is much you could give -him. Perhaps it would bore you--" - -He protested. - -"Oh, I know!" she said determinedly. "We can be frank with each other, -Gordon. Dick is a man only in size and the clothes he wears; he's still -a child--a good, kind-hearted, affectionate, thoughtless child. The -whole thing perplexes me and it has perplexed papa--you might as well -know that. I have tried, and I can do nothing. He doesn't care for -books, and somehow when I prescribe books and they fail, or are not -accepted, I'm at the end of my resources. I have been trying to think -it all out, but I can't. I know that something is wrong, but I can't -tell you what it is. I only know that I _feel_ it, and that it troubles -me and worries me--and that I am tired." Then, as if he might -misunderstand, she went on with an air of haste: "I don't mean -necessarily anything wrong in Dick himself, but something wrong in--oh, -I don't know what I mean!" - -She lifted her hand in a little gesture of despair. - -"I feel somehow that the poor boy has had no chance in the world--though -he has had every advantage and opportunity." Her face lighted up -instantly with a kind of pleasure. "That's it!" she exclaimed. "You -see"--it was all clear to her just then, or would be if she could put -the thought into words before she lost it--"there is nothing for him to -do; there is no work for him, no necessity for his working at all. This -new place he has in the Trust Company--he seems happy and important in -it just now, but after all it doesn't seem to me real; he isn't actually -needed there; he got the place just because Mr. Hunter is a friend of -papa." The thought that for an instant had seemed on the point of being -posited was nebulous again. "Don't you understand?" she said, turning -to him for help. - -"I think I do," said Marriott. His brows were contracted and he was -trying to grasp her meaning. - -"It's hard to express," Elizabeth went on. "I think I mean that Dick -would be a great deal better off if he did not have a--rich father." -She hesitated before saying it, a little embarrassed. "If he had to -work, if he had his own way to make in the world--" - -"It is generally considered a great blessing to have a rich father," -said Marriott. - -"Yes," said Elizabeth, "it is. I've heard that very word used--in -church, too. But with Dick"--she went back to the personal aspect of -the question, which seemed easier--"what is his life? Last summer, up -at the island, it was the yacht--with a hired skipper to do the real -work. This summer it's the touring-car; it's always some sensation, -something physical, something to kill time with--and what kind of -conception of life is that?" - -She turned and looked at him with' a little arch of triumph in her -brows, at having attained this expression of her thought. - -"We all have a conception of life that is more or less confused," -Marriott generalized. "That is, when we have any conception at all." - -"Of course," said Elizabeth, "I presume Dick's conception is as good as -mine; and that his life is quite as useful. My life has been every bit -as objective--I have a round of little duties--teas and balls and -parties, and all that sort of thing, of course. I've been sheltered, -like all girls of my class; but poor Dick--he's exposed, that is the -difference." - -She was silent for a while. Marriott had not known before how deep her -thought had gone. - -"I'm utterly useless in the world," she went on, "and I'm sick of it! -Sick of it!" She had grown vehement, and her little fists clenched in -her lap, until the knuckles showed white. - -"Do you know what I've a notion of doing?" she said. - -"No; what?" - -"I've a notion to go and work in a factory, say half a day, and give -some poor girl a half-holiday." - -"But you'd take her wages from her," said Marriott. - -"Oh, I'd give her the wages." - -Marriott shook his head slowly, doubtingly. - -"I know it's impractical," Elizabeth went on. "Of course, I'd never do -it. Why, people would think I'd gone crazy! Imagine what mama would -say!" - -She smiled at the absurdity. - -"No," she said, "I'll have to go on, and lead my idle, useless life. -That's what it is, Gordon." He saw the latent fires of indignation and -protest leap into her eyes. "It's this life--this horrible, false, -insane life! That's what it is! The poor boy is beside himself with -it, and he doesn't know it. There is no place for him, nothing for him -to do; it's the logic of events." - -He was surprised to see such penetration in her. - -"I've been thinking it out," she hurried to explain. "I've suffered from -it myself. I've felt it for a long time, without understanding it, and -I don't understand it very well now, but I'm beginning to. Of what use -am I in the world? Not a bit--there isn't a single thing I can do. All -this whole winter I've been going about to a lot of useless affairs, -meeting and chattering with a lot of people who have no real life at -all--who are of no more use in the world than I. I'm wearing myself out -at it--and here I am, glad that the long, necessary waste of time is -over--tired and sick, of this--this--sofa-pillow existence!" She -thumped a silken pillow that lay on a long wicker divan beside her, -thumped it viciously and with a hatred. - -"Sometimes I feel that I'd like to leave the town and never see anybody -in it again!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Don't you?" - -"Yes--but--" - -"But what?" - -"But is there any place where we could escape it all?" - -"There must be some place--some place where we know no one, so that no -one's cares could be our cares, where we could be mere disinterested -spectators and sit aloof, and observe life, and not feel that it was any -concern of ours at all. That's what I want. I'd like to escape this -horrible ennui." - -"Well, the summer's here and we can have our vacations. Of course," he -added whimsically, "the Koerners will have no vacation." - -"Gordon, don't you ever dare to mention the Koerners again!" - - - - - XIX - - -A few days later Eades and Marriott stood on a step at the Union -Station, and watched the majestic Limited pull out for the east. The -white-haired engineer in his faded blue jumper looked calmly down from -the high window of his cab, the black porters grinned in the vestibule, -the elderly conductor carrying his responsibilities seriously and -unaffectedly, swung gracefully aboard, his watch in his hand, and there, -on the observation platform, stood Elizabeth, very pretty in her gray -gown and the little hat with the violets, Eades's flowers in one hand, -Marriott's book in the other, waving her adieux. They watched her out -of sight, and then Ward, standing beside them, sighed heavily. - -"Well," he said, "it'll be lonesome now, with everybody out of town." - -They waited for Dick, who alone of all of them had braved the high -corporate authority at the gate, and gone with the travelers to their -train. He came, and they went through the clamorous station to the -street, where Dick's automobile was waiting, shaking as if it would -shake itself to pieces. They rode down town in solemn silence. Eades -and Marriott, indeed, had had little to say; during the strain of the -parting moments with Elizabeth they had been stiff and formal with each -other. - -"I hope to get away myself next week," said Eades, "The town will soon -be empty." - -The city day was drawing to a close. Forge fires were glowing in the -foundries they passed. Through the gloom within they could see the -workmen, stripped like gunners to the waist, their moist, polished skins -glowing in the fierce glare. They passed noisy machine-shops whence -machinists glanced out at them. In some of the factories bevies of -girls were thronging the windows, calling now and then to the workmen, -who, for some reason earlier released from toil, were already trooping -by on the sidewalk. In the crowded streets great patient horses nodded -as they easily drew the empty trucks that had borne such heavy loads all -day; their drivers were smoking pipes, greeting one another, and -whistling or singing; one of them in the camaraderie of toil had taken -on a load of workmen, to haul them on their homeward way. The -street-cars were filled with men whose faces showed the grime their -hasty washing had not removed. - -Suddenly whistles blew, then there was a strange silence. Something -like a sigh went up from all that quarter of the town. - -The automobile was tearing through the tenderloin with its -gaudily-painted saloons and second-hand stores sandwiched between. Old -clothes fluttered above the sidewalk, and violins, revolvers, -boxing-gloves and bits of jewelry, the trash and rubbish of wasted, -feverish lives showed in the windows. Fat Jewish women sat in the -doorways of pawn-shops, their swarthy children playing on the dirty -sidewalk. In the swinging green doors of saloons stood bartenders; and -everywhere groups of men and women, laughing, joking, haggling, -scuffling and quarreling. Now and then girls with their tawdry finery -tripped down from upper rooms, stood a moment in the dark, narrow -doorways, looked up and down the street, and then suddenly went forth. -In some of the cheap theaters, the miserable tunes that never ended, day -or night, were jingling from metallic pianos. They passed on into the -business district. Shops were closing, the tall office buildings, each a -city in itself, were pouring forth their human contents; the sidewalks -were thronged--everywhere life, swarming, seething life, spawned out -upon the world. - - - - - BOOK II - - - - I - - -All day long Archie Koerner and Curly Jackson had ridden in the empty -box-car. They had made themselves as comfortable as they could, and had -beguiled the time with talk and stories and cigarettes. Now and then -they had fallen asleep, but not for long, for their joints ached with -the jolting of the train, and, more than all else, there was a constant -concern in their minds that made them restless, furtive and uneasy. The -day was warm, and toward noon the sun beat down, hotter and hotter; the -car was stifling, its atmosphere charged with the reminiscent odors of -all the cargoes it had ever hauled. Long before daylight that morning -they had crawled into the car as it stood on a siding in a village a -hundred miles away. Just before dawn the train came, and they heard the -conductor and brakeman moving about outside; now and then they caught -the twinkle of their lanterns. Then the car was shunted and jolted back -and forth for half an hour; finally the train was made up, and pulled -out of the sleeping village they were so glad to get away from. With -the coming of the dawn, they peeped out to see the sun come up over the -fields. They watched the old miracle in silence until they saw a farmer -coming across the field with a team. The farmer stopped, watched the -train go by, then turned and began to plow corn. - -"Pipe the Hoosier," Curly had said, the sight of a human being relieving -the silence imposed by nature in her loneliness. "We call 'em suckers. -He'll be plowing all day, but next winter he'll be sitting by a -fire--and we'll--we'll be macing old women for lumps at the back doors." - -Archie was not much affected by Curly's sarcastic philosophy; he had not -yet attained to Curly's point of view. - -Two days before, at evening, they had left the city and spent the first -half of the night on foot, trudging along a country road; then a -freight-train had taken them to a little town far to the south, where, -in the small hours of the morning, they had broken into a post-office, -blown open the safe with nitroglycerin, and taken out the stamps and -currency. Curly considered the venture successful, though marred by one -mishap: in the explosion the currency had been shattered and burned. -But he had carefully gathered up the remnants, wrapped them in a paper, -and stowed them away in his pocket with the stamps. The next day they -hid in a wood. Curly made a fire, cooked bacon, and brewed tea in a -tomato can, and these, with bread, had made a meal for them. Then he -had carefully sorted the stamps, and had hidden in the ground all the -five- and ten-cent stamps, preserving only those of the one- and -two-cent denominations. After that he had lain down on the grass and -slept. - -While Curly slept, Archie sat and examined with an expert's loving -interest and the fascination of a boy a new revolver he had stolen from -a hardware store in the city three days before. Curly at first had -opposed the theft of the revolver, but had finally consented because he -recognized Archie's need; Archie had had no revolver since he was sent -to the workhouse. The one he had when he was arrested had been -confiscated--as it is called--by the police, and given by Bostwick to a -friend, a lawyer who had long wanted a revolver to shoot burglars in -case any should break into his home. Curly had consented to Archie's -stealing the revolver, but he had commanded him to take nothing else, -and had waited outside while Archie went into the hardware store. -Archie had chosen a fine one, a double-acting, self-cocking revolver of -thirty-eight caliber, like those carried by the police. He had been -childishly happy in the possession of this weapon; he had taken it out -and looked at it a hundred times, and had been tempted when they were -alone in the woods to take a few practice shots, but when Curly ordered -him not to think of such nonsense, he drew the cartridges, aimed at -trees, twigs, birds, and snapped the trigger. Every little while in the -box-car that day he had taken it out, looked at it, caressed it, turned -it over in his palm, delicately tested its weight, and called Curly to -admire it with him. He thought much more of the revolver than he did of -the stamps and blasted currency they had stolen, and Curly had spoken -sharply to him at last and said: - -"If you don't put up that rod, I'll ditch it for you." - -Archie obeyed Curly, but when he had restored the revolver to his -pocket, he continued to talk of it, and then of other weapons he had -owned, and he told Curly how he had won the sharp-shooter's medal in the -army. - -But finally, in his weariness, Archie lost interest even in his new -revolver, and when Curly would not let him go to the door of the car and -look out, lest the trainmen should see them and force them into an -encounter, Archie had fallen asleep in a corner. - -It was a relief to Curly when Archie went to sleep, for in addition to -his joy in his revolver, Archie had been excited over their adventure. -Curly was in many ways peculiar; he was inclined to be secretive; he -frequently worked alone, and his operations were as much a mystery to -his companions and to Gibbs as they were to the police. He had had his -eye on the little post-office at Trenton for months; it had called to -him, as it were, to come and rob it. It had advantages, the building -was old; an entrance could be effected easily. He had stationed Archie -outside to watch while he knocked off the peter, and Archie had -acquitted himself to Curly's satisfaction. The affair came off -smoothly. Though it was in the short summer night, no one had been -abroad; they got away without molestation. Now, as they drew near the -city, Curly felt easy. - -Late in the afternoon Curly saw signs of the city's outposts--the -side-tracks were multiplying in long lines of freight-cars. Then Curly -wakened Archie, and when the train slowed up, they dropped from the car. - -It was good to feel once more their feet on the ground, to walk and -stretch their tired, numb muscles, good to breathe the open air and, -more than all, good to see the city looming under its pall of smoke. -They joined the throngs of working-men; and they might have passed for -working-men themselves, for Curly wore overalls, as he always did on his -expeditions, and they were both so black from the smoke and cinders of -their journey, that one might easily have mistaken their grime for that -of honest toil. - -They came to the river, pressed up the long approach to its noble -bridge, and submerged themselves in the stream of life that flowed -across it, the stream that was made up of all sorts of -people--working-men, clerks, artisans, shop-girls, children, men and -women, the old and the young, each individual with his burden or his -care or his secret guilt, his happiness, his hope, his comedy or his -tragedy, losing himself in the mass, merging his identity in the crowd, -doing his part to make the great epic of life that flowed across the -bridge as the great river flowed under it--the stream in which no one -could tell the good from the bad, or even wish thus to separate them, in -which no one could tell Archie or Curly from the teacher of a class in a -Sunday-school. Here on the bridge man's little distinctions were lost -and people were people merely, bound together by the common possession -of good and bad intentions, of good and bad deeds, of frailties, errors, -sorrows, sufferings and mistakes, of fears and doubts, of despairs, of -hopes and triumphs and heroisms and victories and boundless dreams. - -Beside them rumbled a long procession of trucks and wagons and -carriages, street-cars moved in yellow procession, ringing their -cautionary gongs; the draw in the middle of the bridge vibrated under -the tread of all those marching feet; its three red lights were already -burning overhead. Far below, the river, growing dark, rolled out to the -lake; close to its edge on the farther shore could be descried, after -long searching of the eye, the puffs of white smoke from crawling -trains; vessels could be picked out, tugs and smaller craft, great -propellers that bore coal and ore and lumber up and down the lakes; here -and there a white passenger-steamer, but all diminutive in the long -perspective. Above them the freight-depots squatted; above these -elevators lifted themselves, and then, as if on top of them, the great -buildings of the city heaved themselves as by some titanic convulsive -effort in a lofty pile, surmounted by the high office buildings in the -center, with here and there towers and spires striking upward from the -jagged sky-line. All this pile was in a neutral shade of gray,--lines, -details, distinctions, all were lost; these huge monuments of man's -vanity, or greed, or ambition, these expressions of his notions of -utility or of beauty, were heaped against a smoky sky, from which the -light was beginning to fade. Somewhere, hidden far down in this mammoth -pile, among all the myriads of people that swarmed and lost themselves -below it, were Gusta and Dick Ward, old man Koerner and Marriott, -Modderwell and Danner, Bostwick and Parrish, and Danny Gibbs, and Mason, -and Eades, but they were lost in the mass of human beings--the preachers -and thieves, the doctors and judges, and aldermen, and merchants, and -working-men, and social leaders, and prostitutes--who went to make up -the swarm of people that crawled under and through this pile of iron and -stone, thinking somehow that the distinctions and the grades they had -fashioned in their little minds made them something more or something -less than what they really were. - - - - - II - - -And yet, after having crossed the bridge in the silence that was the -mysterious effect of the descent of evening over the city, after having -been gathered back again for a few moments into human relations with -their fellow mortals, Archie and Curly became thieves again. This -change in them occurred when they saw two policemen standing at the -corner of High Street, where the crowd from the bridge, having climbed -the slope of River Street, began to flow in diverging lines this way and -that. The change was the more marked in Archie, for at sight of the -policemen he stopped suddenly. - -"Look!" he whispered. - -"Come on!" commanded Curly, and Archie fell into step. "You never want -to halt that way; it don't make any difference with harness bulls, but -if a fly dick was around, it might put him hip." - -It was a relief to Archie when at last they turned into Danny Gibbs's; -the strange shrinking sensation he had felt in the small of his back, -the impulse to turn around, the starting of his heart at each footfall -behind him, now disappeared. It was quiet at Gibbs's; the place was in -perfect order; in the window by the door, under the bill which pictured -two pugilists, the big cat he had seen now and then slinking about the -place was curled in sleep; and two little kittens were playing near her. -At one of the tables, his head bowed in his hands, was the wreck of a -man Archie had so often seen in that same attitude and in that same -place--the table indeed seemed to be used for no other purpose. Gibbs -himself was there, in shirt-sleeves, leaning over the evening paper he -had spread before him on his bar. He was freshly shaven, and was reading -his paper and smoking his cigar in the peace that had settled on his -establishment; his shirt was fresh and clean; the starch was scarcely -broken in its stiff sleeves, and Archie was fascinated by the tiny red -figures of horseshoes and stirrups and jockey caps that dotted it; he -had a desire to possess, some day, just such a shirt himself. At the -approaching step of the two men, Gibbs looked up suddenly, and the light -flashed blue from the diamond in the bosom of his shirt. Curly jerked -his head toward the back room. Gibbs looked at Curly an instant and -then at Archie, a question in his glance. - -"Sure," said Curly; "he's in." Then Gibbs carefully and deliberately -folded his paper, stuck it in one of the brackets of his bar, and went -with the two men into the back room. There he stood beside the table, -his hands thrust into his pockets, his cigar rolling in the corner of -his mouth, his head tilted back a little. Archie was tingling with -interest and expectation. - -"Well," said Gibbs, in an introductory way. - -Curly was unbuttoning his waistcoat; in a moment he had drawn from its -inner pocket a package, unwrapped it, and disclosed the sheets of fresh -new stamps, red and green, and stiff with the shining mucilage. He -counted them over laboriously and separated them, making two piles, one -of the red two-cent stamps, another of the green one-cent stamps, while -Gibbs stood, squinting downward at the table. When Curly was done, -Gibbs counted the sheets of postage stamps himself. - -"Just fifty of each, heh?" he asked when he had done. - -"That's right," said Curly. - -"That's right, is it?" Gibbs repeated; a shrewdness in his squint. - -"Yes," Curly said. - -"Sixty per cent.," said Gibbs. - -"All right," said Curly. - -"I can't give more for the stickers just now," Gibbs went on, as if the -men were entitled to some word of explanation; "business is damned bad, -and I'm not making much at that." - -"That's all right," said Curly somewhat impatiently, as one who disliked -haggling. - -"That goes with you, does it, Dutch?" Gibbs said to Archie. - -"Sure," said Archie, glancing hastily at Curly, "whatever he says goes -with me all right." And then he smiled, his white teeth showing, his -face ruddier, his blue eyes sparkling with the excitement he -felt--smiled at this new name Gibbs had suddenly given him. - -Curly had thrust his hand into another pocket meanwhile, and he drew out -another package, done up in a newspaper. He laid this on the table, -opened it slowly, and carefully turning back the folds of paper, -disclosed the bundle of charred bank-notes. Gibbs began shaking his -head dubiously as soon as he saw the contents. - -"I can't do much with that," he said. "But you leave it and I'll see." - -"Well, now, that's all right," said Curly, speaking in his high -argumentative tone; "I ain't wolfing. You can give us our bit later." - -"All right," said Gibbs, and carefully doing up the parcels, he took -them and disappeared. In a few moments he came back, counted out the -money on the table--ninety dollars--and then went out with the air of a -man whose business is finished. - -Curly divided the money, gave Archie his half, and they went out. The -bar-room was just as they had left it; the wreck of a man still bowed -his head on his forearms, the cat was still curled about her kittens. -Gibbs had taken down his paper, and resumed his reading. - -"I'm going to get a bath and a shave," Curly said. He passed his hand -over his chin, rasping its palm on the stubble of his beard. Archie was -surprised and a little disappointed at the hint of dismissal he felt in -Curly's tone. He wished to continue the companionship, with its -excitement, its interest, its pleasure, above all that quality in it -which sustained him and kept up his spirits. He found himself just then -in a curious state of mind; the distinction he had felt but a few -moments before in the back room with Gibbs, the importance in the -success of the expedition, more than all, the feeling that he had been -admitted to relationships which so short a time before had been so -mysterious and inaccessible to him,--all this was leaving him, dying out -within, as the stimulus of spirits dies out in a man, and Archie's -Teutonic mind was facing the darkness of a fit of despondency; he felt -blue and unhappy; he longed to stay with Curly. - -"Look at, Dutch," Curly was saying; "you've got a little of the cush -now--it ain't much, but it's something. You want to go and give some of -it to your mother; don't go and splash it up in beer." - -It pleased Archie to have Curly call him Dutch. There was something -affectionate in it, as there is in most nicknames--something reassuring. -But the mention of his mother overcame this sense; it unmanned him, and -he looked away. - -"And look at," Curly was going on, "you'll bit up on that burned darb; -you be around in a day or two." - -Curly withdrew into himself in the curious, baffling way he had; the way -that made him mysterious and somewhat superior, and, at times, brought -on him the distrust of his companions, always morbidly suspicious at -their best. Archie disliked to step out of Gibbs's place into the -street; it seemed like an exposure. He glanced out. The summer -twilight had deepened into darkness. The street was deserted and bare, -though the cobblestones somehow exuded the heat and turmoil of the day -that had just passed from them. Archie thought for an instant of what -Curly had said about his mother; he could see her as she would be -sitting in the kitchen, with the lamp on the table; Gusta would be -bustling about getting the supper, the children moving after her, -clutching at her skirts, retarding her, getting in her way, seeming to -endanger their own lives by scalding and burning and falling and other -domestic accidents, which, though always impending, never befell. The -kitchen would be full of the pleasant odor of frying potatoes, and the -coffee, bubbling over now and then and sizzling on the hot stove--Archie -had a sense of all these things, and his heart yearned and softened. -And then suddenly he thought of his father, and he knew that the -conception of the home he had just had was the way it used to be before -his father lost his leg and all the ills following that accident had -come upon the family; the house was no longer cheerful; the smell of -boiling coffee was not in it as often as it used to be; his mother was -depressed and his father quarrelsome, even Gusta had changed; he would -be sure to encounter that lover of hers, that plumber whom he hated. He -squeezed the roll of bills in his pocket; suddenly, too, he remembered -his new revolver and pressed it against his thigh, and he had pleasure -in that. He went out into the street. After all, the darkness was -kind; there were glaring and flashing electric lights along the street, -of course; the cheap restaurant across the way was blazing, people were -drifting in and out, but they were not exactly the same kind of people -in appearance that had thronged the streets by day. There was a new -atmosphere--a more congenial atmosphere, for night had come, and had -brought a change and a new race of people to the earth--a race that -lived and worked by night, with whom Archie felt a kinship. He did not -hate them as he was unconsciously growing to hate the people of the -daylight. He saw a lame hot-tamale man in white, hobbling up the -street, painfully carrying his steaming can; he saw cabmen on their cabs -down toward Cherokee Street; he saw two girls, vague, indistinct, -suggestive, flitting hurriedly by in the shadows; the electric lights -were blazing with a hard fierce glare, but there were shadows, deep and -black and soft. He started toward Cherokee Street; he squeezed the -money in his pocket; he was somehow elated with the independence it gave -him. At the corner he paused again; he had no plan, he was drifting -along physically just as he was morally, following the line of least -resistance, which line, just then, was marked by the lights along Market -Place. He started across that way, when all at once a hand took him by -the lapel of his coat and Kouka's black visage was before him. Archie -looked at the detective, whose eyes were piercing him from beneath the -surly brows that met in thick, coarse, bristling hairs across the wide -bridge of his nose. - -"Well," said Kouka, "so I've got you again!" - -Archie's heart came to his throat. A great rage suddenly seized him, a -hatred of Kouka, and of his black eyes; he had a savage wish to grind -the heel of his boot heavily, viciously, remorselessly into that face, -right there where the eyebrows met across the nose--grinding his heel -deep, feeling the bones crunch beneath it. For some reason Kouka -suddenly released his hold. - -"You'd better duck out o' here, young fellow," Kouka was saying. "You -hear?" - -Archie heard, but it was a moment before he could fully realize that -Kouka knew nothing after all. - -"You hear?" Kouka repeated, bringing his face close to Archie's. - -"Yes, I hear," said Archie sullenly, as it seemed, but thankfully. - -"Don't let me see you around any more, you--" - -Archie, saved by some instinct, did not reply, and he did not wait for -Kouka's oath, but hurried away, and Kouka, as he could easily feel, -stood watching him. He went on half a block and paused in a shadow. He -saw Kouka still standing there, then presently saw him turn and go away. - -Archie paused in the shadow; he thought of Kouka, remembering all the -detective had done to him; he remembered those forty days in the -workhouse; he thought of Bostwick, of the city attorney, of the whole -town that seemed to stand behind him; the bitterness of those days in -the workhouse came back, and the force of all the accumulated hatred and -vengeance that had been spent upon him was doubled and quadrupled in his -heart, and he stood there with black, mad, insane thoughts clouding his -reason. Then he gripped his roll of money, he pressed his new revolver, -and he felt a kind of wild, primitive, savage satisfaction,--the same -primitive satisfaction that Kouka, and Bostwick, the city attorney, the -whole police force, and the whole city had seemed to take in sending him -to the workhouse. And then he went on toward the tenderloin. - - - - - III - - -Gibbs, never sure that the police would keep their word with him, rose -earlier than usual the next morning, ate his breakfast, called a cab--he -had an eccentric fondness for riding about in hansom-cabs--and was -driven rapidly to the corner of High and Franklin Streets, the busiest, -most distracting corner in the city. There the enormous department store -of James E. Bills and Company occupied an entire building five stories -high. The store was already filled with shoppers, mostly women, who -crowded about the counters, on which all kinds of trinkets were huddled, -labeled with cards declaring that the price had just been reduced. The -girls behind the counters, all of whom were dressed in a certain -extravagant imitation of the women who came every day to look these -articles over, were already tired; their eyes lay in dark circles that -were the more pronounced because their cheeks were covered with powder, -and now and then they lifted their hands, their highly polished -finger-nails gleaming, to the enormous pompadours in which they had -arranged their hair. Many of the women in the store, clerks and -shoppers, wore peevish, discontented expressions, and spoke in high ugly -voices; the noise of their haggling filled the whole room and added to -the din made by the little metal money-boxes that whizzed by on overhead -wires, and increased the sense of confusion produced by the cheap and -useless things which, with their untruthful placards, were piled about -everywhere. The air in the store was foul and unwholesome; here and -there pale little girls who carried bundles in baskets ran about on -their little thin legs, piping out shrill numbers. - -Gibbs was wearied the moment he entered, and irritably waved aside the -sleek, foppish floor-walker. The only person to whom he spoke as he -passed along was a private detective leaning against one of the -counters; Gibbs had already had dealings with him and had got back for -him articles that had been stolen by certain women thieves who were -adept in the art of shoplifting. Gibbs went straight back to the -elevator and was lifted out of all this din and confusion into the -comparative quiet of the second floor, where the offices of the -establishment occupied a cramped space behind thin wooden partitions. -Gibbs entered the offices and glanced about at the clerks, who worked in -silence; on each of them had been impressed a subdued, obedient -demeanor; they glanced at Gibbs surreptitiously. It was plain that all -spirit had been drilled out of them; they were afraid of something, and, -driven by their necessities, they toiled like machines. Gibbs felt a -contempt for them as great as the contempt he felt for the floor-walkers -below, a contempt almost as great as that he had for Bills himself. A -timid man of about forty-five, with a black beard sprouting out of the -pallor of his skin, came up, and lifted his brows with amazement when -Gibbs, ignoring him, made plainly for the door that was lettered: "Mr. -Bills." - -"Mr. Bills is engaged just now," the man said in a hushed tone. - -"Well, tell him Mr. Gibbs is here." - -"But he's engaged just now, sir; he's dictating." The man leaned -forward and whispered the word "dictating" impressively. - -But Gibbs kept on toward the door; then the man blocked his way. - -"Tell him if you want to," said Gibbs, "if not, I will." - -It seemed that Gibbs might walk directly through the man, who retreated -from him, and, having no other egress, went through Mr. Bills's door. A -moment more and he held it open for Gibbs. - -Bills was sitting at an enormous desk which was set in perfect order; on -either side of him were baskets containing the letters he was -methodically answering. Bills's head showed over the top of the desk; it -was a round head covered with short black hair, smoothly combed and -shining. His black side-whiskers were likewise short and smooth. His -neck was bound by a white collar and a little pious, black cravat, and -he wore black clothes. His smoothly-shaven lips were pursed in a -self-satisfied way; he was brisk and unctuous, very clean and proper, -and looked as if he devoutly anointed himself with oil after his bath. -In a word, he bore himself as became a prominent business man, who, -besides his own large enterprise, managed a popular Sunday-school, and -gave Sunday afternoon "talks" on "Success," for the instruction of -certain young men of the city, too mild and acquiescent to succeed as -anything but conformers. - -"Ah, Mr. Gibbs," he said. "You will excuse me a moment." - -Bills turned and resumed the dictation of his stereotyped phrases of -business. He dictated several letters, then dismissed his stenographer -and, turning about, said with a smile: - -"Now, Mr. Gibbs." - -Gibbs drew his chair close to Bills's desk, and, taking a package from -his pocket, laid out the stamps. - -"One hundred sheets of twos, fifty of ones," he said. - -Bills had taken off his gold glasses and slowly lowered them to the end -of their fine gold chain; he rubbed the little red marks the glasses -left on the bridge of his nose, and in his manner there was an -uncertainty that seemed unexpected by Gibbs. - -"I was about to suggest, Mr. Gibbs," said Bills, placing his fingers tip -to tip, "that you see our Mr. Wilson; he manages the mail-order -department, now." - -"Not for mine," said Gibbs decisively. "I've always done business with -you. I don't know this fellow Wilson." - -Bills, choosing to take it as a tribute, smiled and went on: - -"I think we're fully stocked just now, but--how would a sixty per cent. -proposition strike you?" - -"No," said Gibbs, as decisively as before. - -"No?" repeated Bills. - -"No," Gibbs went on, "seventy-five." - -Bills thought a moment, absently lifting the rustling sheets. - -"How many did you say there were?" - -"They come to one-fifty," said Gibbs; "count 'em." - -Bills did count them, and when he had done, he said: - -"That would make it one-twelve-fifty?" - -"That's it." - -"Very well. Shall I pass the amount to your credit?" - -"No; I'll take the cash." - -"I thought perhaps Mrs. Gibbs would be wanting some things in the summer -line," said Bills. - -Gibbs shook his head. - -"We pay cash," said he. - -Bills smiled, got up, walked briskly with a little spring to each step -and left the room. He returned presently, closed the door, sat down, -counted the bills out on the leaf of his desk, laid a silver half-dollar -on top and said: - -"There you are." - -Gibbs counted the money carefully, rolled it up deliberately and stuffed -it into his trousers pocket. - -Gibbs had one more errand that morning, and he drove in his hansom-cab -to the private bank Amos Hunter conducted as a department of his trust -company. Gibbs deposited his money, and then went into Hunter's private -office. Hunter was an old man, thin and spare, with white hair, and a -gray face. He sat with his chair turned away from his desk, which he -seldom used except when it became necessary for him to sign his name, -and then he did this according to the direction of a clerk, who would -lay a paper before him, dip a pen in ink, hand it to Hunter, and point -to the space for the signature. Hunter was as economical of his energy -in signing his name as in everything else; he wrote it "A. Hunter." He -sat there every day without moving, as it seemed, apparently determined -to eke out his life to the utmost. His coachman drove him down town at -ten each morning, at four in the afternoon he came and drove him home -again. It was only through the windows of the carriage and through the -windows of his private office that Hunter looked out on a world with -which for forty years he had never come in personal contact. His inert -manner gave the impression of great age and senility; but the eyes under -the thick white brows were alert, keen, virile. He was referred to -generally as "old Amos." - -Gibbs went in, a parcel in his hand. - -"Just a little matter of some mutilated currency," he said. - -Old Amos's thin lips seemed to smile. - -"You may leave it and we'll be glad to forward it to Washington for you, -Mr. Gibbs," he said, without moving. - -Gibbs laid the bundle on old Amos's desk, and, taking up a bit of paper, -wrote on it and handed it to Hunter. - -"Have you a memorandum there?" asked Hunter. He glanced at the paper and -wrote on the slip: - -"A. H." - -Then he resumed the attitude that had scarcely been altered, laid his -white hands in his lap and sat there with his thin habitual smile. - -Gibbs thanked him and went away. His morning's work among the business -men of the city was done. - - - - - IV - - -It promised to be a quiet evening at Danny Gibbs's. There had been a -vicious electrical storm that afternoon, but by seven o'clock the -lightning played prettily in the east, the thunder rolled away, the air -cooled, and the rain fell peacefully. The storm had been predicted to -Joe Mason in the rheumatism that had bitten his bones for two days, but -now the ache had ceased, and the relief was a delicious sensation he was -content simply to realize. He sat in the back room, smoking and -thinking, a letter in his hand. Gibbs's wife had gone to bed--she had -been drinking that day. Old Johnson, the sot who, by acting as porter, -paid Gibbs for his shelter and the whisky he drank--he ate very little, -going days at a time without food--had set the bar-room in order and -disappeared. Gibbs was somewhere about, but all was still, and Mason -liked it so. From time to time Mason glanced at the letter. The letter -was a fortnight old; it had been written from a workhouse in a distant -city by his old friend Dillon, known to the yeggs as Slim. Mason had -not seen Dillon for a year--not, in fact, since they had been released -from Dannemora. This was the letter: - - -OLD PAL--I thought I would fly you a kite, and take chances of its safe -arrival at your loft. I was lagged wrong, but I am covered and strong -and the bulls can't throw me. I am only here for a whop, and I'll hit -the road before the dog is up. I have filled out a country jug that can -be sprung all right. We can make a safe lamas. There is a John O'Brien -at 1:30 A. M., and a rattler at 3:50. The shack next door is a cold -slough, and the nearest kip to the joint is one look and a peep. There -is a speeder in the shanty, and we can get to the main stem and catch -the rattler and be in the main fort by daylight. The trick is easy -worth fifty centuries. Now let me know, and make your mark and time. I -am getting this out through a broad who will give it to our fall-back, -you know who. - -Yours in durance vile, - SLIM. - - -Mason had not answered the letter, and only the day before Dillon had -appeared, bringing with him a youth called Squeak. And now this night, -as Mason sat there, he did not like to think of Dillon. Dillon had -traveled hundreds of miles by freight-trains to be with Mason, to give -him part in his enterprise; he had been to the little town and examined -the bank; he had even entered it by night alone. He had laid his plans, -and, like all his kind, could not conceive of their miscarrying. He had -estimated the amount they would procure; he considered five thousand -dollars a conservative estimate. It was the big touch, of which they -were always dreaming as a means of reformation. But Mason had refused. -Then Dillon asked Curly, and Curly refused. Mason gave Dillon no reason -for his refusal, but Curly contended that summer was not the time for -such a big job; the nights were short and people slept lightly, with -open windows, even if the old stool-pigeon was not up. Dillon had -taunted him and hinted contemptuously at a broad. They had almost come -to blows. Finally Dillon had left, taking with him Mandell and Squeak -and Archie--all eager to go. - -Mason sat there and thought of Dillon and his companions. He could -imagine them on the John O'Brien, jolting on through the rain, maybe -dropping off when the train stopped, to hide under some water-tank, or -behind some freight-shed--he had done it all so many, many times -himself. Still he tried not to think of Dillon, for he could not do so -without a shade of self-reproach; it seemed like pigging to refuse -Dillon as he had; they had worked so long together. Dillon's long, -gaunt figure presented itself to his memory as crouching before some old -rope mold, a bit of candle in his left hand, getting ready to pour the -soup, and then memory would usually revert to that night when Dillon had -suddenly doused the candle--but not before Mason had caught the gleam in -his eyes and the setting of his jaw--and, pulling his rod, had barked -suddenly into the darkness. Then the flight outside, the rose-colored -flashes from their revolvers in the night, the race down the silent -street--white snow in the fields across the railroad tracks, and the -bitter cold in the woods. - -He shook his head as if to fling the memories from him. But Dillon's -figure came back, now in the front rank of his company, marching across -the hideous prison yard, his long legs breaking at the middle as he -leaned back in the lock-step. Mason tried to escape these thoughts, but -they persisted. He got a newspaper, but understood little of what he -read, except one brief despatch, which told of a tramp found cut in two -beside the tracks, five hundred dollars sewed in his coat. The despatch -wondered how a hobo could have so much money, and this amused Mason; he -would tell Gibbs, and they would have a laugh--their old laugh at the -world above them. Then they themselves would wonder--wonder which one -of the boys it was; it might be weeks before the news would reach them -in an authoritative form. He enjoyed for a moment his laugh at the -stupid world, the world which could not understand them in the least, -the world which shuddered in its ignorance of them. Then he thought of -Dillon again. Dillon had never refused him; he had not refused him that -evening in northern Indiana, when the sheriff and the posse of farmers, -armed with pitchforks and shot-guns and old army muskets, had brought -them to bay in the wheat stubble; his ammunition had given out, but old -Dillon, with only three cartridges left, had stood cursing and covering -his retreat. Mason was beginning to feel small about it, and -yet--Dillon did not understand; when he came back he would explain it -all to him. This notion gave him some comfort, and he lighted his -cigar, turned to his newspaper again, and listened for the rain falling -outside. Suddenly there was a noise, and Mason started. Was that old -Dillon crouching there beside him, his face gleaming in the flicker of -the dripping candle? He put his hand to his head in a kind of daze. - -"Je's!" he exclaimed. "I'm getting nutty." - -He was troubled, for his head had now and then gone off that way in -prison--they called it stir simple. Mason sat down again, but no longer -tried to read. He heard the noise in the bar-room, the noise of high -excitement, and he wondered. His curiosity was great, but he had -learned to control his curiosity. He could hear talking, laughing, -cursing, the shuffle of feet, the clink of glasses--some sports out for -a time, no doubt. In a moment the door opened and Gibbs appeared. - -"Where's Kate?" he demanded. - -"She went to bed half an hour ago," said Mason. "Why--what's the -excitement?" - -"Eddie Dean's here--come on out." Gibbs disappeared; the door closed. - -Mason understood; no wonder the place thrilled with excitement. He had -heard of Eddie Dean. Down into his world had come stories of this man, -of his amazing skill and cleverness, of the enormous sums he made every -year--made and spent. Dean had the fascination for Mason that is born -of mystery; he had had Dean's methods and the methods of other big-mitt -men described to him; he had heard long discussions in sand-house -hang-outs and beside camp-fires in the woods, but the descriptions never -described; he could never grasp the details. He could understand the -common, ordinary thefts; he could see how a pickpocket by long practice -learned his art, but the kind of work that Dean did had something occult -in it. How a man could go out, wearing good clothes, and, without -soiling his fingers, merely by talking and playing cards, make such sums -of money--Mason simply could not realize it. Surely it was worth while -to have a look at him. He started out, then he remembered; he passed -his hand over the stubble of hair that had been growing after the -shaving at the workhouse, and he picked up his low-crowned, -narrow-brimmed felt hat--the kind worn by the brakemen he now and then -wished to be taken for--pulled it down to his eyebrows, and went out. - -Eddie Dean, who stood at the bar in the blue clothes that perfectly -exemplified the fashion of that summer, was described in the police -identification records as a man somewhat above medium size, and now, at -forty, he was beginning to take on fat. His face was heavy, and despite -the fact that his nose was twisted slightly to one side, and his upper -lip depressed where it met his nose, the women whom Dean knew considered -him handsome. His face was smooth-shaven and blue, like an actor's, -from his heavy beard. His mouth was large, and his lips thin; he could -close them and look serious and profound; and when he smiled and -disclosed the gold fillings in his teeth, he seemed youthful and gay. -His face showed vanity, a love of pleasure, vulgarity, selfishness, -sensuality accentuated by dissipation, and the black eyes that were so -sharp and bright and penetrating were cruel. Mason, however, could not -analyze; he only knew that he did not like this fellow, and merely -grunted when Gibbs introduced him, and Dean patronizingly said, without -looking at him: - -"Just in time, my good fellow." - -Then he motioned imperiously to the bartender, who took down another -wine-glass, wiped it dexterously, and set it out with an elegant -flourish and filled it. Mason watched the golden bubbles spring from the -hollow stem to the seething surface. He did not care much for -champagne, but he lifted his glass and looked at Dean, who was saying: - -"Here's to the suckers--may they never grow less." - -The others in the party laughed. Besides Gibbs, who was standing -outside his own bar like a visitor, there were Nate Rosen, a gambler, -dressed more conspicuously than Dean; a small man in gray, with strange -pale eyes fastened always on Dean; and a third man in tweeds, larger -than either, with broad shoulders, heavy jaw and an habitual scowl. -Beyond him, apart, with the truckling leer of the parasite, stood a man -in seedy livery, evidently the driver of the carriage that was waiting -outside in the rain. - -Dean's history was the monotonous one of most men of his kind. Having a -boy's natural dislike for school, he had run away from home and joined a -circus. At first he led the sick horses, then he was hired by one of -the candy butchers and finally allowed to peddle on the seats; there he -learned the art of short change, and when he had mastered this he sold -tickets from a little satchel outside the tents; by the time he was -twenty-five he knew most of the schemes by which the foolish, seeking to -get something for nothing, are despoiled of their money. He was an -adept at cards; he knew monte and he could work the shells; later he -traveled about, cheating men by all kinds of devices, aided by an -intuitive knowledge of human nature. He could go through a passenger -train from coach to coach and pick out his victims by their backs. As -he went through he would suddenly lose his balance, as if by the -lurching of the train, and steady himself by the arm of the seat in -which his intended victim sat. His confederate, following behind, would -note and remember. Later, he would return and invite him to make a -fourth hand at whist or pedro or some other game. Dean would do the -rest. He went to all large gatherings--political conventions, -especially national conventions, conclaves, celebrations, world's fairs, -the opening of any new strip of land in the West, the gold-fields of -Alaska, and so on. He had roamed all over the United States; he had -been to Europe, and Cuba, and Jamaica, and Old Mexico; he had visited -Hawaii; he boasted that he had traveled the whole world over--"from St. -Petersburg to Cape Breton" was the way he put it, and it impressed his -hearers all the more because most of them had none but the most confused -notion of where either place was. He boasted, too, that United States -senators, cabinet officers, congressmen, governors, financiers and other -prominent men had been among his victims, and many of these boasts were -justified--by the facts, at least. - -The atmosphere of the bar-room had been changed by the arrival of Dean. -It lost its usual serenity and quivered with excitement. The deference -shown to Dean was marked in the attitude of the men in his suite; it was -marked, too, by the bartender's attitude, and even in that of Gibbs, -though Gibbs was more quiet and self-contained, bearing himself, indeed, -quite as Dean's equal. He did not look at Dean often, but stood at his -bar with his head lowered, gazing thoughtfully at the glass of mineral -water he was drinking, turning it round and round in his fingers, with a -faint smile on his lips. But no one could tell whether the amusement -came from his own thoughts or the little adventures Dean was relating. - -"No, I'm going out in the morning," Dean was saying, the diamond on his -white, delicate hand flashing as he lifted his glass. - -"Which way?" asked Gibbs. - -"I'm working eastward," said Dean. "Here!" he turned to the bartender, -"let's have another--and get another barrel of water for Dan." - -He smiled with what tolerance he could find for a man who did not drink. - -"How much of that stuff do you lap up in a week, Dan?" - -"Oh, I don't know," Gibbs said. He was not quick at repartee. - -"Well, slush up, but don't make yourself sick," Dean went on. - -The bartender, moving briskly about, pressed the cork from a bottle, -poured a few drops into Dean's glass, and then proceeded to fill the -other glasses. - -"Well, how's the graft?" Gibbs asked presently. - -"Oh, fairly good," said Dean. "A couple of bucks yesterday." He -switched his leg with the slender stick he carried. - -Gibbs's eyes lighted with humorous interest and pleasure. - -"They were coming out of St. Louis," Dean went on, and then, as if he -had perhaps given an exaggerated impression of the transaction, he went -on in a quick, explicatory way: "Oh, it didn't amount to much--just for -the fun of the thing, you know. But say, who do you think I saw in St. -Louis?" - -"Don't know," said Gibbs, shaking his head. - -"Why, old Tom Young." - -"No!" exclaimed Gibbs, looking up in genuine interest and surprise. - -"Sure," said Dean. - -"What's he doing?" - -"He made the big touch, quit the business, got a farm in Illinois, and -settled down with Lou. The girl's grown up, just out of a seminary, and -the boy's in college. He said he'd like me to see the place, but he -wouldn't take me out 'cause the girl was home then. Remember the old -joint in the alley?" - -Gibbs's eyes kindled with lively memories. - -"Remember that afternoon Bob's man came down for the brace-box? I can -see Tom now--he gets the box and says, 'Tell Bob not to frisk him.' -God! They sent that mark through the alley that afternoon to a -fare-you-well. And they had hell's own time keepin' the box in advance -of 'em--it was the only one in the alley. Remember?" - -Gibbs remembered, but that did not keep Dean from relating the whole -story. - -"What became of Steve Harris?" Dean asked. - -"He's out with the rag, I guess," Gibbs replied. - -"I heard Winnie sold her place." - -"Oh, yes," said Gibbs; "bought a little home in the swell part--quiet -street and all that--and they're living there happy as you please." - -"Well, that's good," said Dean. "Steve and me was with the John -Robinson show in the old days. He was holdin' a board for the monte -tickets, and old Pappy King was cappin' for the game. I remember one -night in Danville, Kentucky"--and Dean told another story. The stories -were all alike, having for their theme the despoilment of some simpleton -who had tried to beat Dean or his confederates at one of their own -numerous games. - -"I was holding the shingle for Jim Steele when he was playing the -broads, you understand. He was the greatest spieler ever. I can see -him now, taking up the tickets, looking around and saying: 'Is there a -speculator in the party?'" - -Dean's face was alight with the excitement of dramatizing the long-past -scene. He laid his stick on the bar and bent over, with his white -fingers held as if they poised cards. He was a good mimic. One could -easily imagine the scene on the trampled grass, with the white canvas -tents of the circus for a background. - -"Dick Nolan and Joe Hipp were capping, and Dick would come up--he had -the best gilly make-up in the world, you understand, a paper collar, a -long linen duster and big green mush--he'd look over the -cards--see?"--Dean leaned over awkwardly like a country-man, pointing -with a crooked forefinger--"and then he'd say, 'I think it's that one.'" - -His voice had changed; he spoke in the cracked tone of the farmer, and -his little audience laughed. - -"Well, the guy hollers, you understand, but at the come-back they're all -swipes--working in the horse tents; you'd never know 'em. And then," -Dean went on, with the exquisite pleasure of remembering, "old Ben -Mellott was there working the send--you remember Ben, Dan?" - -Gibbs nodded. - -"Jake Rend was running the side-show, and old Jew Cohen had a dollar -store--a drop-case, you know." - -Gibbs nodded again. Dean grew meditative, and a silence fell on the -group. - -"We had a great crowd of knucks, too; the guns to-day are nothing to -them. Those were the days, Dan. Course, there wasn't much in it at -that." - -Dean meditated over the lost days a moment, and then he grew cheerful -again. - -"I met Luke Evans last fall, Dan," he began again. "In England. The -major and I were running between London and Liverpool, working the -steamer trains, and him and me--" - -And he was off into another story. Having taken up his English -experience, Dean now told a number of vulgar stories, using the English -accent, which he could imitate perfectly. While in the midst of one of -them, he suddenly started at a footfall, and looked hastily over his -shoulder. A man came in, glanced about, and came confidently forward. - -"Good morning, Danny," he said, in a tone of the greatest familiarity. - -Gibbs answered the greeting soberly, and then, at a sign from the man, -stepped aside rather reluctantly and whispered with him. Dean eyed them -narrowly, took in the fellow's attire from his straw hat to his damp -shoes, and, when he could catch Gibbs's eye, he crooked his left arm, -touched it significantly, and lifted his eyebrows in sign of question. -Gibbs shook his head in a negative that had a touch of contempt for the -implication, and then drew the man toward the bar. Without the man's -seeing him or hearing him, Dean touched his arm again and said to Gibbs -softly: - -"Elbow?" - -"No," said Gibbs, "reporter." - -Then he turned and, speaking to the new-comer, he presented him to Dean, -saying: - -"Mr. Jordon, make you acquainted with Mr. Wales, of the _Courier_." - -"Glad to meet you, Mr. Jordon," said the newspaper man. - -"Ah, chawmed, I'm suah," said Dean, keeping to the English accent he had -just been using. "I say, won't you join us?" - -The bartender, at a glance from Dean, produced another bottle of -champagne; the newspaper man's eyes glistened with pleasure, Dean was -taking out his cigarette case. Wales glanced at the cigarettes, and -Dean hastened to proffer them. In conversation with the reporter Dean -impersonated an English follower of the turf who had brought some horses -to America. As he did this, actor that he was, he became more and more -interested in his impromptu monologue, assumed the character perfectly -and lived into it, and the others there who knew of the deceit he was -practising on the reporter--he was nearly always practising some sort of -deceit, but seldom so innocently as now--were utterly delighted; they -listened to his guying until nearly midnight, when Dean, having -sustained the character of the Englishman for more than two hours, grew -weary and said he must go. As he was leaving he said to the reporter: - -"You've been across, of course? No? Well, really now, that's quite too -bad, don't you know! But I say, whenever you come, you must look me up, -if you don't mind, at Tarlingham Towers. I've a bit of a place down in -the Surrey country; I've a beast there that's just about up to your -weight. Have you ever ridden to the hounds?" - -The reporter was delighted; he felt that a distinction had been -conferred upon him. Wishing to show his appreciation, he asked Dean, or -Jordan, as he was to him, if he might print an interview. Dean -graciously consented, and the reporter left for his office, glad of a -story with which to justify to his city editor, at least partly, his -wasted evening. - -When Dean had gone, taking his three companions with him, Gibbs and -Mason sat for a long while in the back room. - -"So that's Eddie Dean!" said Mason. - -"Yes," said Gibbs, "that's him." - -"And what's his graft?" - -"Oh," said Gibbs, "the send, the bull con, the big mitt, the cross -lift--anything in that line." - -"And those two other guys with him?" asked Mason. - -"That little one is Willie the Rat, the other is Gaffney." - -"Sure-thing men, too?" - -"Yes, they're in Ed's mob." - -Mason was still for a while, then he observed: - -"Je's! He did make a monkey of that cove!" - -Gibbs laughed. "Oh, he's a great cod! Why, do you know what he did -once? Well, he went to Lord Paisley's ball in Quebec, impersonating Sir -Charles Jordon--that's why I introduced him as Mr. Jordon to-night." -Gibbs's eyes twinkled. "He went in to look for a rummy, but the -flatties got on and tipped him off." - -"He's smart." - -"Yes, the smartest in the business. He's made several ten-century -touches." - -Gibbs thought seriously a moment and then said: - -"No, he isn't smart; he's a damn fool, like all of them." - -"Fall?" - -"Yes, settled twice; done a two-spot at Joliet and a finiff at Ionia." - -Mason knit his brows and thought a long time, while Gibbs smoked. -Finally Mason shook his head. - -"No," he said, "no, Dan, I don't get it. I can understand knocking off -a peter--the stuff's right there. All you do is to go take it. I can -understand a hold-up, or a heel, or a prowl; I can see how a gun reefs a -britch kick and gets a poke--though I couldn't put my hand in a barrel -myself and get it out again--without breaking the barrel. I haven't any -use for that kind, which you know--but these sure-thing games, the big -mitt and the bull con--no, Dan, I can't get hip." - -Gibbs laughed. - -"Well, I can't explain it, Joe. You heard him string that chump -to-night." - -Mason dropped that phase of the question and promptly said: - -"Dan, I suppose there's games higher up, ain't they?" - -Gibbs laughed a superior laugh. - -"Higher up? Joe, there's games that beat his just as much as his beats -yours. I could name you men--" Then he paused. - -Mason had grown very solemn. He was not listening at all to Gibbs, and, -after a moment or two, he looked up and said earnestly: - -"Dan, what you said a while back is dead right. I'm a damn fool. Look -at me now--I've done twenty years, and in all my time I've had less than -two thousand bucks." - -Gibbs was about to speak, but Mason was too serious to let himself be -interrupted. - -"I was thinking it all over to-night, and I decided--know what I -decided?" - -Gibbs shook his head. - -"I decided," Mason went on, "to square it without waiting for the big -touch." Gibbs was not impressed; the good thieves were always -considering reformation. "I know I can't get anything to do--I'm too -old, and besides--well, you know." Mason let the situation speak for -itself. "I'm about all in, but I was thinking, Dan, this here place -you've got in the country, can't you--" Mason hesitated a -little--"can't you let me work around there? Just my board and a few -clothes?" Mason leaned forward eagerly. - -"You know, Joe," said Gibbs, seeing that Mason was serious, "that as -long as I've got a place you can have a home with me. I'm going to take -Kate out there and live. I've got the place almost paid for." - -Mason leaned back, tried to speak, paused, swallowed, and moistened his -lips. - -"I worried about Slim to-night," he managed to say presently. It was -hard for him to give utterance to thoughts that he considered -sentimental. "My treating him so, you see--that I decided; I want to -try it. That's why I wouldn't go with him; he didn't understand, but -maybe I can explain. As I was thinking to-night, my head went off -again--that stir simple, you know." - -He raised his hand to his head and Gibbs was concerned. - -"You'd better take a little drink, Joe," he said. - -After Gibbs had brought the whisky, they sat there and discussed the -future until the early summer dawn was red. - - - - - V - - -Dillon, Archie, Mandell and Squeak had left the city that morning. -Dillon was gloomy and morose because Mason had refused to join him. He -had been disappointed, too, in Curly, but not so much surprised, for -Curly was so strange and mysterious that nothing he might do could -surprise his friends. Cedarville was far away, in Illinois, and long -before daylight the four men had started on their journey in a -freight-train. Dillon's plan was to rob the bank that night. He had -chosen Saturday night because a Sunday would probably intervene before -discovery, and thus give them time to escape. But the journey was beset -by difficulties; the train spent long hours in switching, in cutting out -and putting in cars, and at such times the four men had been compelled -to get off and hide, lest the trainmen detect them. Besides, the train -made long inexplicable stops, standing on a siding, with nothing to mar -the stillness but the tired exhaust of the engine and the drone of the -wide country-side. At noon the empty box-car in which the men had been -riding was cut out and left stranded at a village; after that, unable to -find another empty car, they rode on a car that was laden with lumber, -but this, too, was cut out and left behind. Then they rode in most -uncomfortable and dangerous positions on the timber-heads over the -couplings. Half-way to Cedarville they met the storm. It had been -gathering all the morning, and now it broke suddenly; the rain came down -in torrents, and they were drenched to the skin. Mandell, who was -intensely afraid of lightning, suffered agonies, and threatened to -abandon the mob at the first opportunity. Late in the afternoon, just -as the train was pulling into the village of Romeo, the rear brakeman -discovered them, called the conductor and the front brakeman, and -ordered the men to leave the train. - -"Stick and slug!" cried Mandell, made irritable by the storm. But -Dillon repressed him. - -"Unload!" he commanded. "Don't goat 'em." - -Archie, on the other side of the car, had not been seen clearly by the -trainmen, but the others had, and though Dillon made them all get off, -he could not keep Squeak from stopping long enough to curse the -train-men with horrible oaths. Then the train went on and left them. - -At evening they went into the woods and built a fire. There were -discouragements as to the fire; the wood was wet, but finally they -achieved a blaze, and Dillon went into the village after food. When he -returned the fire was going well, the men had dried their clothes, and -their habitual spirits had returned. In the water of a creek Dillon -washed the can he had found, and made tea; they cooked bacon on pointed -sticks, broke the bread and cheese, and ate their supper. Then, in the -comfort that came of dry clothes and warmth and the first meal they had -eaten that day, they sat about, rolled cigarettes, and waited for the -night. Then darkness fell, Dillon made them put out the fire, and they -tramped across the fields to the railroad. - -"We'll wait here for the John O'Brien," said Dillon, when they came to -the water-tank. "We must get the jug to-night--that'll give us all day -to-morrow for the get-away." - -They waited then, and waited, while the summer night deepened to -silence; once, the headlight of an engine sent its long light streaming -down the track; they made ready; the train came swaying toward them. - -"Hell!" exclaimed Mandell, in the disappointment that was common to all -of them. "It's a rattler!" And the lighted windows of a -passenger-train swept by. - -They waited and waited, and no freight-train came. At midnight, when -they were all stiff and cold, Dillon ordered them into the village. -They were glad enough to go. In the one business street of the town -they found a building in which a light gleamed. They glanced through a -window; it was the post-office. Then Dillon changed his plan in that -ease with which he could change any plan, and forgot the little bank at -Cedarville. He placed Squeak at the rear of the building, Mandell in -the front. - -"Come on, Dutch," he said. - -He took Archie with him because he was not so sure of him as he was of -the two other men, though Archie felt that he had been honored above -them. He followed Dillon into the deep shadows that lay between the -post-office and the building next door. He kept close behind Dillon, -and watched with excitement while Dillon's tall form bent before one of -the windows. Dillon was groping; presently he stood upright, his back -bowed, he strained and grunted and swore, then the screws gave, and -Dillon wrenched the little iron bars from the windows. - -"Come on," he said. - -He was crawling through the window; Archie followed. - -Inside, Dillon stood upright, holding Archie behind him, and peered -about in the dim light from the oil lamp that burned before a tin -reflector on the wall. The safe was in the light. Dillon looked back, -made a mental note of the window's location, and put out the lamp. Then -he lighted a candle and knelt before the safe. - -Archie stood with his revolver in his hand; Dillon laid his on the floor -beside him. Then from the pocket of his coat he drew out some soap; a -moment more and Archie could see him plastering up the crevices about -the door of the safe, leaving but one opening, in the middle of the top -of the door. Then out of the soap he fashioned about this opening a -crude little cup. Archie watched intently. Dillon worked rapidly, -expertly, and yet, as Archie noted, not so rapidly nor so expertly as -Curly had worked. Curly was considered one of the most skilful men in -the business, but Dillon was older and could tell famous tales of the -old days when they had blown gophers--the days when they used to drill -the safes and pour in powder. Dillon's age was telling; his fingers -were clumsy and knotted with rheumatism, and now and then they trembled. - -[Illustration: Archie could see him plastering up the crevices] - -"Now the soup," Dillon was saying, quite to himself, and he poured the -nitroglycerin from a bottle into the little cup he had made of soap. - -"And the string," said Archie, anxious to display his knowledge. - -"Cheese it!" Dillon commanded. - -He was fixing a fulminating cap to the end of a fuse, and he inserted -this into the cup. Then he plastered it all over with soap, picked up -his revolver, lighted the slow fuse from the candle, and, rising -quickly, he stepped back, drawing Archie with him. They stood in a -corner of the room watching the creeping spark; a moment more and there -was the thud of an explosion, and Dillon was springing toward the safe; -he seized the handle, opened the heavy door, and was down with his -candle peering into its dark interior. He went through it rapidly, drew -out the stamps and the currency and the coin. Another moment and they -were outside. Mandell and Squeak were where Dillon had left them. - -"All right," Dillon said. "Lam!" - - - - - VI - - -A week later, returning by a roundabout way, Dillon and his companions -came back to town. That night Dillon, Archie, Squeak, Mandell and Mason -were arrested. When Archie was taken up to the detectives' office and -found himself facing Kouka, his heart sank. - -"Couldn't take a little friendly advice, could you?" said Kouka, -thrusting forward his black face. - -Archie was dumb. - -"Where'd you get that gat?" Kouka demanded. - -Still Archie was dumb. - -"You might as well tell," Kouka said. "Your pals have split on you." - -Archie had heard of that ruse; he did not think any of them would -confess, and he was certain they had not done so when Kouka referred to -his revolver, for no one but Jackson knew where he had got the weapon. -After an hour Kouka gave it up, temporarily at least, and sent Archie -back to the prison. - -The next morning all five men were taken to the office of the -detectives. Besides Kouka, Quinn and Inspector McFee, there were two -others, one of whom the prisoners instantly recognized as Detective -Carney. Dillon and Mason had long known Carney, and respected him; he -was the only detective in the city whom they did respect, for this -silent, undemonstrative man, with the weather-beaten face, white hair -and shrewd blue eyes, had a profound knowledge of all classes of thieves -and their ways. Indeed, this knowledge, which made Carney the most -efficient detective in the city, militated against him with his -superiors; he knew too much for their comfort. As for Kouka and the -other detectives, they were jealous of him, though he never interfered -in their work nor offered suggestion or criticism; but they all felt -instinctively that he contemned them. When Dillon saw Carney his heart -sank; Mason's, on the contrary, rose. Carney gave no sign of -recognition; it was plain that he was a mere spectator. But when Dillon -saw the other man he whispered to Mason out of the corner of his mouth: - -"It's all off." - -This man was a tall, well-built fellow, with iron-gray hair, a ruddy -face and a small black mustache above full red lips; he was dressed in -gray, and he bore himself as something above the other officers present -because he was an United States inspector. His name was Fallen. He -glanced at the five men, and smiled and nodded complacently. - -"I thought it looked like one of your jobs," he said, addressing Dillon -and Mason jointly. Dillon could not refrain from nudging Mason, and in -the same instant he caught Carney's eye. Carney winked quietly, and -Dillon smiled, and to hide the smile, self-consciously ducked his head -and spat out his tobacco. - -"Well," said Fallen, "I'm much obliged to you men." He included McFee -officially, and Kouka and Quinn personally in this acknowledgment. -"I'll have the marshal come for them after dinner. I want Mason there -and Dillon"--he pointed fiercely and menacingly--"and Mandell and that -kid." He was indicating Squeak. "What's your name?" he demanded. - -Squeak hesitated, then said: "Davis." - -Fallen laughed in his superior, federal way, and said: - -"That'll do as well as any." - -Then he looked at Archie. - -"I don't want him," he said. "He doesn't belong to this gang; he wasn't -there. There were only four of them. You can cut him out." - -Kouka and Quinn looked at each other in surprise; they were about to -protest. In Archie's heart, as he watched this little drama, a wild -hope flamed. Carney, too, looked up, showing the first interest he had -evinced. Something in his look deterred Fallen, held his eye. He knew -Carney and his reputation; his glance plainly implied a question. - -"You're wrong on that fellow Mason," said Carney. - -Fallen looked at him, then at Mason; then he smiled his superior smile. - -"Oh, I guess not," he said lightly. He turned away with his complacent, -insulting smile. - -"All right," said Carney. "You've got him wrong, that's all. He's been -here in town for three weeks. Of course, it's nothing to me--'tain't my -business." He plunged his hands in his trousers pockets and walked over -to the window. - -The men in the chained line shuffled uneasily. - -"Do I get out now?" Archie asked. - -Kouka laughed. - -"Yes--when I'm through with you." - -That afternoon Dillon, Mason, Mandell and Squeak were taken to the -county jail on warrants charging them with the robbery of the -post-office at Romeo. - -Gibbs appeared at the jail early that evening, his blue eyes filled with -a distress that made them almost as innocent as they must have been when -he was a little child. - -"I just heard of the pinch," he said apologetically. - -"Didn't they send you word last night?" asked Dillon. - -Gibbs shook his head impatiently, as if it were useless to waste time in -discussing such improbabilities. - -"Never mind," he said. "I'll send a mouthpiece." - -"Yes, do, Dan," said Mason. "We want a hearing." - -"Well, now, leave all that to me, Joe," said Gibbs. "I'll send you some -tobacco and have John fetch in some chuck." - -Gibbs attended to their little wants, but he had difficulty as to the -lawyer. He had, from time to time, employed various lawyers in the -city, being guided in his selections, not by the reputed abilities of -the lawyers, but by his notions of their pull with the authorities. -Formerly he had employed Frisby on the recommendation of Cleary, the -chief of police, with whom Frisby divided such fees, but Frisby's -charges were extortionate, and lately, Gibbs understood, his influence -was waning. In thinking over the other lawyers, he recalled Shelley -Thomas, but Thomas, he found, was on a drunk. At last he decided on -Marriott. - -"There's nothing to it," he said to Marriott, "especially so far as -Mason's concerned; he's a friend of mine. He's in wrong, but these -United States inspectors will job him if they get a chance." - -Marriott wished that Gibbs had retained some other lawyer. The plight -of the men seemed desperate enough. He thought them guilty, and, -besides, he wished to go away on his vacation. But his interest -deepened; he found that he was dealing with a greater power than he -encountered in the ordinary state case; the power, indeed, of the United -States. The officials in the government building were unobliging; -Fallen was positively insulting; from none of them could he receive any -satisfaction. The hearing was not set, and then one evening Fallen -mysteriously disappeared. Marriott was enraged, Gibbs was desperate, and -Marriott found himself sharing Gibbs's concern. - -Dillon and Mandell and Squeak spoke only of proving an alibi; they said -that Gibbs would arrange this for them. This disheartened Marriott, -confirmed his belief in their guilt, and he shrank from placing on the -stand the witnesses Gibbs would supply. And then, one afternoon at the -jail, a strange experience befell him. Mason was looking at him, his -face pressed against the bars; he fixed his eyes on him, and, speaking -slowly, with his peculiar habit of moistening his lips and swallowing -between his words, he said: - -"You think I'm guilty of this, Mr. Marriott." - -Marriott tried to smile, and tried to protest, but his looks must have -belied him. - -"I know you do," Mason went on, "but I'm not, Mr. Marriott. I've done -time--lots of it, but they've got me wrong now. These inspectors will -lie, of course, but I can prove an alibi. What night was the job done?" - -"The twelfth," said Marriott. - -"That was Saturday, wasn't it?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, that night I was in Gibbs's. There was a mob of sure-thing men -in there that night--Ed Dean and the Rat and some others--Gibbs will -tell you. I can't subpoena them--they couldn't help; nobody would -believe them, and they dassen't show, anyway." - -"Are they--" Marriott felt a delicacy in saying the word. - -"Thieves?" said Mason. "Yes--you see how it is." - -"Of course," said Marriott. - -"But," Mason went on, "there was a fellow in there--I don't know his -name--a reporter; he put a piece in his paper the next day about Dean. -Dean was kidding him--Gibbs can tell you. I wish you'd see him--he'll -remember me, and he can fix the time by that piece he wrote." - -Mason paused. - -"I've done nearly twenty years, Mr. Marriott," he said presently. "That -was all right; they done that on the square; this is the first time they -ever had me in wrong. Dillon was with me every time--we worked -together--that'll go against me. And them inspectors don't care--they'd -just as soon job a fellow as not. All I ask now is a fair show. But -those United States courts are a fierce game to put a man up against." - -While Mason was talking a great wave of sympathy swept over Marriott; a -conviction came to him that Mason was telling the truth. - -"But," he said as the thought came to him, "can't Dillon and the others -help you?" - -"Well," Mason hesitated. "They've got themselves to look after. I'd -rather fall myself than to throw them down. You see Gibbs about that -reporter." - -Marriott was convinced that Mason was not deceiving him; he felt a -reproach at his own original lack of faith in the man. As he waited for -the turnkey to unlock the door and let him out, a sickness came over -him. The jail was new; there were many boasts about its modern -construction, its sanitary conditions, and all that, but when he went -out, he was glad of the cool air of the evening--it was wholly different -from the atmosphere inside, however scientifically pure that may have -been. He stopped a moment and looked back at the jail. It lifted its -stone walls high above him; it was all clean, orderly, and -architecturally not bad to look on. The handsome residence of the -sheriff was brilliantly lighted; there were lace curtains at the -windows, and within, doubtless, all the comforts, and yet--the building -depressed Marriott. It struck him, though he could not then tell why, -as a hideous anachronism. He thought of the men mewed within its stone -walls; he could see Dillon's long eager face, ugly with its stubble of -beard; he could see the reproach in Mason's eyes; he could see the -shadowy forms of the other prisoners, walking rapidly up and down the -corridors in their cramped exercises--how many were guilty? how many -innocent? He could not tell; none could tell; they perhaps could not -tell themselves. A great pity for them all filled his breast; he longed -to set them all free. He wished this burden were lifted from him; he -wished Gibbs had never come to him; he wished he could forget Mason--but -he could not, and a great determination seized him to liberate this man, -to prevent this great injustice which was gathering ominously in the -world, drawing within its coils not only Mason, but all those who, like -Fallen and the other officials, were concerned in the business, even -though they remained free in the outer world. And Marriott had one more -thought: if he could not prevent the injustice, would it taint him, too, -as it must taint all who came in contact with it? He shuddered with a -vague, superstitious fear. - -Marriott found Wales, who recalled the evening at Gibbs's, consulted the -files of his newspaper, made sure of the date, and then went with -Marriott to the jail and looked through the bars into Mason's expectant -eyes. He prolonged his inspection, plainly for the effect. Presently -he said: - -"Yes, he was there." - -"You'll swear to it?" asked Marriott. - -"Sure," said Wales, "with pleasure." - -There was relief in Mason's eyes and in his manner, as there was relief -in Marriott's mind. - -"That makes it all right, Joe," he said, and Mason smiled gratefully. -Marriott left the jail happy. His faith was restored. The universe -resumed its order and its reason. After all, he said to himself, -justice will triumph. He felt now that he could await the preliminary -hearing with calmness. Wales's identification of Mason made it certain -that he could establish an alibi for him; he must depend on Gibbs for -the others, but somehow he did not care so much for them; they had not -appealed to him as Mason had, whether because of his conviction that -they were guilty or not, he could not say. The hearing was set for -Thursday at two o'clock, but Marriott looked forward to it with the -assurance that as to Mason, at least, there was no doubt of the outcome. - - - - - VII - - -Although Fallen had told the police they could set Archie free, the -police did not set him free. - -"It's that fellow Kouka," Archie explained to Marriott. "He's got it in -for me; he wants to see me get the gaff." - -That afternoon Archie was legally charged with being a "suspicious -person." The penalty for being thus suspected by the police was a fine -of fifty dollars and imprisonment in the workhouse for sixty days. -Marriott was angry; the business was growing complicated. He began to -fear that he would never get away on his vacation; he was filled with -hatred for Fallen, for Kouka, because just now they personified a system -against which he felt himself powerless; finally, he was angry with -Archie, with Dillon, even with Mason, for their stupidity in getting -into such desperate scrapes. - -"They're fools--that's what they are," he said to himself; "they're -crazy men." But at this thought he softened. When he recalled Mason in -his cell at the jail, and Archie in the old prison at the Central -Station, his anger gave way to pity. He resolved to give up his -vacation, if necessary, and fight for their release. He determined to -demand a jury to try Archie on this charge of suspicion; he knew how -Bostwick and all the attachés of the police court disliked to have a -jury demanded, because it made them trouble. As he walked up the street -he began to arrange the speech he would make in Archie's defense; -presently, he noticed that persons turned and looked at him; he knew he -had been talking to himself, and he felt silly; these people would think -him crazy. This dampened his ardor, crushed his imagination and ruined -his speech. He began to think of Mason again; he would have to let -Archie's case go until after Mason had had a hearing; he must do one -thing at a time. - -Archie had been able to endure the confinement as long as Mason and -Dillon and Mandell and Squeak were there; the five men had formed a -class by themselves; they had a certain superiority in the eyes of the -other prisoners, who were confined for drunkenness, for disturbance, for -fighting, for petty thefts and other insignificant offenses. But when -his companions were taken away, when his own hope of liberty failed, he -grew morose. The city prison was an incredibly filthy place. The walls -dripped always with dampness. High up, a single gas-jet burned -economically in its mantle, giving the place the only light it ever -knew. A bench ran along the wall below it, and on this bench the -prisoners sat all day and talked, or stretched themselves and slept; now -and then, for exercise, they tried chinning themselves from the little -iron gallery that ran around the cells of the upper tier. Twice a day -they were fed on bologna and coffee and bread. At night they were -locked in cells, the lights were put out, and the place became a hideous -bedlam. Men snored from gross dissipations, vermin crawled, rats raced -about, and the drunken men, whose bodies from time to time were thrown -into the place, went mad with terror when they awoke from their stupors, -and cursed and blasphemed. The crawling vermin and the scuttling rats, -the noises that suggested monsters, made their delirium real. The -atmosphere of the prison was foul, compounded of the fumes of alcohol -exhaled by all those gaping mouths, of the feculence of all those filthy -bodies, of the foul odors of the slop-pails, of the germs of all the -diseases that had been brought to the place in forty years. Archie -could not sleep; no one could sleep except those who were overcome by -liquor, and they had awful nightmares. - -His few moments of relief came when the turnkey, a man who had been -embruted by long years of locking other men in the prison, opened the -door, called him with a curse and turned him over to Kouka. Then the -respite ended. He was subjected to new terrors, to fresh horrors, -surpassing those physical terrors of the night by infinity. For Kouka -and Quinn took him into a little room off the detectives' office, closed -and locked the door, and then for two hours questioned him about the -robbery of the post-office at Romeo, about countless other robberies in -the city and out of it; they accused him of a hundred crimes, pressed -him to tell where he had stolen the revolver. They bent their wills -against his, they shook their fingers under his nose, their fists in his -face; they told him they knew where he had got the revolver; they told -him that his companions had confessed. He was borne down and beaten; he -felt himself grow weak and faint; at times a nausea overcame him--he was -wringing with perspiration. - -The first day of this ordeal he sat in utter silence, sustained by -dogged Teutonic stubbornness. That afternoon they renewed the torture; -still he did not reply. - -The morning of the second day, though weakened in body and mind, he -still maintained his stubbornness; that afternoon they had brought McFee -with a fresh will to bear on him. By evening he told them he had stolen -the revolver in Chicago. He did this in the hope of peace. It did gain -him a respite, but not for long. The next morning they told him he had -lied and he admitted it; then he gave them a dozen explanations of his -possession of the revolver, all different and all false. Then, toward -evening, Kouka suddenly fell upon him, knocked him from his chair with a -blow, and then, as he lay on the floor, beat him with his enormous hairy -fists. Quinn, the only other person in the room, stood by and looked -on. Finally, Quinn grew alarmed and said: - -"Cheese it, Ike! Cheese it!" - -Kouka stopped and got up. - -Archie was weeping, his whole body trembling, his nerves gone. That -night he lay moaning in his hammock, and the man in the cell under him -and the man in the cell next him, cursed him. In the morning they took -him again up to the detective's office; this was the morning of the -third day. Archie was in a daze, his mind was no longer clear, and he -wondered vaguely, but with scarcely any interest, why it was that Kouka -looked so smiling and pleasant. - -"Set down, Arch, old boy," Kouka said, "and let me tell you all about -it." - -And then Kouka told him just where he had stolen the revolver, and when, -and how--told him, indeed, more about the hardware store and the owners -of it than Archie had ever known. And yet Archie did not seem surprised -at this. He felt numbly that it was no longer worth while to deny -it--he wondered why he ever had denied it in the first place. It did -not matter; nothing mattered; there was no difference between -things--they were all the same. But presently his mind became suddenly -clear; he was conscious that there was one unanswered question in the -world. - -"Say, Kouka," he said, "how did you tumble?" - -Kouka laughed. He was in fine humor that morning. - -"Oh, it's no use, my boy," he said; "it's no use; you can't fool your -Uncle Isaac. You'd better 'ave taken his advice long ago--and been a -good boy." - -"That's all right," said Archie, a strange calm having come to him -because of the change in the world, "but who put you wise?" - -Kouka looked at Quinn and smiled, and then he said to Archie: - -"Oh, what you don't know won't hurt you." - -Then he had Archie taken back to the prison, but before they locked him -up Kouka gave him a box of cigarettes he had taken from a prostitute -whom he had arrested the night before, and he left Archie leaning -against the door of the prison smoking one of the cigarettes. - -"What have they been doing to you?" asked a prisoner. - -"The third degree," said Archie laconically. - -The knowledge which Kouka preferred to shroud in mystery had been -obtained in a simple way. Glancing over the records in the detective's -office, he had by chance come across an old report of the robbery of a -hardware store. Kouka had taken the revolver found on Archie to the -merchant, and the merchant had identified it. That evening Marriott -read in the newspapers conspicuous accounts of the brilliant work of -Detective Kouka in solving the mystery that had surrounded a desperate -burglary. The articles gave Kouka the greatest praise. - - - - - VIII - - -The United States court-room had been closed ever since court adjourned -in May, but when it was thrown open for the hearing of the case against -Dillon and Mason and the rest, it was immediately imbued with the -atmosphere of federal authority. This atmosphere, cold, austere and -formal, smote Marriott like a blast the moment he pushed through the -green baize doors. - -The great court-room was furnished in black walnut; the dark walls -immediately absorbed the light that came through the tall windows. On -the wall behind the bench was an oil portrait of a former judge; -Marriott could see it now in the slanting light--the grave and solemn -face, smooth-shaven, with the fine white hair above it, expressing -somehow the older ideals of the republic. On the wall, laureled Roman -fasces were painted in gilt. The whole room was somber and gloomy, -suggesting the power of a mighty government poised menacingly above its -people; there were hints of authority and old precedents in that -atmosphere. - -The reason the room held this atmosphere was that the judge who -ordinarily sat on the bench had been appointed to his position for life, -and there were no real checks on his power. For twenty years before he -had been appointed this man had been the attorney for great -corporations, had amassed a fortune in their promotion and defense, and, -as a result, his sympathies and prejudices were with the rich and -powerful. He knew nothing of the common currents and impulses of -humanity, having never been brought in contact with the people; the -almost unlimited power he wielded, and was to wield until he died, made -him, quite naturally, autocratic, and he had impressed his character on -the room and on all who held official positions there. The clerks, -commissioners and assistant prosecutors whom he appointed imitated him -and acquired his habits of thought, for they received his opinions just -as they received his orders. - -Marriott sat at the table and waited, and while he waited looked about. -He looked at Wilkison, the commissioner; the judge had appointed him to -his place; the amount of fees he received depended entirely on the -number of cases the district attorney and his assistants brought before -him; consequently, there being two commissioners, he wished to have the -good will of the district attorney, and always reached decisions that -would please him. - -Dalrymple, the assistant district attorney, was a good-looking young man -with a smooth-shaven, regular face that might have been pleasant, but, -because of his new importance, it now wore a stern and forbidding -aspect. He was dressed in new spring clothes; the trousers were rolled -up at the bottoms, showing the low tan shoes which just then had come -again into vogue. He wore a pink flannel shirt of exquisite texture; on -this flannel shirt was a white linen collar. This combination produced -an effect which was thought to give him the final touch of aristocracy -and refinement. When he was not talking to Wilkison or to Fallen, he -was striding about the court-room with his hands in his trousers -pockets. Once he stopped, drew a silver case from his pocket and -lighted a cigarette made with his monogram on the paper. - -Marriott turned from Dalrymple with disgust; he looked beyond the -railing, and there, on the walnut benches, sat Gibbs, with a retinue -that made Marriott smile. They must have come in when Marriott was -preoccupied, for he was surprised to see them. Gibbs sat on the end of -one bench, as uncomfortable and ill at ease as he would have been in a -pew at church. He was shaved to a pinkness, his hair was combed smooth, -and he was very solemn. Marriott could easily see that the atmosphere -of the court-room oppressed and cowed him; he had lost his native -bearing, and had suddenly grown meek, humble and afraid. Marriott knew -none of the others; there were half a dozen men, none of them dressed as -well as Gibbs, with strange visages, marked by crime and suffering, all -the more touching because they were so evidently unconscious of these -effects. The heads ranged along the bench were of strange shapes, -startlingly individual in one sense, very much alike in another. They -were all solemn, afraid to speak, bearing themselves self-consciously, -like children suddenly set out before the public. On one bench sat a -young girl, and something unmistakable in her eyes, in her mouth, in the -clothes she wore--she had piled on herself all the finery she had--told -what she was. Her toilet, on which she had spent such enormous pains, -produced the very effect the womanhood left in her had striven to avoid. - -Marriott smiled, until he detected the deep concern which Gibbs was -trying to hide; then his heart was touched, as the toilet of the girl -had touched it. Marriott knew that these people were the witnesses by -whom Gibbs expected to establish an alibi for Dillon and Squeak and -Mandell; the sight of them did not reassure him; he had again that -disheartening conviction of the utter lack of weight their appearance -would carry with any court; he did not credit them himself, and he began -to feel a shame for offering such witnesses. He was half decided, -indeed, not to put them forward. But his greater concern came with the -thought of Mason, whom he believed to be innocent; where, he suddenly -wondered, was the reporter Wales? - -But just at this moment the green baize doors of the court-room swung -inward and suddenly all the people in the court-room--Dalrymple, Fallen, -Wilkison, Marriott, Gibbs, the clerks and the reporters, the bailiff and -the group Gibbs had brought up with him from the under world--forgot the -distinctions and prejudices and hatreds that separated them, yielded to -the claims of their common humanity and became as one in the eager -curiosity which concentrated all their interest on the entering -prisoners. - -They came in a row, chained together by handcuffs, in charge of deputy -marshals. They were marched within the bar, still wearing the hats they -could not remove. The United States marshal himself and another deputy -came forward and joined the deputies in charge of the prisoners. The -officers took off their hats for them, and when they took chairs at the -table, stood close beside them, as if to give the impression that the -prisoners were most dangerous and desperate characters, and that they -themselves were officials with the highest regard for their duty. - -Wilkison, with great deliberation, was seating himself at the clerk's -desk. Ordinarily he held hearings in an anteroom, but as this hearing -would be reported in the newspapers he felt justified in using the -court-room; besides, he could then test some of the sensations of a -judge. - -"Aren't you going to unhandcuff these men?" said Marriott to the -marshal. - -The marshal merely smiled in a superior official way, and the smile -completed the rage that had seized on Marriott when the deputies -stationed themselves behind the prisoners. Marriott felt in himself all -the evil and all the hatred that were in the hearts of these officers; -he felt all the hatred that was gathering about these prisoners; it -seemed that every one there wished to revenge himself personally on -them. Fallen, sitting beside Dalrymple, had an air of directing the -whole proceeding, as if his duties did not end with the apprehension of -his prisoners, but required him to see that the assistant district -attorney, the commissioner and the rest did their whole duty. He sat -there with the two rosy spots on his plump cheeks glowing a deeper red, -his blue eyes gloating. Marriott restrained himself by an effort; he -needed all his faculties now. - -"The case of the United States _versus_ Dillon and others." Wilkison -was officially fingering the papers on his desk. "Are the defendants -ready for hearing?" - -"We're ready, yes," said Marriott, plainly excluding from his words and -manner any of the respect for the court ordinarily simulated by lawyers. -Mason, sitting beside him, and Dillon and the rest followed with eager -glances every movement, listened to every word. They forgot the -handcuffs, and fastened their eyes on Fallen standing up to be sworn. -When the oath had been administered, Dalrymple put the stereotyped -preliminary questions and then asked him who the defendants were. Fallen -pointed to them one after another and pronounced their names as he did -so. When he had done this Dalrymple turned, looked at Marriott with his -chin in the air, and said pertly: - -"Take the witness." - -Marriott was surprised and puzzled; the suspicions that he had all along -held were increased. - -"How many witnesses will you have?" he asked. - -"This is all," said Dalrymple with an impertinent movement of the lip, -"except this." He held up a legal document. "This certified copy of an -indictment--" - -At the word "indictment" the truth flashed on Marriott. He understood -now; this explained the delay, the stealth, the subterfuge of which he -had been dimly conscious for days; this explained the conduct of the -officials; this explained Fallen's absence--he had gone to Illinois, -secured the indictment of the four men, and returned. And this was not -a preliminary hearing at all; it was a mere formality for the purpose of -removing the prisoners to the jurisdiction in which the crime had been -committed. He saw now that he would not be allowed to offer any -testimony; nothing could be done. The men would be tried in Illinois, -where they could have no witnesses, for the law, as he remembered, -provided that process for witnesses to testify on behalf of defendant -could not be issued beyond a radius of one hundred miles of the court -where they were tried; they were poor, they could not pay to transport -witnesses, and now the alibis for Dillon and Squeak and Mandell could -not be established, and Mason could not have the benefit of Wales's -testimony, unless depositions were used, and he knew what a farce -depositions are. He had been tricked. It was all legal, of course, but -he had been tricked, that was all, and he was filled with mortification -and shame and rage. - -"Mr. Marriott," Wilkison was saying in his most impartial tone, "do you -wish to examine this witness?" - -Marriott was recalled. He looked at Fallen, waiting there in the -witness-chair, pulling at his little mustache, the pink spots in his -cheeks glowing, and his eyes striving for an expression of official -unconcern. Marriott questioned Fallen, but without heart. He tried to -break the force of his identification, but Fallen was positive. They -were Joseph Mason, James Dillon, Louis Skinner, alias Squeak, and -Stephen Mandell. When Marriott had finished, Dalrymple rose and said: - -"Your Honor, we offer as evidence a certified copy of an indictment -returned by the grand jury at this present term, and the government -rests." - -He looked in triumph at Marriott. - -The prisoners were leaning eagerly over the table under which they hid -their shackled hands, not understanding in the least the forces that -were playing with them. Dillon's long, unshaven face was suspended -above the green felt, his eyes, bright with excitement and deepest -interest, shifting quickly from Dalrymple to Marriott and then back -again to Dalrymple. Mason's eyes went from one to the other of the -lawyers, but his gaze was easier, not so swift, hardly so interested. A -slight smile lurked beneath the mask he wore, and the commissioner -decided with pleasure that this smile proved Mason's guilt, a conclusion -which he found it helpful to communicate to Dalrymple after the hearing. -Mandell and Squeak wore heavy expressions; the realization of their fate -had not yet struggled to consciousness. In fact, they did not know what -had happened, and they were trying to learn from a study of the -expressions of Dalrymple and Marriott. - -Dalrymple continued to look at Marriott in the pride he felt at having -beaten him. Because he had really been unfair and had practised a sharp -trick on Marriott, he disliked him. This dislike showed now in -Dalrymple's glance, as it had been expressed in the sharp, important -voice in which he had put his questions during the hearing. He had -spoken with an affected accent, and had objected to every question that -Marriott asked on cross-examination. He had learned to speak in this -affected accent at college, where he had spent four years, after which -he had spent three other years at a law school; consequently, he knew -little of that life from which he had been withdrawn for those seven -years, knew nothing of its significance, or meaning, or purpose, and, of -course, nothing of human nature. The stern and forbidding aspect in -which he tried to mask a countenance that might have been good-looking -and pleasing, had it worn a natural and simple expression, was amusing -to those who, like Dillon and Mason, were older and wiser men. -Dalrymple had no views or opinions or principles of his own; those he -had, like his clothes and his accent, had been given him by his parents -or the teachers his parents had hired; he had accepted all the ideas and -prejudices of his own class as if they were axioms. He felt it a fine -thing to be there in the United States court in an official capacity -that made every one look at him, and, as he supposed, envy him; that -gave an authority to anything he said. He thought it an especially fine -thing to represent the government. He used this word frequently, saying -"the government feels," or "the government wishes," or "the government -understands," speaking, indeed, as if he were the government himself. -The power behind him was tremendous; an army stood ready at the last to -back up his sayings, his opinions, and his mistakes. Against such a -power, of course, Dillon and Mason, who were poor, shabby men, had no -chance. Dalrymple, to be sure, had no notion of what he was doing to -these men; no notion of how he was affecting their lives, their futures, -perhaps their souls. He was totally devoid of imagination and incapable -of putting himself in the place of them or of any other men, except -possibly those who were dressed as he was dressed and spoke with similar -affectation. He did not consider Dillon and Mason men, or human beings -at all, but another kind of organism or animate life, expressed to him -by the word "criminal." He did not consider what happened to them as -important; the only things that were important to him were, first, to be -dressed in a correct fashion, and modestly, that is, to be dressed like -a gentleman; secondly, to see to it that his sympathies and influence -were always on the side of the rich, the well-dressed, the respectable -and the strong, and to maintain a wide distinction between himself and -the poor, disreputable and ill-clad, and, thirdly, to bear always, -especially when in court or about the government building, an important -and wise demeanor. He felt, indeed, that in becoming an assistant -United States district attorney, he had become something more than a -mere man; that because a paper had been given him with an eagle printed -on it and a gilt seal, a paper on which his name and the words by which -he was designated had been written, he had become something more than a -mere human being. The effect of all this was revealed in the look with -which he now regarded Marriott. - -Marriott, however, did not look at Dalrymple; he wished Dalrymple to -feel the contempt he had for him, and after a moment he rose and -addressed the commissioner. - -The commissioner straightened himself in his chair; his face was very -long and very solemn. He did not listen to what Marriott was saying; -having conferred with Dalrymple before the hearing and read a decision -which Dalrymple had pointed out to him in a calf-bound report, he was -now arranging in his mind the decision he intended to give presently. - -Marriott, of course, realized the hopelessness of his case, but he did -not think it becoming to give in so easily, or, at least, without making -a speech. He began to argue, but Wilkison interrupted him and said: - -"This whole question is fully discussed in the Yarborough case, where -the court held that in a removal proceeding no testimony can be -presented in behalf of the defense." - -Then Wilkison announced his decision, saying that Marriott's witnesses -could be heard at the proper time and place, that is, on the trial, -where he said the rights of the defendants would be fully conserved. -Feeling that his use of this word "conserved" was happy and appropriate -and had a legal sound, he repeated it several times, and concluded by -saying: - -"The defendants will be remanded to the custody of the marshal for -removal." - -The marshal and his deputies tapped the prisoners on the shoulders. -Just then there was a slight commotion; Gibbs had pushed by the bailiff -and was coming forward. He came straight up to the men. The marshal -put out a hand to press him back, but Marriott said: - -"Oh, let him talk to them a minute. Good God--!" - -The marshal glared at Marriott, and then gave way. - -"But he wants to be quick about it," he threatened. - -Gibbs leaned over Mason's shoulder. - -"Well, Joe," he said. - -"I'm kangarooed, Dan," said Mason. - -"It looks that way," said Gibbs. - -"Dan, I want you to do something for me--I want you to send me some -tobacco. You know you can get those clippings in pound packages; they -only cost a quarter." - -Gibbs looked hurt. - -"Joe," he said, "I've known you for forty years, and that's the only -mean thing you ever said to me." - -"Well, don't get sore, Dan," Mason said. "I knew you would--only--" - -The marshal cut them short and marched the prisoners out of the -court-room. Outside in the street the prison-van was waiting, the van -that had been ordered before the hearing, to take the prisoners to the -station. - - - - - IX - - -It was several days before Marriott saw Gibbs again, and then he -appeared at Marriott's office with a companion and leaned for an instant -unsteadily against the door he had carefully closed. Marriott saw that -he was changed, and that it was the change drink makes in a man. Gibbs -sank helplessly into a chair, and stared at Marriott blankly. He was -not the clean, well-dressed man Marriott had beheld in him before. He -was unshaven, and the stubble of his beard betrayed his age by its -whiteness; the pupils of his eyes were dilated, his lips stained with -tobacco. His shoes were muddy, one leg of his trousers was turned up; -and his lack of a collar seemed the final proof of that moral -disintegration he could not now conceal. When he had been there a -moment the atmosphere was saturated with the odor of alcohol. - -"My friend, Mr. McDougall," said Gibbs, toppling unsteadily in his -chair, as he waved one fat hand at his companion, a heavy blond fellow, -six feet tall, well dressed and dignified. - -"I've gone to the bad," said Gibbs. Marriott looked at him in silence. -The fact needed no comment. - -"The way those coppers jobbed Mason was too much for me," Gibbs went on. -"Worst I ever seen. I couldn't stand for it, it put me to the bad." - -"Well, you won't do him any good, at that--" McDougall began. - -"Aw, to hell with you!" said Gibbs, waving McDougall aside with a sweep -of his arm. The movement unsettled him in his chair, and he steadied -himself by digging his heels into the rug. Then he drew a broken cigar -from his coat pocket, struck a match, and held it close to his nose; it -took him a long time to light his cigar; he puffed hurriedly, but could -not keep the cigar in the flame; before he finished he had burned his -fingers, and Marriott felt a pain as Gibbs shook the match to the floor. - -"He hasn't touched a drop for five years," said McDougall indulgently. -"But when they kangarooed Mason--" - -McDougall looked at Gibbs, not in regret or pity, nor with disapproval, -but as one might look at a woman stricken with some recent grief. To -him, getting drunk seemed to be as natural a way of expressing emotion -as weeping or wringing the hands. Marriott gazed on the squalid little -tragedy of a long friendship, gazed a moment, then turned away, and -looked out of his window. Above the hideous roofs he could see the -topmasts of schooners, and presently a great white propeller going down -the river. It was going north, to Mackinac, to the Soo, to Duluth, and -the sight of it filled Marriott with a longing for the cold blue waters -and the sparkling air of the north. - -Gibbs evidently had come to talk about Mason's case, but when he began -to speak his voice was lost somewhere in his throat; his head sank, he -appeared to sink into sleep. McDougall glanced at him and laughed. Then -he turned seriously to Marriott. - -"It was an outrage," he said. "Mason has been right here in town--I saw -him that day. He ought to be alibied." - -"Couldn't you testify?" asked Marriott. - -McDougall looked at Marriott with suspicion, and hesitated. But -suddenly Gibbs, whom they had supposed to be asleep, said impatiently, -without opening his eyes: - -"Oh, hell!--go on and tell him. He's a right guy, I tell you. He's -wise to the gun." And Gibbs slumbered again. - -"Well," said McDougall with a queer expression, "my business is -unfortunately of such a nature that it can't stand much investigation, -and I don't make the best witness in the world." - -Gibbs suddenly sat up, opened his eyes, and drew an enormous roll of -money from his pocket. - -"How much do I owe you?" he asked, unrolling the bills. "It comes out -of me," he said. Marriott was disappointed in this haggling appeal, not -for his own sake, but for Gibbs's; it detracted from the romantic figure -he had idealized for the man, just as Gibbs's intoxication had done. -Marriott hesitated in the usual difficulty of appraising professional -services, but when, presently, he rather uncertainly fixed his fee, -Gibbs counted out the amount and gave it to him. Marriott took the -money, with a wonder as to where it had come from, what its history was; -he imagined in a flash a long train of such transactions as McDougall -must be too familiar with, of such deeds as had been involved in the -hearing before the commissioner, of other transactions, intricate, -remote, involved, confused in morals--and he thrust the bills into his -pocket. - -"It comes out of me," Gibbs explained again. "They hadn't any fall -money." - -"Have you heard from them?" asked Marriott, who did not know what fall -money was, and wished to change the subject. - -"No," said Gibbs, shaking his head. "I'm going out to the trial. I'll -take along that newspaper guy and some witnesses for the others. I'll -get 'em a mouthpiece. Maybe we can spring 'em." - -But, as Marriott learned several days later, Gibbs could not spring -them. He went to the trial with an entourage of miserable witnesses, -but he did not take Wales, for Wales's newspaper would not give him -leave of absence, and there was no process to compel his attendance. -But Kouka and Quinn went, and they gave Gibbs such a reputation that his -testimony was impeached. He could not, of course, take Dean. Dean's -business, like McDougall's, was unfortunately of such a nature that it -did not stand investigation, and he did not make the best witness in the -world. Mason and Dillon and Mandell and Squeak were sentenced to the -penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth for five years. At about the same time -Archie Koerner pleaded guilty to stealing the revolver and was sentenced -to prison for a year. - -Marriott left at last for his vacation, but he could not forget Mason -taking his unjust fate so calmly and philosophically. He had great pity -for him, just as he had for Archie, though one was innocent and the -other guilty. He had pity for Dillon, too, and, yes, for Mandell and -Squeak. He thought of it all, trying to find some solution, but there -was no solution. It was but one more knot in the tangle of injustice -man has made of his attempts to do justice; a tangle that Marriott could -not unravel, nor any one, then or ever. - - - - - X - - -Like most of the great houses along Claybourne Avenue, the dwelling of -the Wards wore an air of loneliness and desolation all that summer. -With Mrs. Ward and Elizabeth in Europe, the reason for maintaining the -establishment ceased to be; and the servants were given holidays. -Barker was about for a while each day looking after things, and Gusta -came to set the house in order. But these transient presences could not -give the place its wonted life; the curtains were down, the furniture -stood about in linen covers, the pictures were draped in white cloth. -At evening a light showed in the library, where Ward sat alone, smoking, -trying to read, and, as midnight drew on, starting now and then at the -strange, unaccountable sounds that are a part of the phenomena of the -stillness of an empty house. He would look up from his book, listen, -wait, sigh, listen again, finally give up, go to bed, worry a while, -fall asleep, be glad when morning came and he could lose himself for -another day in work. Dick never came in till long after midnight, and -Ward seldom saw him, save on those few mornings when the boy was up -early enough to take breakfast with him at the club. Such mornings made -the whole day happy for Ward. - -But the few hours she spent each day in the empty house were happy hours -for Gusta Koerner. She was not, of course, a girl in whom feeling could -become thought, or sensation find the relief of expression; she belonged -to the class that because it is dumb seems not to suffer, but she had a -sense of change in the atmosphere. She missed Elizabeth, she missed the -others, she missed the familiar figures that once had made the place all -it had been to her. But she loved it, nevertheless, and if it seemed to -hold no new experiences for her, there were old experiences to be lived -over again. - -At first the loneliness and the emptiness frightened her, but she grew -accustomed; she no longer started at the mysterious creakings and -tappings in the untenanted rooms, and each morning, after her work was -done, she lingered, and wandered idly about, looked at herself in the -mirrors, gazed out of the windows into Claybourne Avenue, sometimes -peeped into the books she could so little understand. - -Occasionally she would have chats with Barker, but she did not often see -him; he was always busy in the stables. Ward and Dick were gone before -she got there. But the peace and quiet of the deserted mansion were -grateful, and Gusta found there a sense of rest and escape that for a -long time she had not known. She found this sense of escape all the more -grateful after Archie's trouble. He had not been at home in a long -time, and they had heard nothing of him; then, one evening she learned -of his latest trouble in those avid chroniclers of trouble, the -newspapers. Her father, who would not permit the mention of his son's -name, nevertheless plainly had him on his mind, for he grew more than -ever gloomy, morose and irritable. And then, to make matters worse, one -Saturday evening Charlie Peltzer threw it up to Gusta, and they parted -in anger. On Sunday afternoon she went to see Archie at the jail, and -stayed so late that it was twilight before she got to the Wards'. She -had never had the blues so badly before; her quarrel with Peltzer, her -father's scolding, her mother's sighs and furtive tears, her own visit -to the prison, all combined to depress her, and now, in the late and -lonesome Sunday afternoon she did her work hurriedly, and was just about -to let herself out of the door when it opened suddenly, and Dick Ward, -bolting in, ran directly against her. - -"Hello! Beg pardon--is that you, 'Gusta?" he said. - -"Oh!" she exclaimed, leaning against the wall, "you scared me!" - -Dick laughed. - -"Well, that's too bad; I had no idea," he said. - -She had raised her clasped hands to her chin, and still kept the -shrinking attitude of her fright. Dick looked at her, prettier than -ever in her sudden alarm, and on an impulse he seized her hands. - -"Don't be scared," he said. "I wouldn't frighten you for the world." - -She was overwhelmed with weakness and confusion. She shrank against the -wall and turned her head aside; her heart was beating rapidly. - -"I--I'm late to-day," she said. "I ought to have been here this -morning." - -"I'm glad you weren't," said Dick, looking at her with glowing eyes. - -"I must hurry"---she tried to slip away. "I--must be going home, it's -getting late; you--you must let me go." - -She scarcely knew what she was saying; she spoke with averted face, her -cheeks hot and flaming. He gazed at her steadily a moment; then he -said: - -"Never mind. I'll take you home in my machine. May I?" - -She looked at him in wonderment. What did he mean? Was he in earnest? - -"May I?" he pressed her hands for emphasis, and gazed into her eyes -irresistibly. - -"Yes," she said, "if you'll--let me--go now." - -Suddenly he kissed her on the lips; there was a rustle, a struggle, he -kissed her again, then released her, left her trembling there in the -hall, and bounded up the stairs. - -"Wait a minute!" he called. "I came home to get something. You'll -wait?" - -Gusta was dazed, her mind was in a whirl, she felt utterly powerless; -but instinctively she slipped through the door and out on to the -veranda. The air reassured and restored her. She felt that she should -run away, and yet, there was Dick's automobile in the driveway; she had -never been in an automobile, and-- She thought of Charlie -Peltzer--well, it would serve him right. And then, before she could -decide, Dick was beside her. - -"Jump in," he said, glancing up and down the avenue, now dusky in the -twilight. They went swiftly away in the automobile, but they did not go -straight to Bolt Street--they took a long, roundabout course that ended, -after all, too suddenly. The night was warm and Gusta was lifted above -all her cares; she had a sensation as of flying through the soft air. -Dick stopped the machine half a block from the house, and Gusta got out, -excited from her swift, reckless ride. But, troubled as she was, she -felt that she ought to thank Dick. He only laughed and said: - -"We'll go again for a longer ride. What do you say to to-morrow night?" - -She hesitated, tried to decide against him, and before she could decide, -consented. - -"Don't forget," he said, "to-morrow evening." He leaned over and -whispered to her. He was shoving a lever forward and the automobile was -starting. - -"Don't forget," he said, and then he was gone and Gusta stood looking at -the vanishing lights of the machine. Just then Charlie Peltzer stepped -out of the shadows. - -"So!" he said, looking angrily into her face. "So that's it, is it? -Oh--I saw you!" - -"Go away!" she said. - -He snatched at her, caught her by the wrist. - -"Go away, is it?" he exclaimed fiercely. "I've caught you this time!" - -"Let me alone!" - -"Yes, I will! Oh, yes, I'll let you alone! And him, too; I'll fix -him!" - -"Let me go, I tell you!" she cried, trying to escape. "Let me go!" She -succeeded presently in wrenching her wrist out of his grasp. "You hurt -me!" She clasped the wrist he had almost crushed. "I hate you! I don't -want anything more to do with you!" - -She left him standing there in the gloom. She hurried on; it was but a -few steps to the door. - -"Gusta!" he called. "Gusta! Wait!" - -But she hurried on. - -"Gusta! Wait a minute!" - -She hesitated. There was something appealing in his voice. - -"Oh, Gusta!" he repeated. "Won't you wait?" - -She felt that he was coming after her. Then something, she knew not -what, got into her, she felt ugly and hateful, and hardened her heart. -She cast a glance back over her shoulder and had a glimpse of Peltzer's -face, a pale, troubled blur in the darkness. She ran into the house, -utterly miserable and sick at heart. - -Gusta could not thereafter escape this misery; it was with her all the -time, and her only respite was found in the joy that came to her at -evening, when regularly, at the same hour, under the same tree, at the -same dark spot in Congress Street, she met Dick Ward. And so it began -between them. - - - - - XI - - -The way from the station to the penitentiary was long, but Sheriff -Bentley, being a man of small economies, had decided to walk, and after -the long journey in the smoking-car, Archie had been glad to stretch his -legs. The sun lay hot on the capital city; it was nearly noon, and -workmen, tired from their morning's toil, were thinking now of -dinner-buckets and pipes in the shade. They glanced at Archie and the -sheriff as they passed, but with small interest. They saw such sights -every day and had long ago grown used to them, as the world had; -besides, they had no way of telling which was the criminal and which the -custodian. - -Archie walked rapidly along, his head down, and a little careless smile -on his face, chatting with the sheriff. On the way to the capital, -Bentley had given him cigars, let him read the newspapers, and told him -a number of vulgar stories. He was laughing then at one; the sheriff -had leaned over to tell him the point of it, though he had difficulty in -doing so, because he could not repress his own mirth. They were passing -under a viaduct on which a railroad ran over the street. A switch-engine -was going slowly along, and the fireman leaned out of the cab window. -He wore, oddly enough, a battered old silk hat; he wore it in some -humorous conceit that caricatured the grandeur and dignity the hat in -its day had given some other man, whose face was not begrimed as was the -comical face of this fireman, whose hands were not calloused as was the -hand that slowly, almost automatically, pulled the bell-cord. That old -plug hat gave the fireman unlimited amusement and consolation, as he -thrust it from his cab window while he rode up and down the railroad -yards. Archie looked up and caught the fireman's eye; the fireman -winked drolly, confidentially, and waved his free arm with a graceful, -abandoned gesture that conveyed a salutation of brotherliness and -comradeship; Archie smiled and waved his free arm in recognition. - -And then they stepped out of the shade of the viaduct into the sun -again, and Archie's smile went suddenly from his face. They were at the -penitentiary. The long wall stretched away, lifting its gray old stones -twelve feet above their heads. Along its coping of broad overhanging -flags was an iron railing; coming to the middle of a man, and at every -corner, and here and there along the wall, were the sentry-boxes, black -and weather-beaten, and sinister because no sentry was anywhere in -sight. Archie looked, and he did not hear the dénouement of the -sheriff's story, which, after all, was just as well. - -Midway of the block the wall jutted in abruptly and joined itself to a -long building of gray stone, with three tiers of barred windows, but an -ivy vine had climbed over the stones and hidden the bars as much as it -could. A second building lifted its Gothic towers above the center of -the grim facade, and beyond was another building like the first, wherein -the motive of iron bars was repeated; then the climbing ivy and the gray -wall again, stretching away until it narrowed in the perspective. -Before the central building were green lawns and flower-beds, delightful -to the eyes of the warden's family, whose quarters looked on the free -world outside; delightful, too, to the eyes of the legislative -committees and distinguished visitors who came to preach and give advice -to the men within the walls, who never saw the flowers. - -Archie and the sheriff turned into the portico. In the shade, several -men were lounging about. They wore the gray prison garb, but their -clothes had somehow the effect of uniforms; they were clean, neatly -brushed, and well fitted. They glanced up as Archie and the sheriff -entered, and one of them sprang to his feet. On his cap Archie saw the -words, "Warden's Runner." He was young, with a bright though pale face, -and he stepped forward expectantly, thinking of a tip. He was about to -speak, but suddenly his face fell, and he did not say what had been on -his lips. He uttered, instead, a short, mistaken, - -"Oh!" - -The sheriff laughed, and then with the knowledge and familiarity men -love so much to display, he went on: - -"Thought we wanted to see the prison, eh? Well, I've seen it, and the -boy here'll see more'n he wants." - -The warden's runner smiled perfunctorily and was about to turn away, -when Bentley spoke again: - -"How long you in for?" he asked. - -"Life," said the youth, and then went back to his bench. He did not -look up again, though Archie glanced back at him over his shoulder. - -"Trusties," Bentley explained. "They've got a snap." - -In the office, where many clerks were busy, they waited; presently a -sallow young man came out from behind a railing. The sheriff unlocked -his handcuffs and blew on the red bracelet the steel had left about his -wrist. - -"Hot day," said the sheriff, wiping his brow. The sallow clerk, on whom -the official air sat heavily, ignored this and said: - -"Let's have your papers." - -He looked over the commitments with a critical legal scowl that seemed -to pass finally on all that the courts had done, and signaled to a -receiving guard. - -"Good-by, Archie." Bentley held out his hand. - -"Good-by," said Archie. - -"Come on," said the receiving guard, tossing his long club to his -shoulder in a military way. The great steel door in the guard-room -swung open; the guard sitting lazily in a worn chair at the double inner -gates threw back the lever, and the receiving guard and Archie entered -the yard. - -It was a large quadrangle, surrounded by the ugly prison houses, with -the chapel and the administration building in the center. Archie -glanced about, and presently he discerned in the openings between the -buildings companies of men, standing at ease. A whistle blew heavily, -the companies came to attention, and then began to march across the -yard. They marched in sets of twos, with a military scrape and shuffle, -halted now and then to dress their intervals, marked time, then went on, -massed together in the lock-step. As they passed, the men looked at -Archie, some of them with strange smiles. But Archie knew none of them; -not Delaney, with the white hair; not the Pole, who had been convicted -of arson; not the Kid, nor old Deacon Sammy, who still wore his -gold-rimmed glasses, nor Harry Graves. Their identity was submerged, -like that of all the convicts in that prison, like that of all the -forgotten prisoners in the world. The men marched by, company after -company, until enough to make a regiment, two regiments, had passed -them. A guard led Archie across the yard to the administration -building. As they entered, a long, lean man, whose lank legs stretched -from his easy chair half-way across the room, it seemed, to cock their -heels on a desk, turned and looked at them. He was smoking a cigar very -slowly, and he lifted his eyelids heavily. His eyes were pale blue--for -some reason Archie shuddered. - -"Here's a fresh fish, Deputy," said the guard. - -The deputy warden of the prison, Ball, flecked the ashes from his cigar. - -"Back again, eh?" he said. - -Archie stared, and then he said: - -"I've never stirred before." - -"The hell you haven't," said the deputy. "The bull con don't go in this -dump! I know you all!" The receiving guard looked Archie over, trying -to recall him. - -The deputy warden let his heavy feet fall to the floor, leaned forward, -took a cane from his desk, got up, hooked the cane into the awkward -angle of his left elbow, and shambled into the rear office, his long -legs unhinging with a strange suggestion of the lock-step he was so -proud of being able to retain in the prison by an evasion of the law. A -convict clerk heaved an enormous record on to his high desk, then in a -mechanical way he dipped a pen into the ink, and stood waiting. - -"What's your name?" asked the deputy. - -Archie told him. - -"Age?" - -"Twenty-three." - -"Father and mother living?" - -"Yes." - -"Who shall we notify if you die while you're with us?" - -Archie started; and the deputy laughed. - -"Notify them." - -"Ever convicted before? No? Why, Koerner, you really must not lie to -me like that!" - -When the statistical questions were finished the deputy said: - -"Now, Koerner, you got a stretch in the sentence; you'll gain a month's -good time if you behave yourself; don't talk; be respectful to your -superiors; mind the rules; you can write one letter a month, have -visitors once a month, receive all letters of proper character addressed -to you. Your number is 48963. Take him and frisk him, Jimmy." - -The deputy warden hooked his cane over his arm and shambled out. Archie -watched him, strangely fascinated. Then the guard touched him on the -shoulder, tossed a bundle of old clothing over his arm, and said: - -"This way." - -They made him bathe, then the barber shaved him, and he donned his -prison clothes, which were of gray like those worn by the trusties he -had seen at the gate of the prison. But the clothes did not fit him; -the trousers were too tight at the waist and far too long, and they took -a strange and unaccountable shape on him, the shape, indeed, of the -wasted figure of an old convict who had died of consumption in the -hospital two days before. - -The guard took Archie to the dining-room, deserted now, and he sat down -at one of the long tables and ate his watery soup and drank the coffee -made of toasted bread--his first taste of the "boot-leg" he had heard -his late companions talk about. - -And then the idle house, stark and gloomy, with silent convicts ranged -around the wall. On an elevated chair at one end, where he might have -the scant light that fell through the one high window, an old convict, -who once had been a preacher, read aloud. He read as if he enjoyed the -sound of his own voice, but few of the prisoners listened. They sat -there stolidly, with heavy, hardened faces. Some dozed, others -whispered, others, whom the prison had almost bereft of reason, simply -stared. The idle house was still, save for the voice of the reader and -the constant coughing of a convict in a corner. Archie, incapable, like -most of them, of concentrated attention, sat and looked about. He was -dazed, the prison stupor was already falling heavily on his mind, and he -was passing into that state of mental numbness that made the blank in -his life when he was in the workhouse with Mason. He thought of Mason -for a while, and wondered what his fate and that of Dillon had been; he -thought of Gusta, and of his mother and father, of Gibbs and Curly, -wondering about them all; wondered about that strange life, already dim -and incredible, he had so lately left in what to convicts is represented -by the word "outside." He wished that he had been taken with Mason and -Dillon. Then he thought of Kouka--thought of everything but the theft -of the revolver, which bore so small a relation to his real life. - -The entrance of a contractor brought diversion. The contractor, McBride, -a man with a red face and closely-cropped white hair, smoking a cigar -the aroma of which was eagerly sniffed in by the convicts, came with the -receiving guard. At the guard's command, Archie stood up, and the -contractor, narrowing his eyes, inspected him through the smoke of his -cigar. After a while he nodded and said: - -"He'll do--looks to me like he could make bolts. Ever work at a -machine?" he suddenly asked. - -Archie shook his head. - -"Put him on Bolt B," said the contractor; "he can learn." - -The day ended, somehow; the evening came, with supper in the low-ceiled, -dim dining-hall, then the cells. - -"You'll lock in G6," said the guard. - -Archie marched to the cell-house, where, inside the brick shell, the -cells rose, four tiers of them. The door locked on Archie, and he -looked about the bare cell where he was to spend a year. For an hour, -certain small privileges were allowed; favored convicts, in league with -officials, peddled pies and small fruits at enormous commissions; -somewhere a prisoner scraped a doleful fiddle. Near by, a guard haggled -with a convict who worked in the cigar shop and stole cigars for the -guard to sell on the outside. The guard, it seemed, had recently raised -his commission from fifty to sixty per cent., and the convict -complained. But when the guard threatened to report him for his theft, -the convict gave in. - -At seven o'clock the music ceased, and hall permits expired. Then there -was another hour of the lights, when some of the convicts read. Then, -at eight, it grew suddenly dark and still. Presently Archie heard the -snores of tired men. He could not sleep himself; his pallet of straw -was alive with vermin; the stillness in the great cell-house was awful -and oppressive; once in a while he heard some one, somewhere, from a -near-by cell, sigh heavily. Now, he thought, he was doing his bit at -last; "buried," the guns called it. Finally, when the hope had all gone -from his heart, he fell asleep. - -The summer night fell, and the prison's gray wall merged itself in the -blackness; but it still shut off the great world outside from the little -world inside. The guards came out and paced the walls with their -rifles, halting now and then with their backs to the black forms of the -cell-houses, and looked out over the city, where the electric lights -blazed. - - - - - XII - - -Elizabeth had gone abroad feeling that she might escape the -dissatisfaction that possessed her. This dissatisfaction was so very -indefinite that she could not dignify it as a positive trouble, but she -took it with her over Europe wherever she went, and she finally decided -that it would give her no peace until she took it home again. She could -not discuss it with her mother, for Mrs. Ward was impatient of -discussion. She could do no more than feel Elizabeth's dissatisfaction, -and she complained of it both abroad and at home. She told her husband -and her son that Elizabeth had practically ruined their trip, that -Elizabeth hadn't enjoyed it herself, nor allowed her to enjoy it. -Elizabeth, however, if unable to realize the sensations she had -anticipated in their travels, gave her mother unexpected compensation by -recalling and vivifying for her after they had returned in the fall, all -their foreign experiences, so that they enjoyed them in retrospect. -Ward, indeed, said that Elizabeth had seen everything there was to see -in Europe. He only laughed when Elizabeth declared that, now she was at -home again, she intended to do something; just what, she could not -determine. - -"Perhaps I'll become a stenographer or a trained nurse." - -"The idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward. "To talk like that! You should pay -more attention to your social duties." - -"Why?" demanded Elizabeth, looking at her mother with clear, sober eyes. - -Mrs. Ward, in her habitual avoidance of reasons, could not think of one -instantly. - -"You owe it to your station," she declared presently, and then, as if -this were, after all, a reason, she added, "that's why." - -Dick showed all the manly indignation of an elder brother. - -"You don't know what you're talking about, Bess," he said in the husky -voice he had acquired. He had not changed; he bore himself importantly, -wore a scowl, dressed extravagantly, and always in the extreme of the -prevailing fashion; he seemed to have an intuition in such matters; he -wore a new collar or a new kind of cravat two weeks in advance of the -other young men in town, and they did not seem to follow him so much as -he seemed to anticipate them. He lunched at the club, and Elizabeth -divined that he spent large sums of money, and yet he was constant in -his work; he was always at the Trust Company's office early; he did not -miss a single day. No, Dick had not changed; nothing had changed, and -this thought only increased Elizabeth's discontent, or vague uneasiness, -or vague dissatisfaction, or whatever it was. - -"I don't know what it is," she confided to Marriott the first time she -saw him. "I ought to be of some use in the world, but I'm not--Oh, -don't say I am," she insisted when she caught his expression; "don't -make the conventional protest. It's just as I told you before I went -away, I'm useless." She glanced over the drawing-room in an inclusive -condemnation of the luxury represented by the heavy furniture, the -costly bric-à-brac, and all that. Her face wore an expression of -weariness. She knew that she had not expressed herself. What she was -thinking, or, rather, what she was feeling was, perhaps, the -disappointment that comes to a spirited, imaginative, capable girl, who -by education and training has developed ambitions and aspirations toward -a real, full, useful life, yet who can do nothing in the world because -the very conditions of that existence which give her those advantages -forbid it. Prepared for life, she is not permitted to live; an -artificial routine called a "sphere" is all that is allowed her; she may -not realize her own personality, and, in time, is reduced to utter -nothingness. - -"By what right--" she resumed, but Marriott interrupted her. - -"Don't take that road; it will only make you unhappy." - -"Before I went abroad," she went on, ignoring the warning, "I told you -that I would do something when I came back--something to justify myself. -That's selfish, isn't it?" She ended in a laugh. "Well, anyway," she -resumed, "I can look up the Koerners. You see the Koerners?" - -"I haven't tried that case yet," Marriott said with a guilty expression. - -"How dreadful of you!" - -"Reproach me all you can," he said. "I must pay some penance. But, you -know--I--well, I didn't try it at the spring term because Ford wanted to -go to Europe, and then--well--I'm going to try it right away--soon." - -The next morning, as Marriott walked down town, he determined to take up -the Koerner case immediately. It was one of those mild and sunny days -of grace that Nature allows in the mellow autumn, dealing them out one -by one with a smile that withholds promise for another, so that each -comes to winter-dreading mortals as a rare surprise. The long walk in -the sun filled Marriott with a fine delight of life; he was pleased with -himself because at last he was to do a duty he had long neglected. He -sent for Koerner, and the old man came on a pair of new yellow crutches, -bringing his wife and his enormous pipe. - -"Well, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott, "I'm glad you're about again. How -are you getting along?" - -"Vell, ve get along; I bin some goodt yet, you bet. I can vash--I sit -up to dose tubs dere undt help der oldt voman." - -Marriott's brows knotted in a perplexity that took on the aspect of a -mild horror. It required some effort for him to realize this old man -sitting with a wash-tub between his knees; the thought degraded the -leonine figure. He wished that Koerner had not told him, and he -hastened to change the subject. - -"Your case will come on for trial now," he said; "we must talk it over -and get our evidence in shape." - -"Dot bin a long time alreadty, dot trial." - -"Yes, it has," said Marriott, "but we'll get to it now in two weeks." - -"Yah, dot's vat you say." - -He puffed at his pipe a moment, sending out the thin wreaths of smoke in -sharp little puffs. The strong face lifted its noble mask, the white -hair--whiter than Marriott remembered it the last time--glistening like -frost. - -"You vait anoder year and I grow out anoder leg, maybe," Koerner smoked -on in silence. But presently the thin lips that pinched the amber -pipe-stem began to twitch, the blue eyes twinkled under their -shaggy-white brows; his own joke about his leg put him in good humor, -and he forgot his displeasure. Marriott felt a supreme pity for the old -man. He marveled at his patience, the patience everywhere exhibited by -the voiceless poor. There was something stately in the old man, -something dignified in the way in which he accepted calamity and joked -it to its face. - -Marriott found relief in turning to the case. As he was looking for the -pleadings, he said carelessly: - -"How's Gusta?" - -And instantly, by a change in the atmosphere, he felt that he had made a -mistake. Koerner made no reply. Marriott heard him exchange two or -three urgent sentences with his wife, in his harsh, guttural German. -When Marriott turned about, Koerner was smoking in stolid silence, his -face was stone. Mrs. Koerner cast a timid glance at her husband, and, -turning in embarrassment from Marriott, fluttered her shawl about her -arms and gazed out the windows. What did it mean? Marriott wondered. - -"Well, let's get down to business," he said. He would ask no more -questions, at any rate. But as he was going over the allegations of the -petition with Koerner, finding the usual trouble in initiating the -client into the mysteries of evidence, which are as often mysteries to -the lawyers and the courts themselves, he was thinking more of Gusta -than of the case. Poor Gusta, he thought, does the family doom lie on -her, too? - - - - - XIII - - -Elizabeth kept to her purpose of doing something to justify her -continuing in existence, as she put it to her mother, and there was a -period of two or three weeks following a lecture by a humanitarian from -Chicago, when she tortured the family by considering a residence in a -social settlement. But Mrs. Ward was relieved when this purpose -realized itself in a way so respectable as joining the Organized -Charities. The Organized Charities was more than respectable, it was -eminently respectable, and when Mrs. Russell consented to become its -president, it took on a social rank of the highest authority. The work -of this organization was but dimly understood; it was incorporated, and -so might quite legally be said to lack a soul, which gave it the -advantage of having the personal equation excluded from its dealings -with the poor. Business men, by subscribing a small sum might turn all -beggars over to the Organized Charities, and by giving to the hungry, -who asked for bread, the stone of a blue ticket, secure immediate relief -from the disturbing sense of personal responsibility. The poor who were -thus referred might go to the bureau, file their applications, be -enrolled and indexed by the secretary, and have their characters and -careers investigated by an agent. All this was referred to as organized -relief work, and it had been so far successful as to afford relief to -those who were from time to time annoyed by the spectacles of poverty -and disease that haunted their homes and places of business. - -When the Organized Charities resumed in the fall the monthly meetings -that had been discontinued during the heated term, Elizabeth was on -hand. Mrs. Russell was in the president's chair, and promptly at three -o'clock, consulting the tiny jeweled watch that hung in the laces at her -bosom, she called the meeting to order. After the recording secretary -had read the minutes of the last meeting, held in the spring, and these -had been approved, the corresponding secretary read a report, and a list -of the new members. Then a young clergyman, with a pale, ascetic face, -and a high, clerical waistcoat against which a large cross of gold was -suspended by a cord, read his report as treasurer, giving the names of -the new members already reported by the corresponding secretary, but -adding the amount subscribed by each, the amount of money in the -treasury, the amount expended in paying the salaries of the clerks, the -rent of the telephone, printing, postage, and so on. Then the agents of -the organization reported the number of cases they had investigated, -arranging them alphabetically, and in the form of statistics. Then the -clerk reported the number of meal tickets that had been distributed and -the smaller number that had been gastronomically redeemed. After that -there were reports from standing committees, then from special -committees, and when all these had been read, received and approved, -they were ordered to be placed on file. These preliminaries occupied an -hour, and Elizabeth felt the effect to be somewhat deadening. During -the reading of the reports, the members, of whom there were about forty, -mostly women, had sat in respectful silence, decorously coughing now and -then. When all the reports had been read a woman rose, and addressing -Mrs. Russell as "Madame President," said that she wished again to move -that the meetings of the society be opened with prayer. At this the -faces of the other members clouded with an expression of weariness. The -woman who made the motion spoke to it at length, and with the only zeal -that Elizabeth had thus far observed in the proceedings. Elizabeth was -not long in discerning that this same woman had made this proposal at -former meetings; she knew this by the bored and sometimes angry -expressions of the other members. The young curate seemed to feel a -kind of vicarious shame for the woman. When the woman had finished, the -matter was put to a vote, and all voted no, save the woman who had made -the proposal, and she voted "aye" loudly, going down to defeat in the -defiance of the unconvinced. - -Then another woman rose and said that she had a matter to bring before -the meeting; this matter related to a blind woman who had called on her -and complained that the Organized Charities had refused to give her -assistance. Now that the winter was coming on, the blind woman was -filled with fear of want. Elizabeth had a dim vision of the blind woman, -even from the crude and inadequate description; she felt a pity and a -desire to help her, and, at the same time, with that condemnation which -needs no more than accusation, a kind of indignation with the Organized -Charities. For the first time she was interested in the proceedings, -and leaned forward to hear what was to be done with the blind woman. -But while the description had been inadequate to Elizabeth, so that her -own imagination had filled out the portrait, it was, nevertheless, -sufficient for the other members; a smile went round, glances were -exchanged, and the secretary, with a calm, assured and superior -expression, began to turn over the cards in her elaborate system of -indexed names. There was instantly a general desire to speak, several -persons were on their feet at once, saying "Madame President!" and Mrs. -Russell recognized one of them with a smile that propitiated and -promised the others in their turn. From the experiences that were then -related, it was apparent that this blind woman was known to nearly all -of the charity workers in the city; all of them spoke of her in terms of -disparagement, which soon became terms of impatience. One of the ladies -raised a laugh by declaring the blind woman to be a "chronic case," and -then one of the men present, a gray-haired man, with a white mustache -stained yellow by tobacco, rose and said that he had investigated the -"case" and that it was not worthy. This man was the representative of a -society which cared for animals, such as stray dogs, and mistreated -horses, and employed this agent to investigate such cases, but it seemed -that occasionally he concerned himself with human beings. He spoke now -in a professional and authoritative manner, and when he declared that -the case was not worthy, the blind woman, or the blind case, as it was -considered, was disposed of. Some one said that she should be sent to -the poorhouse. - -When the blind woman had been consigned, so far as the bureau was -concerned, to the poorhouse, Mrs. Russell said in her soft voice: - -"Is there any unfinished business?" - -Elizabeth, who was tired and bored, felt a sudden hope that this was the -end, and she started up hopefully; but she found in Mrs. Russell's -beautiful face a quick smile of sympathy and patience. And Elizabeth -was ashamed; she was sorry she had let Mrs. Russell see that she was -weary of all this, and she felt a new dissatisfaction with herself. She -told herself that she was utterly fickle and hopeless; she had entered -upon this charity work with such enthusiasm, and here she was already -tiring of it at the first meeting! Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Russell, -and for a moment envied her her dignity and her tact and her patience, -all of which must have come from her innate gentleness and kindness. -The face of this woman, who presided so gracefully over this long, -wearying session, was marked with lines of character, her brow was -serene and calm under the perfectly white hair massed above it. The -eyes were large, and they were sad, just as the mouth was sad, but there -dwelt in the eyes always that same kindness and gentleness, that -patience and consideration that gave Mrs. Russell her real distinction, -her real indisputable claim to superiority. Elizabeth forgot her -impatience and her weariness in a sudden speculation as to the cause of -the sadness that lay somewhere in Mrs. Russell's life. She had known -ease and luxury always; she had been spared all contact with that world -which Elizabeth was just beginning to discover beyond the confines of -her own narrow and selfish world. Mrs. Russell surely never had known -the physical hunger which now and then was at least officially -recognized in this room where the bureau met; could there be a hunger of -the soul which gave this look to the human face? Elizabeth Ward had not -yet realized this hunger, she had not yet come into the full -consciousness of life, and so it was that just at a moment, when she -seemed very near to its recognition, she lost herself in the luxury of -romanticizing some sorrow in Mrs. Russell's life, some sorrow kept -hidden from the world. Elizabeth thought she saw this sorrow in the -faint smile that touched Mrs. Russell's lips just then, as she gave a -parliamentary recognition to another woman--a heavy, obtrusive woman who -was rising to say: - -"Madame President." - -Elizabeth had hoped that there would be no unfinished business for the -society to transact, but she had not learned that there was one piece of -business which was always unfinished, and that was the question of -raising funds. And this subject had no interest for Elizabeth; the -question of money was one she could not grasp. It affected her as -statistics did; it had absolutely no meaning for her; and now, when she -was forced to pay attention to the heavy, obtrusive woman, because her -voice was so strong and her tone so commanding, she was conscious only -of the fact that she did not like this woman; somehow the woman -over-powered Elizabeth by mere physical proportions. But gradually it -dawned on Elizabeth that the discussion was turning on a charity ball, -and she grew interested at once, for she felt herself on the brink of -solving the old mystery of where charity balls originate. She had -attended many of them, but it had never occurred to her that some one -must have organized and promoted them; she had found them in her world -as an institution, like calls, like receptions, like the church. But now -a debate was on; the little woman, who had urged the society to open its -sessions with prayer, was opposing the ball, and Elizabeth forgot Mrs. -Russell's secret romance in her interest in the warmth with which the -project of a charity ball was being discussed. - - - - - XIV - - -The debate over the charity ball raged until twilight, and it served for -unfinished business at two special sessions. The spare little woman who -had proposed that the meetings be opened with prayer led the opposition -to the charity ball, and, summoning all her militant religion to her -aid, succeeded in arraying most of the evangelical churches against it. -In two weeks the controversy was in the newspapers, and when it had -waged for a month, and both parties were exhausted, they compromised on -a charity bazaar. - -The dispute had been distressing to Mrs. Russell, whose nature was too -sensitive to take the relish most of the others seemed to find in the -controversy, and it was through her tact that peace was finally -established. Even after the bazaar was decided on, the peace was -threatened by dissension as to where the bazaar should be held. The -more sophisticated and worldly-minded favored the Majestic Theater, and -this brought the spare little woman to her feet again, trembling with -moral indignation. To her the idea of a bazaar in a theater was even -more sacrilegious than a ball. But Mrs. Russell saved the day by a -final sacrifice--she offered her residence for the bazaar. - -"It was beautiful in you!" Elizabeth exclaimed as they drove homeward -together in the graying afternoon of the November day. "To think of -throwing your house open for a week--and having the whole town tramp -over the rugs!" - -"Oh, I'll lay the floors in canvas," said Mrs. Russell, with a little -laugh she could not keep from ending in a sigh. - -"You'll find it no light matter," said Elizabeth; "this turning your -house inside out. Of course, the fact that it is your house will draw -all the curious and vulgar in town." - -This was not exactly reassuring and Elizabeth felt as much the moment -she had said it. - -"You must help me, dear!" Mrs. Russell said, squeezing Elizabeth's hand -in a kind of desperation. Elizabeth had never known her to be in any -wise demonstrative, and her own sympathetic nature responded -immediately. - -"Indeed I shall!" she said. - -The bazaar was to be held the week before Christmas, and the ladies -forgot their differences to unite in one of those tremendous and -exhausting labors they seem ever ready to undertake, though the end is -always so disproportionate to the sacrifice and toil that somehow bring -it to pass. Elizabeth was almost constantly with Mrs. Russell; they -were working early and late. Mrs. Russell appointed her on the -committee on arrangements, and the committee held almost daily meetings -at the Charities. And here Elizabeth at last found an opportunity of -seeing some of the poor for whom she was working. - -The fall had prolonged itself into November; the weather was so perfect -that Dick could daily speed his automobile, and the men who, like -Marriott, still clung to golf, could play on Saturdays and Sundays at -the Country Club. But December came, and with it a heavy rain that in -three days became a sleet; then the snow and a cold wave. The wretched -winter weather, which seems to have a spite almost personal for the lake -regions, produced its results in the lives of men--there were suicides -and crimes for the police, and for the Organized Charities, the poor, -now forced to emerge from the retreats where in milder weather they -could hide their wretchedness. They came forth, and when Elizabeth and -Mrs. Russell entered the Charities one morning, there they were, ranged -along the wall. They sat bundled in their rags, waiting in dumb patience -for the last humiliation of an official investigation, making no sound -save as their ailments compelled them to sneeze or to cough now and -then; and as Elizabeth and Mrs. Russell passed into the room, they were -followed by eyes that held no reproach or envy, but merely a mild -curiosity. The poor sat there, perhaps glad of the warmth and the rest; -willing to spend the day, if necessary; with hopes no higher than some -mere temporary relief that would help them to eke out their lives a few -hours longer and until another day, which should be like this day, -repeating all its wants and hardships. The atmosphere of the room was -stifling, with an odor that sickened Elizabeth, the fetor of all the -dirt and disease that poverty had accumulated and heaped upon them. - -At the desk Mrs. Rider, the clerk, and the two agents of the society -were interrogating a woman. The woman was tall and slender, and her -pale face had some trace of prettiness left; her clothing was better -than that of the others, though it had remained over from some easier -circumstance of the summer. - -The woman was hungry, and she was sick. She had reported her condition -to the agent of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty, but as this -man could think of nothing better than to arrest somebody and have -somebody punished, he had had the woman's husband sent to the workhouse -for six months, thus removing the only hope she had. - -To Elizabeth it seemed that the three inquisitors were trying, not so -much to discover some means of helping this woman, as to discover some -excuse for not helping her; they took turns in putting to her, with a -professional frankness, the most personal questions,--questions that -made Elizabeth blush and burn with shame, even as they made the woman -blush. But just then a middle-aged woman appeared, and Elizabeth -instantly identified her when Mrs. Rider pleasantly addressed her by a -name that appeared frequently in the newspapers in connection with deeds -that took on the aspect of nobility and sacrifice. - -"I'm so glad you dropped in, Mrs. Norton," said Mrs. Rider. "We have a -most perplexing case." - -The clerk lifted her eyebrows expressively, and somehow indicated to -Mrs. Norton the woman she had just had under investigation. Mrs. Norton -glanced at the hunted face and smiled. - -"You mean the Ordway woman? Exactly. I know her case thoroughly. Mr. -Gleason 'phoned me from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty and I -looked her up. You should have seen her room--the filthiest place I -ever saw--and those children!" She raised her hands, covered with -gloves, and her official-looking reticule slid up her forearm as if to -express an impossibility. "The woman was tired of farm life--determined -to come to town--fascinated by city life--she complained of her husband, -and yet--what do you think?--she wanted me to get him out of the -work-house!" - -Mrs. Norton stopped as if she had made an unanswerable argument and -proved that the woman should not be helped; and Mrs. Rider and the two -agents seemed to be relieved. Presently Mrs. Rider called the woman, -and told her that her case was not one that came within the purview of -the society's objects, and when the hope was dying out of the woman's -face Mrs. Norton began to lecture her on the care of children, and to -assure her the city was filled with pitfalls for such as she. The -woman, beaten into humility, listened a while, and then she turned and -dragged herself toward the door. The eyes of the waiting paupers -followed her with the same impersonal curiosity they had shown in the -entrance of Mrs. Russell and Elizabeth and Mrs. Norton. - -The limp retreating figure of the woman filled Elizabeth with distress. -When, at the door, she saw the woman press to her eyes the sodden -handkerchief she had been rolling in her palm during the interview, she -ran after her; in the hall outside, away from others, she called; the -woman turned and gazed at her suspiciously. - -"Here!" said Elizabeth fearfully. - -She opened her purse and emptied from it into the woman's hand all the -silver it held. - -"Where do you live?" she asked, and as the woman gave her the number of -the house where she rented a room, Elizabeth realized how inappropriate -the word "live" was. Elizabeth returned to the office with a glow in -her breast, though she dreaded Mrs. Norton, whom she feared she had -affronted by her deed. But Mrs. Norton received her with a smile. - -"It seemed hard to you, no doubt," Mrs. Norton said, and Mrs. Rider and -the two agents looked up with smiles of their own, as if they were about -to shine in Mrs. Norton's justification, "but you'll learn after a -while. We must discriminate, you know; we must not pauperize them. -When you've been in the work as long as I have,"--she paused with a -superior lift of her eyebrows at the use of this word "work,"--"you'll -understand better." - -Elizabeth felt a sudden indignation which she concealed, because she had -her own doubts, after all. The ladies were gathering for the committee -meeting and just then Mrs. Russell beckoned her into an inner room. - -"The air is better in here," she said. - - - - - XV - - -Every day Elizabeth went to the Organized Charities. The committee on -arrangements divided itself into subcommittees, and these, with other -committees that were raised, must have meetings, make reports, receive -instructions, and consider ways and means. The labor entailed was -enormous. The women were exhausted before the first week had ended; the -rustling of their skirts as they ran to and fro, their incessant -chatter---they all spoke at once--their squealing at each other as their -nerves snapped under the strain, filled the rooms with clamor. But all -this endless confusion and complication were considered necessary in -order to effect an organization. If any one doubted or complained, it -was only necessary to speak the word "organization," and criticism was -immediately silenced. - -It had been discovered very early in the work of this organization that -Mrs. Russell's great house would be too small for the bazaar, and it had -been a relief to her when a certain Mrs. Spayd offered to place at the -disposal of the committee the new mansion her husband had just built on -Claybourne Avenue and named with the foreign-sounding name of -"Bellemere." Mrs. Spayd privately conveyed the information that the -young people might have the ball-room at the top of the house, where the -most exclusive, if they desired, could dance, and she commissioned a -firm of decorators to transform Bellemere into a bazaar. Mrs. Spayd was -to bear the entire expense, and her charity was lauded everywhere, -especially in the society columns of the newspapers. The booths were to -represent different nations, and it was suddenly found to be desirable -to dress as peasants. The women who were to serve in these booths flew -to costumers to have typical clothing made. And this occasioned still -greater conflict and confusion, for each woman wished to represent that -country whose inhabitants were supposed to wear the most picturesque -costumes. - -Meanwhile the cold weather held and the poor besieged the Charities. No -matter how early Elizabeth might arrive, no matter how late she might -leave, they were always there, a stolid, patient row along the wall, or -crowding up to the railing, or huddling in the hall outside. For a -while Elizabeth, regarding them in the mass, thought that the same -persons came each day, but she discovered that this was not the case. -As she looked she noted a curious circumstance: the faces gradually took -on individuality, slight at first, but soon decided, until each stood -out among the others and developed the sharpest, most salient -characteristics. She saw in each face the story of a single life, and -always a life of neglect and failure, as if the misery of the world had -been distributed in a kind of ironical variation. These people all were -victims of a common doom, presenting itself each time in a different -aspect; they were all alike--and yet they were all different, like -leaves of a tree. - -One afternoon Elizabeth suddenly noted a face that stood out in such -relief that it became the only face there for her. It was the face of a -young man, and it wore a strange pallor, and as Elizabeth hurried by she -was somehow conscious that the young man's eyes were following her with -a peculiar searching glance. When she sat down to await the women of the -committee with which she was to meet, the young man still gazed at her -steadily; she grew uncomfortable, almost resentful. She felt this -continued stare to be a rudeness, and then suddenly she wondered why any -rudeness of these people should be capable of affecting her; surely they -were not of her class, to be judged by her standards. But she turned -away, and determined not to look that way again, for fear that the young -man might accost her. - -And yet, though she persistently looked away, the face had so impressed -her that she still could see it. In her first glimpse it had been -photographed on her mind; its pallor was remarkable, the skin had a -damp, dead whiteness, as if it had bleached in a cave, curls of thin -brown hair clung to the brows; on the boy's neck was a streak of black -where the collar of his coat had rubbed its color. In his thin hands he -held a plush cap. And out of his pale face his wan eyes looked and -followed her; she could not escape them, and for relief she finally fled -to the inner room. - -"We have made arrangements," said one of the women, "to hold our -committee meetings hereafter at Mrs. Spayd's. She has kindly put her -library at our disposal. This place is unbearable!" - -She flung up a window and let the fresh air pour in. - -"Yes," sighed another woman, "the air is sickening. It gives me a -headache. If the poor could only be taught that cleanliness is akin to -godliness!" - -Elizabeth's head ached, too; it would be a relief to be delivered out of -this atmosphere. But still the face of the young man pursued her. She -could not follow the deliberations of the committee; she could think of -nothing but that face. Where, she continually asked herself, had she -seen it before? She sat by a window, and looked down into the street, -preoccupied by the effort to identify it. She gave herself up to the -pain of the process, as one does when trying to remember a name. Now -and then she caught phrases of the sentences the women began, but seemed -never able to finish:--"Oh, I hardly think that--" "As a class, of -course--" "Oriental hangings would be best--" "Cheese-cloth looks -cheap--" "Of course, flags--" "We could solicit the merchants--" "My -husband was saying last night--" - -But where had she seen that face before? Why should it pursue and worry -her? What had she ever done? Finally, after two hours of the mighty -effort and patience that are necessary to bring a number of minds to -grasp a subject and agree even on the most insignificant detail, two -hours in which thoughts hovered and flitted here and there, and could -not find expression, when minds held back, and continually balked at the -specific, the certain, the definite, and sought refuge from decision in -the general and the abstract, the committee exhausted itself, and -decided to adjourn. Then, although it had reached no conclusions -whatever, the matron who presided smiled and said: - -"Well, I feel that we're making progress." - -"I don't feel as if we'd done much," some one else said. "And I can not -come on Friday." - -"Do you know, I really haven't got a single one of my Christmas presents -yet." - -"I have to give sixty-seven! Just think! What a burden it all is!" - -Elizabeth dreaded the sight of that boy's face again, but it was growing -late, the early winter twilight was expanding its gloom in the room. -She made haste, and walked swiftly through the outer office. The young -man was no longer there. But though this was a relief, his face still -followed her. Who could he be? - -The air out of doors was grateful. It soothed her hot cheeks, and, -though her head throbbed more violently for an instant from the exertion -of coming down the steps, she drew in great drafts of the winter air -with a comforting sense that it was cleansing her lungs of all that foul -atmosphere of poverty she had been breathing for two days. She walked -hurriedly to the corner, to wait for a car; beside her, St. Luke's, as -with an effort, lifted its Gothic arches of gray stone into the dark -sky; across the street the City Hall loomed, its windows bright with -lights. The afternoon crowds were streaming by on the sidewalk, wagons -and heavy trucks jolted and rumbled along the street; she saw the -drivers of coal-wagons, the whites of their eyes flashing under the -electric lights against faces black as negroes with the grime. -Politicians were coming from the City Hall; here and there, in and out -of the crowd, newsboys darted, shouting "All 'bout the murder!" The -shops were ablaze, their windows tricked out for the holidays; throngs -of people hurried by, intent, preoccupied, selfish. As Elizabeth stood -there, the constant stream of faces oppressed her with an intolerable -gloom; the blazing electric lights, signs of theaters and restaurants, -were mere mockeries of pleasure and comfort. And always the roar of the -city. It was the hour when the roar became low and dull, a deep, ugly -note of weariness and discontent was in it, the grumble of a city that -was exhausted from its long day of confusion and wearing, complicated -effort. On the City Hall corner, a man with the red-banded cap of the -Salvation Army stood beside an iron kettle suspended beneath a tripod, -swaying from side to side, stamping his huge feet in the cold, jangling -a little hand-bell, and constantly crying in a bass voice: - -"Remember the poor! Remember the poor!" - -She recalled, suddenly, that the outcasts at the Charities invariably -sneered whenever the Salvation Army was suggested, and she was impatient -with this man in the cap with the red band, his enormous sandy mustache -frozen into repulsive little icicles. Why must he add his din to this -tired roar of the worn-out city? - -Her car came presently, jerking along, stopping and starting again in -the crowded street. The crowd sweeping by brushed her now and then, but -suddenly she felt a more personal contact--some one had touched her. -She shrank; she shuddered with fear, then she ran out to her car. -Inside she began again that study of faces. She tried not to do so, but -she seemed unable to shake off the habit--that face seemed always to be -looking out at her from all other faces, white and sensitive, with the -black mark on the neck where the coat collar had rubbed its color. And -the eyes more and more reproached her, as if she had been responsible -for the sadness that lay in them. The car whirred on, the conductor -opened the door with monotonous regularity, and called out the -interminable streets. The air in the car, overheated by the little -coal-stove, took on the foul smell of the air at the Charities. -Elizabeth's head ached more and more, a sickness came over her. At last -she reached the street which led across to Claybourne Avenue, and got -off. She crossed the little triangular park. The air had suddenly -taken on a new life, it was colder and clearer. The dampness it had -held in suspense for days was leaving it. Looking between the black -trunks of the trees in the park she saw the western sky, yellow and red -where the sun had gone down; and she thought of her home, with its -comfort and warmth and light, and the logs in the great fireplace in the -library. She hastened on, soothed and reassured. In the sense of -certain comfort she now confidently anticipated, she could get the poor -out of her mind, and feel as she used to feel before they came to annoy -her. The clouds were clearing, the sky took on the deep blue it shows -at evening; one star began to sparkle frostily, and, just as peace was -returning, that young man's face came back, and she remembered -instantly, in a flash, that it was the face of Harry Graves. - - - - - XVI - - -Elizabeth was right; it was Harry Graves. Four weeks before he had been -released from the penitentiary. On the day that he was permitted to go -forth into the world again as a free man, the warden gave him a railroad -ticket back to the city, a suit of prison-made clothes, a pair of -prison-made brogans, and a shirt. These clothes were a disappointment -and a chagrin to Graves. When he went into the prison, the fall before, -he had an excellent suit of clothes and a new overcoat, and during the -whole year he had looked forward to the pleasure he would experience in -donning these again. He had felt a security in returning to the world -well-habited and presentable. But one of the guards had noticed -Graves's clothes when he entered the penitentiary and had stolen them, -so that when he was released, Graves was forced to go back wearing a -suit of the shoddy clothes one of the contractors manufactured in the -prison, and sold to the state at a profit sufficient to repay him and to -provide certain officials of the penitentiary with a good income as -well. These clothes were of dull black. A detective could recognize -them anywhere. Before Graves had reached the city, the collar had -rubbed black against his neck. - -Things, of course, had changed while he was in prison. His mother had -died and he had no home to go to. Besides this, he had contracted -tuberculosis in the penitentiary, as did many of the convicts unless -they were men of exceptionally strong constitutions. Nevertheless Graves -was glad to be free on any terms, and glad to be back in the city in -which he had been born and reared. And yet, no sooner was he back than -the fear of the city lay on him. He dreaded to meet men; he felt their -eyes following him curiously. He knew that he presented an uncouth -figure in those miserable clothes and the clumsy prison brogans. -Besides, he had so long walked in the lock-step that his gait was now -constrained, awkward and unnatural; having been forbidden to speak for -more than a year, and having spoken at all but surreptitiously, he found -it impossible to approach men with his old frankness; having been -compelled to keep his gaze on the ground, he could not look men in the -eyes, and so he seemed to be a surly, taciturn creature with a hang-dog -air. - -During the three weeks Graves had been confined in jail, prior to his -plea and sentence, he had thought over his misdeeds, recognized his -mistakes and formed the most strenuous resolutions of betterment. He -was determined, then, to live a better life; but as he could not live -while in prison, but merely "do time," he was compelled, of course, to -wait a year before he could begin life anew. During the eleven months -he spent in the penitentiary he had tried to keep these resolutions -fresh, strong and ever clear before him. This was a difficult thing to -do, for his mind was weakened by the confinement, and his moral sense -was constantly clouded by the examples that were placed before him. On -Sundays, in the chapel, he heard the chaplain preach, but during the -week the guards stole the comforts his mother sent to him before she -died, the contractors and the prison officials were grafting and -stealing from the state provisions, household furniture, liquors, wines, -and every other sort of thing; one of the prison officials supplied his -brother's drug store with medicines and surgical appliances from the -prison hospital. Besides all this, the punishments he was compelled at -times to witness--the water-cure, the paddle, the electric battery, the -stringing up by the wrists, not to mention the loathsome practices of -the convicts themselves--benumbed and appalled him, until he shuddered -with terror lest his mind give way. But all these things, he felt, -would be at an end if he could keep his reason and his health, and live -to the end of his term. Then he could leave them all behind and go out -into the world and begin life anew. - -Graves came back to town during those last glorious days of the autumn, -and the fact that he had no place to go was not so much a hardship. He -did not care to show himself to his old friends until he had had -opportunity to procure new clothes, and he felt that he was started on -the way to this rehabilitation when almost immediately he found a place -trucking merchandise for a wholesale house in Front Street. He felt -encouraged; his luck, he told himself, was good, and for three days he -was happy in his work. Then, one morning, he noticed a policeman; the -policeman stood on the sidewalk, watching Graves roll barrels down the -skids from a truck. The policeman stood there a good while, and then he -spoke to the driver, admired the magnificent horses that were hitched to -the truck, patted their glossy necks, picked up some sugar that had been -spilled from a burst barrel and let the horses lick the sugar from the -palm of his hand. The horses tossed their heads playfully as they did -this, and, meanwhile, the policeman glanced every few minutes at Graves. -Presently, he went into the wholesale house, and through the window -Graves saw him talking to the manager. That evening the manager paid -Graves for his three days' work and discharged him. - -On this money, four dollars and a half, Graves lived for a week, -meanwhile hunting another job. He could do nothing except manual labor, -for he was not properly clothed for any clerical employment. He walked -along the entire river front, seeking work on the wharves as a -stevedore, but no one could work there who was not a member of the -Longshoremen's Union, and no one could be a member of the Longshoremen's -Union who did not work there; so this plan failed. He visited -employment bureaus, but these demanded fees and deposits. Graves read -the want advertisements in the newspapers, but none of these availed -him; each prospective employer demanded references which Graves could -not give. - -The snow-storm brought him a prosperity as fleeting as the snow itself; -he went into the residence district--where as yet he had not had the -heart to go because of memories that haunted it--and cleaned the -sidewalks of the well-to-do. After a day or so, the sidewalks of the -well-to-do were all cleaned,--that is, the sidewalks of those who -respected the laws sufficiently to have their sidewalks cleaned. Then -the rain came, and Graves tramped the slushy streets. His prison-made -shoes were as pervious to water as paper, of which substance, indeed, -they were made; he contracted a cold, and his cough grew rapidly worse. -He had no place to sleep. He spent a night in each of the two -lodging-houses in the city, then he "flopped" on the floor of a police -station. In this place he became infested with vermin, though this was -no new experience to him after eleven months in the cells of the -penitentiary. Meanwhile, he had little to eat. Once or twice, he -visited hotel kitchens and the chefs gave him scraps from the table; -then he did what for days he had been dreading--he tried to beg. After -allowing twenty people to go by, he found the courage to hold out his -hand to the twenty-first; the man passed without noticing him; a dozen -others did likewise. Then a policeman saw him and arrested him on a -charge of vagrancy. At the police station the officers, recognizing his -prison clothes, held him for three days as a suspicious character. Then -he was arraigned before Bostwick, who scowled and told him he would give -him twenty-four hours in which to leave the city. - -It was now cold. The wind cut through Graves's clothing like a saw; he -skulked and hid for two days; then, intolerably hungry, he went to the -Organized Charities. He sat there for two hours that afternoon, glad of -the delay because the room was warm. He thought much during those two -hours, though his thoughts were no longer clear. He was able, however, -to recall a belief he had held before coming out of the penitentiary,--a -belief that he had paid the penalty for his crime, that, having served -the sentence society had imposed on him, his punishment was at an end. -This view had seemed to be confirmed by the certificate that had been -issued to him, under the Great Seal of State and signed by the governor, -restoring him to citizenship. But now he realized that this belief had -been erroneous, that he had not at all paid the penalty, that he had not -served his sentence, that his punishment was not at an end, and that he -had not been restored to citizenship. The Great Seal of State had -attested an hypocrisy and a lie, and the governor had signed his name to -this lie with a conceited flourish at the end of his pen. Graves -formulated this conclusion with an effort, but he grasped it finally, -and his mind clung to it and revolved about it, finding something it -could hold to. - -And then, suddenly, Elizabeth Ward entered the room. He knew her -instantly, and his heart leaped with a wild desperate hope. He watched -her; she was beautiful in the seal-skin jacket that fitted her slender -figure so well; her hat with its touch of green became her dark hair. -He noted the flush of her cheek, the sparkle of her eyes behind the -veil. He remembered her as he had seen her that last day she came into -her father's office; he remembered how heavy his own heart had been -under its load of guilty fears. He recalled the affection her father -had shown, how his tired face had smiled when he saw her. Graves -remembered that the smile had filled him with a pity for Ward; he seemed -once more to see Ward fondly take her little gloved hand and hold it -while he looked up at her, and how he had laughed and evidently joked -her as he swung about to his desk and wrote out a check. And then, as -she went out, she had smiled at the clerks and spoken to them; she had -smiled on him and spoken to him; would she smile now, this day? The hope -leaped wild in his heart. If she did! She was the apple of her -father's eye--he would do anything for her; if she would but see and -recognize him now, give him the least hint of encouragement or -permission, he would tell her, she would speak to her father and he -would help him. His whole being seemed to melt within him--he half -started from his chair--his eyes were wide with the excitement of this -hope. He never once took them from her; he must not permit an instant -to escape him, lest she look his way. He watched her as she sat by the -window; she made a picture he never could forget. Once she turned. Ah! -it was coming now!--but no--yes, she was moving! She had gone into the -other room. He hoped now that his case would be one of the last. He -must see her. After a while the agent beckoned him, looked at him -suspiciously, and said: - -"How long have you been out?" - -"A month," said Graves. - -"Well, I haven't got no use for convicts," said the agent. - -Graves waited in the hall. He waited until it was dark, but not so dark -that the agent could not recognize him. - -"You needn't hang around," he said; "there's nothing to steal here." - -Graves waited, then, outside. He feared he would miss Elizabeth in the -dark, or confuse her among the other women. The thought made him almost -frantic. The women came out, and finally--yes, it was Elizabeth! He -could nowhere mistake that figure. He pressed up, he spoke, he put -forth a hand to touch her--she turned with a start of fright. He saw a -policeman looking at him narrowly. And then he gave up, slunk off, and -was lost in the crowd. - - - - - XVII - - -Seated in the library at the Wards', Eades gave himself up to the -influences of the moment. The open fire gave off the faint delicious -odor of burning wood, the lamp filled the room with a soft light that -gleamed on the gilt lettering of the books about the walls, the pictures -above the low shelves--a portrait of Browning among them--lent to the -room the dignity of the great souls they portrayed. Eades, who had just -tried his second murder case, was glad to find this refuge from the -thoughts that had harassed him for a week. Elizabeth noticed the -weariness in his eyes, and she had a notion that his hair glistened a -little more grayly at his temples. - -"You've been going through an ordeal this week, haven't you?" She had -expressed the thought that lay on their minds. He felt a thrill. She -sympathized, and this was comfort; this was what he wanted! - -"It must have been exciting," Elizabeth continued. "Murder trials -usually are, I believe. I never saw one; I never was in a court-room in -my life. Women do go, I suppose?" - -"Yes--women of a certain kind." His tone deprecated the practice. -"We've had big audiences all the week; it would have disgusted you to -see them struggling and scrambling for admission. Now I suppose they'll -be sending flowers to the wretch, and all that." - -Eades chose to forget how entirely the crowd had sympathized with him, -and how the atmosphere of the trial had been wholly against the wretch. - -"Well, I'll promise not to send him any flowers," Elizabeth said -quickly. "He'll have to hang?" - -"No, not hang; we don't hang people in this state any more; we -electrocute them. But I forgot; Gordon Marriott told me I mustn't say -'electrocute'; he says there is no such word." - -"Gordon is particular," Elizabeth observed with a laugh. - -Eades thought she laughed sympathetically; and he wanted all her -sympathy for himself just then. - -"He calls it killing." Eades grasped the word boldly, like a nettle. - -"Gordon doesn't believe in capital punishment." - -"So I understand." - -"I don't either." - -Her tone startled him. He glanced up. She was looking at him steadily. - -"Did you read of this man's crime?" he asked. - -"No, I don't read about crimes." - -"Then I'll spare you. Only, he shot a man down in cold blood; there -were eye-witnesses; there is no doubt of his guilt. He made no -defense." - -"Then it couldn't have been hard to convict him." - -"No," Eades admitted, though he did not like this detraction from his -triumph. "But the responsibility is great." - -"I should imagine so." - -He did not know exactly what she meant; he wondered if this were -sarcasm. - -"It is indeed," he insisted. - -"Yes," she went on, "I know it must be. I couldn't bear it myself. I'm -glad women are not called to such responsibilities. I believe it is -said--isn't it?--that their sentimental natures unfit them." She was -smiling. - -"You're guying now," he said, leaning back in his chair. - -"Oh, indeed, no! Of course, I know nothing about such things--save that -you men are superior to your emotional natures, and rise above them and -control them." - -"Well, not always. We become emotional, but our emotions are usually -excited on the side of justice." - -"What is that?" - -"Justice? Why--well--" - -"You mean 'an eye for an eye,' I suppose, and 'a life for a life.'" -Elizabeth looked at him steadily, and he feared she was making him -ridiculous. - -"I'm not sure that I believe in capital punishment myself," he said, -seeing that she would not, after all, sympathize with him, "but luckily -I have no choice; I have only my duty to do, and that is to enforce the -laws as I find them." He settled back as if he had found a sure -foundation and placed his fingers tip to tip, his polished nails -gleaming in the firelight as if they were wet. "I can only do my duty; -the jury, the judge, the executioner, may do theirs or not. My personal -feelings can not enter into the matter in the least. That's the beauty -of our system. Of course, it's hard and unpleasant, but we can't allow -our sentiments to stand in the way." Plainly he enjoyed the nobility of -this attitude. "As a man, I might not believe in capital -punishment--but as an official--" - -"You divide yourself into two personalities?" - -"Well, in that sense--" - -"How disagreeable!" Elizabeth gave a little shrug. "It's a kind of -vivisection, isn't it?" - -"But something has to be done. What would you have me do?" He sat up -and met her, and she shrank from the conflict. - -"Oh, don't ask me! I don't know anything about it, I'm sure! I know -but one criminal, and I don't wish to dream about him to-night." - -"It is strange to be discussing such topics," said Eades. "You must -pardon me for being so disagreeable and depressing." - -"Oh, I'll forgive you," she laughed. "I'd really like to know about -such things. As I say, I have known but one criminal." - -"The one you dream of?" - -"Yes. Do you ever dream of your criminals?" - -"Oh, never! It's bad enough to be brought into contact with them by -day; I put them out of my mind when night comes. Except this Burns--he -insists on pursuing me more or less. But now that he has his just -deserts, perhaps he'll let me alone. But tell me about this criminal of -yours, this lucky one you dream of. I'd become a criminal myself--" - -"You know him already," Elizabeth said hastily, her cheeks coloring. - -"I?" - -"Yes. Do you remember Harry Graves?" - -Eades bent his head and placed his knuckles to his chin. - -"Graves, Graves?" he said. "It seems to me--" - -"The boy who stole from my father; you had him sent to the penitentiary -for a year--and papa--" - -"Oh, I remember; that boy! To be sure. His term must be over now." - -"Yes, it's over. I've seen him." - -"You!" he said in surprise. "Where?" - -"At the Charity Bureau, before Christmas." - -"Ah, begging, of course." Eades shook his head. "I was in hopes our -leniency would do him good; but it seems that it's never appreciated. I -sometimes reproach myself with being too easy with them; but they do -disappoint us--almost invariably. Begging! Well, they don't want to -work, that's all. What became of him?" - -"I don't know," said Elizabeth. "I saw him there, but didn't recognize -him. After I had come away, I recalled him. I've reproached myself -again and again. I wonder what has become of him!" - -"It's sad, in a way," said Eades, "but I shouldn't worry. I used to -worry, at first, but I soon learned to know them. They're no good, they -won't work, they have no respect for law, they have no desire but to -gratify their idle, vicious natures. The best thing is just to shut -them up where they can't harm any one. This may seem heartless, but I -don't think I'm heartless." He smiled tolerantly for himself. "I have -no personal feeling in the matter, but I've learned from experience. As -for this Graves--I had my doubts at the time. I thought then I was -making a mistake in recommending leniency. But, really, your father was -so cut up, and I'd rather err on the side of mercy." He paused a -moment, and then said: "He'll turn up in court again some day. You'll -see. I shouldn't lose any more sleep over him." - -Elizabeth smiled faintly, but did not reply. She sat with her elbow on -the arm of her chair, her delicate chin resting on her hand, and Eades -was content to let the subject drop, if it would. He wished the silence -would prolong itself. His heart beat rapidly; he felt a new energy, a -new joy pulsing within him. He sat and looked at her calmly, her gaze -bent on the fire, her profile revealed to him, her lashes sweeping her -cheek, the lace in her sleeve falling away from her slender arm. Should -he tell her then? He longed to--but this was not, after all, the -moment. The moment would come, and he must be patient. He must wait -and prove himself to her; she must understand him; she should see him in -time as the modern ideal of manhood, doing his duty courageously and -without fear or favor. Some day he would tell her. - -"Your charity bazaar was a success, I hope?" he said presently, coming -back to the lighter side of their last topic. - -"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I never inquired." - -"You never inquired?" - -"No." - -"How strange! Why not?" - -"I lost interest." - -"Oh!" he laughed. "Well, we all do that." - -"The whole thing palled on me--struck me as ridiculous." - -Eades was perplexed. He could not in the least understand this latest -attitude. Surely, she was a girl of many surprises. - -"I shouldn't think you would find charity ridiculous. A hard-hearted and -cruel being like me might--but you--oh, Miss Ward! To think that -helping the poor was ridiculous!" - -"But it isn't to help the poor at all." - -He was still more perplexed. - -"It's to help the rich. Can't you see that?" - -She turned and faced him with clear, sober gray eyes. - -"Can't you see that?" she asked again. "If you can't, I wish I knew how -to make you. - -"'The organized charity, scrimped and iced, -In the name of a cautious, statistical Christ'-- - - -"Do you know Boyle O'Reilly's poetry?" - -Eades showed the embarrassment of one who has not the habit of reading, -and she saw that the words had no meaning for him. - -"Don't take it all so seriously," he said, leaning over as if he might -plead with her. "'The poor,' you know, 'we have always with us.'" He -settled back then as one who has said the thing proper to the occasion. - - - - - XVIII - - -Although Marriott had promised Koerner early in the fall that his action -against the railroad would be tried at once, he was unable to bring the -event to pass. In the first place, Bradford Ford, the attorney for the -railroad, had to go east in his private car, then in the winter he had -to go to Florida to rest and play golf, and because of these and other -postponements it was March before the case was finally assigned for -trial. - -"So that's your client back there, is it?" said Ford, the morning of the -trial, turning from the window and the lingering winter outdoors to look -at Koerner. - -Koerner was sitting by the trial table, his old wife by his side. He -was pale and thin from his long winter indoors; his yellow, wrinkled -skin stretched over his jaw-bones, hung flabby at his throat. As Ford -and Marriott looked at him, a troubled expression appeared in Koerner's -face; he did not like to see Marriott so companionable with Ford; he had -ugly suspicions; he felt that Marriott should treat his opponent coldly -and with the enmity such a contest deserved. But just at that minute -Judge Sharlow came in and court was opened. - -The trial lasted three days. The benches behind the bar were empty, the -bailiff slept with his gray chin on his breast, the clerk copied -pleadings in the record, pausing now and then to look out at the -flurries of snow. Sharlow sat on the bench, trying to write an opinion -he had been working on for weeks. The jury sat in the jury-box, their -eyes heavy with drowsiness, breathing grossly. Long ago life had paused -in these men; they had certain fixed opinions, one of which was that any -man who sued a corporation was entitled to damages; and after they had -seen Koerner, with the stump of his leg sticking out from his chair, -they were ready to render a verdict. - -Marriott knew this, and Ford knew it, and consequently they gave -attention, not to the jury, but to the stenographer bending over the -tablet on which he transcribed the testimony with his fountain pen. -Marriott and Ford were concerned about the record; they saw not so much -this trial, as a hearing months or possibly years hence in the Appellate -Court, and still another hearing months or years hence in the Supreme -Court. They knew that just as the jurymen were in sympathy with -Koerner, and by any possible means would give a verdict in his favor, so -the judges in the higher courts would be in sympathy with the railroad -company, and by any possible means give judgment in its favor; and, -therefore, while Marriott's efforts were directed toward trying the case -in such a way that the record should be free from error, Ford's efforts -were directed toward trying the case in such a way that the record -should be full of error. Ford was continually objecting to the -questions Marriott asked his witnesses, and compelling Sharlow to drop -his work and pass on these objections. One of Marriott's witnesses, a -stalwart young mechanic, unmarried and with no responsibilities, -testified positively that the frog in which Koerner had caught his foot -had no block in it; he had examined it carefully at the time. Another, -a man of middle age with a large family, an employe of the railroad -company, had the most unreliable memory--he could remember nothing at -all about the frog; he could not say whether it had been blocked or not; -he had not examined it; he had not considered it any of his business. -While giving his testimony, he cast fearful and appealing glances at -Ford, who smiled complacently, and for a while made no objections. -Another witness was Gergen, the surgeon, a young man with eye-glasses, a -tiny gold chain, and a scant black beard trimmed closely to his pale -skin and pointed after the French fashion. He retained his overcoat and -kept on his glasses while he testified, as if he must get through with -this business and return to his practice as quickly as possible. With -the greatest care he couched all his testimony in scientific phrases. - -"I was summoned to the hospital," he said, "at seven-sixteen on that -evening and found the patient prostrated by hemorrhage and shock. I -supplemented the superficial examination of the internes and found that -there were contusions on the left hip, and severe bruises on the entire -left side. The most severe injury, however, developed in the right -foot. The tibiotarsal articulation was destroyed, the calcaneum and -astragalus were crushed and inoperable, the metatarsus and phalanges, -and the internal and external malleolus were also crushed, and the -fibula and tibia were splintered to the knee." - -"Well, what then?" - -"I gave orders to have the patient prepared, and proceeded to operate. -My assistant, Doctor Remack, administered the anesthetic, and I -amputated at the lower third." - -Doctor Gergen then explained that what he had said meant that he had -found Koerner's foot, ankle and knee crushed, and that he had cut off -his leg above the knee. After this he told what fee he had charged; he -did this in plain terms, calling dollars dollars, and cents cents. - -But Koerner himself was a sufficient witness in his own behalf. Sitting -on the stand, his crutches in the hollow of his arm, the stump of his -leg thrust straight out before him and twitching now and then, he told -of his long service with the railroad, pictured the blinding snow-storm, -described how he had slipped and caught his foot in the unblocked -frog--then the switch-engine noiselessly stealing down upon him. The -jurymen roused from their lethargy as he turned his white and bony face -toward them; the atmosphere was suddenly charged with the sympathy these -aged men felt for him. Sharlow paused in his writing, the clerk ceased -from his monotonous work, and Mrs. Koerner, whose expression had not -changed, wiped her eyes with the handkerchief which, fresh from the -iron, she had held all day without unfolding. - -When Ford began his cross-examination, Koerner twisted about with -difficulty in his chair, threw back his head, and his face became hard -and obdurate. He ran his stiff and calloused hand through his white -hair, which seemed to bristle with leonine defiance. Ford conducted his -cross-examination in soft, pleasant tones, spoke to Koerner kindly and -with consideration, scrupulously addressed him as "Mr. Koerner," and had -him repeat all he had said about his injury. - -"As I understand it, then, Mr. Koerner," said Ford, "you were walking -homeward at the end of the day through the railroad yards." - -"Yes, sir, dot's right." - -"You'd always gone home that way?" - -"Sure; I go dot vay for twenty year, right t'rough dose yards dere." - -"Yes. Was that a public highway, Mr. Koerner?" - -"Vell, everybody go dot vay home all right; dot's so." - -"But it wasn't a street?" - -"No." - -"Nor a sidewalk?" - -"You know dot alreadty yourself," said Koerner, leaning forward, -contracting his bushy white eyebrows and glaring at Ford. "Vot you vant -to boder me mit such a damn-fool question for?" - -The jurymen laughed and Ford smiled. - -"I know, of course, Mr. Koerner; you will pardon me--but what I wish to -know is whether or not you know. You had passed through those yards -frequently?" - -"Yah, undt I knows a damn-sight more about dose yards dan you, you bet." - -Again the jurymen laughed in vicarious pleasure at another's profanity. - -"I yield to you there, Mr. Koerner," said Ford in his suave manner. -"But let us go on. You say your foot slipped?" - -"Yah, dot's right." - -"Slipped on the frozen snow?" - -"Yah. I bedt you shlip on such a place as dot." - -"No doubt," said Ford, who suddenly ceased to smile. He now leaned -forward; the faces of the two protagonists seemed to be close together. - -"And, as a result, your foot slid into the frog, and was wedged there so -that you could not get it out?" - -"Yah." - -"And the engine came along just then and ran over it?" - -"Yah." - -Ford suddenly sat upright, turned away, seemed to have lost interest, -and said: - -"That's all, Mr. Koerner." - -And the old man was left sitting there, suspended as it were, his neck -out-thrust, his white brows gathered in a scowl, his small eyes -blinking. - -Sharlow looked at Marriott, then said, as if to hurry Koerner off the -stand: - -"That's all, Mr. Koerner. Call your next." - -When all the testimony for the plaintiff had been presented Ford moved -to arrest the case from the jury; that is, he wished Sharlow to give -judgment in favor of the railroad company without proceeding further. In -making this motion, Ford stood beside his table, one hand resting on a -pile of law-books he had had borne into the court-room that afternoon by -a young attorney just admitted to the bar, who acted partly as clerk and -partly as porter for Ford, carrying his law-books for him, finding his -place in them, and, in general, relieving Ford from all that manual -effort which is thought incompatible with professional dignity. As he -spoke, Ford held in his hand the gold eye-glasses which seemed to betray -him into an age which he did not look and did not like to admit. -Marriott had expected this motion and listened attentively to what Ford -said. The Koerners, who did not at all understand, waited patiently. -Meanwhile, Sharlow excused the jury, sank deeper in his chair and laid -his forefinger learnedly along his cheek. - -Ford's motion was based on the contention that the failure to block the -frog--he spoke of this failure, perfectly patent to every one, as an -alleged failure, and was careful to say that the defendant did not admit -that the frog had not been blocked--that the alleged failure was not the -proximate cause of Koerner's injury, but that the real cause was the ice -about the frog on which Koerner, according to his own admission, had -slipped. The unblocked frog, he said--admitting merely for the sake of -argument that the frog was unblocked--was the remote cause, the ice was -the proximate cause; the question then was, which of these had caused -Koerner's injury? It was necessary that the injury be the effect of a -cause which in law-books was referred to as a proximate cause; if it was -not referred to as a proximate cause, but as a remote cause, then -Koerner could not recover his damages. After elaborating this view and -many times repeating the word "proximate," which seemed to take on a -more formidable and insuperable sound each time he uttered it, Ford -proceeded to elucidate his thought further, and in doing this, he used a -term even more impressive than the word proximate; he used the phrase, -"act of God." The ice, he said, was an "act of God," and as the -railroad company was responsible, under the law, for its own acts only, -it followed that, as "an act of God" was not an act of the railroad -company, but an act of another, that is, of God, the railroad company -could not be held accountable for the ice. - -Having, as he said, indicated the outline of his argument, Ford said -that he would pass to a second proposition; namely, that the motion must -be granted for another reason. In stating this reason, Ford used the -phrases, "trespass" and "contributory negligence," and these phrases had -a sound even more ominous than the phrases "proximate" and "act of God." -Ford declared that the railroad yards were the property of the railroad -company, and therefore not a thoroughfare, and that Koerner, in walking -through them, was a trespasser. The fact that Koerner was in the employ -of the railroad, he said, did not give him the right to enter in and -upon the yards--he had the lawyer's reckless extravagance in the use of -prepositions, and whenever it was possible used the word "said" in place -of "the"--for the reason that his employment did not necessarily lead -him to said yard and, more than all, when Koerner completed his labors -for the day, his right to remain in and about said premises instantly -ceased. Therefore, he contended, Koerner was a trespasser, and a -trespasser must suffer all the consequences of his trespass. Then Ford -began to use the phrase "contributory negligence." He said that Koerner -had been negligent in continuing in and upon said premises, and besides, -had not used due care in avoiding the ice and snow on and about said -frog; that he had the same means of knowing that the ice was there that -the railroad company had, and hence had assumed whatever risk there was -in passing on and over said ice, and that then and thereby he had been -guilty of contributory negligence; that is, had contributed, by his own -negligence, to his own injury. In fact, it seemed from Ford's argument -that Koerner had really invited his injury and purposely had the -switch-engine cut off his leg. - -"These, in brief, if the Court please," said Ford, who had spoken for an -hour, "are the propositions I wish to place before your Honor." Ford -paused, drew from his pocket a handkerchief, pressed it to his lips, -passed it lightly over his forehead, and laid it on the table. Then he -selected a law-book from the pile and opened it at the page his clerk -had marked with a slip of paper. Sharlow, knowing what he had to expect, -stirred uneasily and glanced at the clock. - -During Ford's argument Sharlow had been thinking the matter over. He -knew, of course, that the same combination of circumstances is never -repeated, that there could be no other case in the world just like this, -but that there were hundreds which resembled it, and that Ford and -Marriott would ransack the law libraries to find these cases, explain -them to him, differentiate them, and show how they resembled or did not -resemble the case at bar. And, further, he knew that before he could -decide the question Ford had raised he would have to stop and think what -the common law of England had been on the subject, then whether that law -had been changed by statute, then whether the statute had been changed, -and, if it was still on the statute books, whether it could be said to -be contrary to the Constitution of the United States or of the State. -Then he would have to see what the courts had said about the subject, -and, if more than one court had spoken, whether their opinions were in -accord or at variance with each other. Besides this he would have to -find out what the courts of other states had said on similar subjects -and whether they had reversed themselves; that is, said at one time -something contrary to what they had said at another. If he could not -reconcile these decisions he would have to render a decision himself, -which he did not like to do, for there was always the danger that some -case among the thousands reported had been overlooked by him, or by Ford -or Marriott, and that the courts which would review his decision, in the -years that would be devoted to the search, might discover that other -case and declare that he had not decided the question properly. And -even if the courts had decided this question, it might be discovered -that the question was not, after all, the exact question involved in -this case, or was not the exact question the courts had meant to decide. -It would not do for Sharlow to decide this case according to the simple -rule of right and wrong, which he could have found by looking into his -own heart; that would not be lawful; he must decide it according to what -had been said by other judges, most of whom were dead. Though if -Sharlow did decide, his decision would become law for other judges to be -guided by, until some judge in the future gave a different opinion. - -Considering all this, Sharlow determined to postpone his decision as -long as possible, and told Ford that he would not then listen to his -authorities, but would hear what Marriott had to say. - -And then Marriott spoke at length, opposing all that Ford had said, -saying that the unblocked frog must be the proximate cause, for if it -had been blocked, Koerner could not have caught his foot in it and could -have got out of the way of the switch-engine. Furthermore, he declared -that the yards had been used by the employes as a thoroughfare so long -that a custom had been established; that the unblocked frog, according -to the statute, was _prima facie_ negligence on the part of the -defendant. And he said that if Ford was to submit authorities, he would -like an opportunity to submit other authorities equally authoritative. -At this Sharlow bowed, said he would adjourn court until two o'clock in -order to consider the question, recalled the jury and cautioned them not -to talk about the case. This caution was entirely worthless, because -they talked of nothing else, either among themselves or with others; -being idle men, they had nothing else to talk about. - -Koerner had listened with amazement to Ford and Marriott, wondering how -long they could talk about such incomprehensible subjects. He had tried -to follow Ford's remarks and then had tried to follow Marriott's, but he -derived nothing from it all except further suspicions of Marriott, who -seemed to talk exactly as Ford talked and to use the same words and -phrases. He felt, too, that Marriott should have spoken in louder tones -and more vehemently, and shown more antipathy to Ford. And when they -went out of the court-house, he asked Marriott what it all meant. But -Marriott, who could not himself tell as yet what it meant, assured -Koerner that an important legal question had arisen and that they must -wait until it had been fully argued, considered and decided by the -court. Koerner swung away on his crutches, saying to himself that it -was all very strange; the switch-engine had cut off his leg, against his -will, no one could gainsay that, and the only important question Koerner -could see was how much the law would make the railroad company pay him -for cutting off his leg. It seemed silly to him that so much time -should be wasted over such matters. But then, as Marriott had said, it -was impossible for Koerner to understand legal questions. - -By the time he opened court in the afternoon, Sharlow had decided on a -course of action, one that would give him time to think over the -question further. He announced that he would overrule the motion, but -that counsel for defense might raise the question again at the close of -the evidence, and, should a verdict result unfavorably to him, on the -motion for a new trial. - -Ford took exceptions, and began his defense, introducing several -employes of the railroad to give testimony about the ice at the frog. -When his evidence was in, Ford moved again to take the case from the -jury, but Sharlow, having thought the matter over and found it necessary -for his peace of mind to reach some conclusion, overruled the motion. - -Then came the arguments, extending themselves into the following day; -then Sharlow must speak; he must charge the jury. The purpose of the -charge was to lay the law of the case before the jury, and for an hour -he went on, talking of "proximate cause," of "contributory negligence," -of "measure of damages," and at last, the jury having been confused -sufficiently to meet all the requirements of the law, he told them they -might retire. - -It was now noon, and the court was deserted by all but Koerner and his -wife, who sat there, side by side, and waited. It was too far for them -to go home, and they had no money with which to lunch down town. The -bright sun streamed through the windows with the first promise of -returning warmth. Now and then from the jury room the Koerners could -hear voices raised in argument; then the noise would die, and for a long -time it would be very still. Occasionally they would hear other sounds, -the scraping of a chair on the floor, once a noise as of some one -pounding a table; voices were raised again, then it grew still. And -Koerner and his wife waited. - -At half-past one the bailiff returned. - -"Any sign?" he asked Koerner. - -"Dey was some fightin'." - -"They'll take their time," said the bailiff. - -"Vot you t'ink?" Koerner ventured to ask. - -"Oh, you'll win," said the bailiff. But Koerner was not so sure about -that. - -At two o'clock Sharlow returned and court began again. Another jury was -called, another case opened, Koerner gave place to another man who was -to exchange his present troubles for the more annoying ones the law -would give him; to experience Koerner's perplexity, doubt, confusion, -and hope changing constantly to fear. Other lawyers began other -wrangles over other questions of law. - -At three o'clock there was a loud pounding on the door of the jury room. -Every one in the court-room turned with sudden expectation. The bailiff -drew out his keys, unlocked the door, spoke to the men inside, and then -went to telephone to Marriott and Ford. After a while Marriott appeared, -but Ford had not arrived. Marriott went out himself and telephoned; -Ford had not returned from luncheon. He telephoned to Ford's home, then -to his club. Finally, at four o'clock, Ford came. - -After the verdict Marriott went to the Koerners and whispered: - -"We can go now." - -The old man got up, his wife helped him into his overcoat, and he swung -out of the court-room on his crutches. He had tried to understand what -the clerk had read, but could not. He thought he had lost his case. - -"Well, I congratulate you, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott when they were in -the corridor. - -"How's dot?" asked the old man harshly. - -"Why, you won." - -"Me?" - -"Yes; didn't you know?" - -"I vin?" - -"Certainly, you won. You get eight thousand dollars." - -The old man stopped and looked at Marriott. - -"Eight t'ousandt?" - -"Yes, eight thousand." - -"I get eight t'ousandt, huh?" - -"Yes." - -A smile transfigured the heavy, bony face. - -"Py Gott!" he said. "Dot's goodt, hain't it?" - - - - - XIX - - -Late in April they argued the motion for a new trial, and on the last -day of the term Sharlow announced his decision, overruling the motion, -and entered judgment in Koerner's favor. Though Marriott knew that Ford -would carry the case up on error, he had, nevertheless, won a victory, -and he felt so confident and happy that he decided to go to Koerner and -tell him the good news. The sky had lost the pale shimmer of the early -spring and taken on a deeper tone. The sun was warm, and in the narrow -plots between the wooden sidewalks and the curb, the grass was green. -The trees wore a gauze of yellowish green, the first glow of living -color they soon must show. A robin sprang swiftly across a lawn, -stopping to swell his ruddy breast. Marriott made a short cut across a -commons, beyond which the spire of a Polish Catholic church rose into -the sky. The bare spots of the commons, warmed by the sun, exhaled the -strong odor of the earth, recalling memories of other springs. Some -shaggy boys, truants, doubtless, too wise to go to school on such a day, -were playing a game of base-ball, writhing and contorting their little -bodies, raging and screaming and swearing at one another in innocent -imitation of the profanity of their fathers and elder brothers. - -Koerner, supported by one crutch, was leaning over his front gate. He -was recklessly bareheaded; his white, disordered hair maintained its -aspect of fierceness, and, as Marriott drew near, he turned on him his -great, bony face, without a change of expression. - -"Well, Mr. Koerner, this is a fine day, isn't it?" said Marriott as he -took the old man's hand. "I guess the spring's here at last." - -Koerner took his constant pipe from his lips, raised his eyes and made -an observation of the heavens. - -"Vell, dot veat'er's all right." As he returned the amber stem to his -yellow teeth, Marriott saw that the blackened bowl of the pipe was -empty. The old man let Marriott in at his gate, then swinging about, -went to the stoop, lowered himself from his crutches and sat down, with -a grunt at the effort. - -"Aren't you afraid for your rheumatism?" asked Marriott, sitting down -beside him. - -"Vot's up now again, huh?" demanded Koerner, ignoring this solicitude -for his health. - -"Nothing but good news this time," Marriott was glad to say. - -"Goodt news, huh?" - -"Yes, good news. The judge has refused the motion for a new trial." - -"Den I vin for sure dis time, ain't it?" - -"Yes, this time," said Marriott. - -"I get my money now right avay?" - -"Well, pretty soon." - -The old man turned to Marriott with his blue eyes narrowed beneath the -white brush of his eyebrows. - -"Vot you mean by dot pretty soon?" - -"Well, you see, Mr. Koerner, as I explained to you,"--Marriott set -himself to the task of explaining the latest development in the case; he -tried to present the proceedings in the Appellate Court in their most -encouraging light, but he was conscious that Koerner understood nothing -save that there were to be more delays. - -"But we must be patient, Mr. Koerner," he said. "It will come out all -right." - -Koerner made no reply. To Marriott his figure was infinitely pathetic. -He looked at the great face, lined and seamed; the eyes that saw -nothing--not the little yard before them where the turf was growing -green, not the blackened limbs of a little maple tree struggling to put -forth its leaves, not the warm mud glistening in the sun, not the dirty -street piled with ashes, not the broken fence and sidewalk, the ugly -little houses across the street, nor the purple sky above them--they -were gazing beyond all this. Marriott looked at the old man's lips; -they trembled, then they puckered themselves about the stem of his pipe -and puffed automatically. Marriott, hanging his head, lighted a -cigarette. - -"Mis'er Marriott," Koerner began presently, "I been an oldt man. I been -an hones' man; py Gott! I vork hardt efery day. I haf blenty troubles. -I t'ink ven I lose dot damned oldt leg, I t'ink, vell, maybe I get some -rest now bretty soon. I say to dot oldt leg: 'You bin achin' mit der -rheumatiz all dose year, now you haf to kvit, py Gott!' I t'ink I get -some rest, I get some dose damages, den maybe I take der oldt voman undt -dose childer undt I go out to der oldt gountry; I go back to Chairmany, -undt I haf some peace dere. Vell--dot's been a long time, Mis'er -Marriott; dot law, he's a damn humpug; he's bin fer der railroadt -gompany; he's not been fer der boor man. Der boor man, he's got no -show. Dot's been a long time. Maybe, by undt by I die--dot case, he's -still go on, huh?" - -The old man looked at Marriott quizzically. - -"Vell, I gan't go out to der oldt gountry now any more. I haf more -drouble--dot poy Archie--vell, he bin in drouble too, and now my girl, -dot Gusta--" - -The old man's lips trembled. - -"Vell, she's gone, too." - -A tear was rolling down Koerner's cheek. Marriott could not answer him -just then; he did not dare to look; he could scarcely bear to think of -this old man, with his dream of going home to the Fatherland--and all -his disappointments. Suddenly, the spring had receded again; the air -was chill, the sun lost its warmth, the sky took on the pale, cold -glitter of the days he thought were gone. He could hear Koerner's lips -puffing at his pipe. Suddenly, a suspicion came to him. - -"Mr. Koerner," he asked, "why aren't you smoking?" - -The old man seemed ashamed. - -"Tell me," Marriott demanded. - -"Vell--dot's all right. I hain't--chust got der tobacco." - -The truth flashed on Marriott; this was deprivation--when a man could -not get tobacco! He thought an instant; then he drew out his case of -cigarettes, took them, broke their papers and seizing Koerner's hand -said: - -"Here, here's a pipeful, anyway; this'll do till I can send you some." - -And he poured the tobacco into Koerner's bare palm. The old man took the -tobacco, pressed it into the bowl of his pipe, Marriott struck a match, -Koerner lighted his pipe, and sat a few moments in the comfort of -smoking again. - -"Dot's bretty goodt," he said presently. He smoked on. After a while -he turned to Marriott with his old shrewd, humorous glance, his blue -eyes twinkled, his white brows twitched. - -"Vell, Mis'er Marriott, you nefer t'ought you see der oldt man shmokin' -cigarettes, huh?" - -Marriott laughed, glad of the relief, and glad of the new sense of -comradeship the tobacco brought. - -"Now tell me, Mr. Koerner," he said, "are you in want--do you need -anything?" - -Koerner did not reply at once. - -"Come on now," Marriott urged, "tell me--have you anything to eat in the -house?" - -"Vell," Koerner admitted, "not much." - -"Have you anything at all to eat?" - -Koerner hung his head then, in the strange, unaccountable shame people -feel in poverty. - -"Vell, I--undt der oldt voman--ve hafn't had anyt'ing to eat to-day." - -"And the children?" - -"Ve gif dem der last dis morning alreadty." - -Marriott closed his eyes in the pain of it. He reproached himself that -he who argued so glibly that people in general lack the cultured -imagination that would enable them to realize the plight of the -submerged poor, should have had this condition so long under his very -eyes and not have seen it. He was humbled, and then he was angry with -himself--an anger he was instantly able to change into an anger with -Koerner. - -"Well, Mr. Koerner," he said. "I don't know that I ought to sympathize -with you, after all. You might have told me; you might have known I -should be glad to help you; you might have saved me--" - -He was about to add "the pain," but he recognized the selfishness of -this view, and paused. - -"I'll help you, of course," he went on. "My God, man, you mustn't go -hungry! Won't the grocer trust you?" - -The old man was humbled now, and this humility, this final acquiescence -and submission, this rare spirit beaten down and broken at last, this -was hardest of all to bear, unless it were his own self-consciousness in -this presence of humiliated age--these white hairs and he himself so -young! He felt like turning from the indignity of this poverty, as if -he had been intruding on another's unmerited shame. - -"I'll go and attend to it," said Marriott, rising at once. - -"No, you vait," said Koerner, "chust a minute. You know my boy, Mis'er -Marriott, Archie? Vell, I write him aboudt der case, but I don't get a -answer. He used to write eff'ry two veeks, undt now--he don't write no -more. Vot you t'ink, huh?" The old man looked up at him in the hunger -of soul that is even more dreadful than the hunger of body. - -"I'll attend to that, too, Mr. Koerner; I'll write down and find out, -and I'll let you know." - -"Undt Gusta," the old man began as if, having opened his heart at last, -he would unburden it of all its woes--but he paused and shook his head -slowly. "Dot's no use, I guess. De veat'er's getting bedder now, undt -maybe I get out some; maybe I look her up undt find her." - -"You don't know where she is?" - -The white head shook again. - -"She's go avay--she's got in trouble, too." - -In trouble! It was all the same to him--poverty, hunger, misfortune, -guilt, frailty, false steps, crime, sin--to these wise poor, thought -Marriott, it was all just "trouble." - -"But it will be all right," he said, "and I'll advance you what money -you need. I'll write to the warden about Archie, we'll find Gusta, and -we'll win the case." He thought again--the old man might as well have -his dream, too. "You'll go back to Germany yet, you'll see." - -Koerner looked up, clutching at hope again. - -"You t'ink dot? You t'ink I vin, huh?" - -"Sure," said Marriott heartily, determined to drag joy back into the -world. - -"Py Gott, dot's goodt! I guess I beat dot gompany. I vork for it dose -t'irty-sefen year; den dey turn me off. Vell, I beat him, yet. Chust -let dot lawyer Ford talk; let him talk his damned headt off. I beat -him--some day." - -"I'll go now, Mr. Koerner. I'll speak to the grocer, and I'll send you -something so you can have a little supper. No, don't get up." - -Koerner stretched forth his hand. - -"You bin a goodt friendt, Mis'er Marriott." - -Marriott went to the grocery on the corner. The grocer, a little man, -very fat, ran about filling his orders, sickening Marriott with his -petty sycophancy. - -"Some bacon? Yes, sir. Sugar, butter, bread? Yes, sir. Coffee? Here -you are, sir. Potatoes--about a peck, sir?" - -Marriott, with no notion of what he should buy, bought everything, and -added some tobacco for Koerner and some candy for the children. And -when he had arranged with the grocer for an extension of credit to -Koerner on his own promise to pay--a promise the canny grocer had -Marriott indorse on the card he gave him--Marriott went away with some -of the satisfaction of his good deed; but the grace of spring had gone -out of the day and would not now return. - - - - - XX - - -The reason why Archie had not answered his father's letter was a simple -one. On that spring afternoon while Koerner and Marriott were sitting -on the stoop, Archie, stripped to the waist, was hanging by his wrists -from the ceiling of a dungeon, called a bull cell, in the cellar under -the chapel, his bare feet just touching the floor. He had been hanging -there for three days. At night he was let down and given a piece of -bread and a cup of water, and allowed to lie on the floor, still -handcuffed. At morning guards came, raised Archie, lifted him up, and -chained his wrists to the bull rings. Later, Deputy Warden Ball -sauntered by with his cane hooked over his arm, peered in through the -bars, smiled, and said, in his peculiar soft voice: - -"Well, Archie, my boy, had enough?" - - -McBride, the contractor, who had picked Archie out of the group of new -convicts in the idle house the day after he arrived at the prison, had -set him to work in a shop known as "Bolt B." His work was to make iron -bolts, and all day long, from seven in the morning until five in the -afternoon, he stood with one foot on the treadle, sticking little bits -of iron into the maw of the machine and snatching them out again. At -dinner-time the convicts marched out of the shop, stood in close-locked -ranks until the whistle blew, and then marched across the yard to the -dining-room for their sky-blue, their bread, their molasses and their -boot-leg. Archie had watched the seasons change in this yard, he had -seen its grass-plot fade and the leaves of its stunted trees turn -yellow, he had seen it piled with snow and ice; now it was turning green -with spring, just like the world outside. Sometimes, as they passed, he -caught a glimpse of the death-squad--the men who were being kept until -they could be killed in the electric chair--taking their daily exercise, -curiously enough, for the benefit of their health. This squad varied in -numbers. Sometimes there were a dozen, then there would come a night of -horror when the floor of the cell-house was deadened with saw-dust. The -next day one would be missing; only eleven would be exercising for their -health. Then would come other nights of horror, and the squad would -decrease until there were but six. But soon it would begin to increase -again, and the number would run up to the normal. Sometimes, in summer, -the Sunday-school excursionists had an opportunity to see the -death-squad. Archie had seen the children, held by a sick, morbid -interest, shrink when the men marched by, as if they were something -other than mere people. - -Each evening Archie and the other convicts marched again to the -dining-room, and ate bread and molasses; then they sat in their cells -for an hour while the cell-house echoed with the twanging of guitars and -banjos, mouth-organs, jews'-harps, accordeons, and the raucous voices of -the peddlers--a hideous bedlam. Those who had hall-permits talked with -one another, or with friendly guards. Sometimes, if the guard were -"right," he gave Archie a candle and permitted him to read after the -lights were out. - -All week-days were alike. On Sunday they went to chapel and listened to -the chaplain talk about Christ, who, it was said, came to preach -deliverance to the captives. The chaplain told the convicts they could -save their souls in the world to which they would go when they died, if -they believed on Christ. Archie did not understand what it was that he -was expected to believe, any more than he had when the sky-pilot at the -works had said very much the same thing. It could not be that they -expected him to believe that Christ came to preach deliverance to -captives such as he. So he paid no attention to the sky-pilot. He -found it more interesting to watch the death-squad, who, as likely to go -to that world before any of the others, were given seats in the front -pews. Near the death-squad were several convicts in chains. They were -considered to be extremely bad and greatly in need of religion. The -authorities, it seemed, were determined to give them this religion, even -if they had to hold them in chains while they did so. In the corners of -the chapel, behind protecting iron bars, were guards armed with rifles, -who vigilantly watched the convicts while the chaplain preached to them -the religion of the gentle Nazarene. The chaplain said it was the -religion of the gentle Nazarene, but in reality it was the religion of -Moses, or sometimes that of Paul, and even of later men that he preached -to the convicts rather than the religion of Jesus. The convicts did not -know this, however. Neither did the chaplain. - -Yes, the days were exactly alike, especially as to the work, for Archie -was required to turn out hundreds of bolts a day; a minimum number was -fixed, and this was called a "task." If he did not do this task, he was -punished. It was difficult to perform this task; only by toiling -incessantly every minute could he succeed. And even then it was hard, -for in addition to keeping his eye on his machine, he had to keep his -eye on the pile of bolts beside him, for the other convicts would rat; -that is, steal from his pile in order to lessen their own tasks. For -those bolts that were spoiled, Archie was given no credit; every hour an -inspector came around, looked the bolts over and threw out those that -were defective. For this toil, which was unpaid and in which he took no -pride and found no joy because it was ugly and without any result to -him, Archie felt nothing but loathing. This feeling was common among -all the men in the shop; they resorted to all sorts of devices to escape -it; some of them allowed the machines to snip off the ends of their -fingers so they could work no more; others found a friend in Sweeny, the -confidence man who was serving a five-year sentence and was detailed as -a steward in the hospital. When they were in the hospital, Sweeny would -burn the end of a finger with acid, rub dirt on it, and when it -festered, amputate the finger. - -Belden, who worked a machine next to Archie, did that; but only as a -last resort. - -"It's no use for me to learn this trade," he said to Archie one day when -the guard was at the other end of the shop. - -"Why not?" - -"'Cause I'll be on the street in two months; my mouthpiece's going to -take my case to the Supreme Court, and he's sure to have it reversed. -All I got to do's to raise a hundred and fifty case; I've written my -mother, and she's already saved up seventy-eight. There's nothing to it. -Me learn to make these damned bolts for McBride? I guess not!" - -Belden talked a great deal about his case in the Supreme Court. Many of -the convicts did that. They did everything to raise money for their -lawyers. After Belden's attorney had taken the case up, and failed, -Belden made application for pardon; and this required more money. His -mother was saving up again. But this failed also; then Belden feigned -sickness, was sent to the hospital; and they all admired him for his -success. - -Archie was sick once, and after three sick calls--he was, in reality, -utterly miserable and suffered greatly--the physician, who, like every -one else in the penitentiary, was controlled by the contractors, gave in -and sent him to the hospital. Though the hospital was a filthy place, -Archie for two days enjoyed the rest he found there. Then Sweeny told -him that the bed he occupied had not been changed since a consumptive -had died in it the day before Archie arrived. - -"You stick to that pad," said Sweeny, "and the croakers'll be peddling -your stiff in a month." - -Sweeny was accounted very wise, as indeed he was; for he held his -position by reason of his discovery that the doctor was supplying his -brother, who kept a drugstore outside, with medicines, silk bandages, -plasters and surgical instruments. - -Archie recovered then and went back to Bolt B. - -After his return things went better for a while, because, to his -surprise, the Kid, of whom he had heard in the jail at home, was there -working at the machine next to his. The Kid had been transferred to -that shop because he had utterly demoralized Bolt A, where he had been -working. The little pickpocket, indeed, had been tried on all kinds of -work--in the broom factory, in the cigar factory, in the foundry, -everywhere, but he could not long be tolerated anywhere. His presence -was too diverting. He was taken from the broom shop because he amused -himself at the expense of a country boy sent up for grand larceny, whom, -as the country boy thought, he was teaching to be a prowler. In the -cigar shop he made another unsophisticated boy think that he could teach -him the secret of making "cluck," or counterfeit money; and he went so -far as to give him a can of soft gray earth, which the convict thought -was crude silver, and some broken glass to give the metal the proper -ring. The convict hid this rubbish in his cell and jealously guarded -it; he was to be released in a month. For a while the warden employed -the Kid about the office, but one day he said to one of the trusties, an -old life man who had been in the prison twenty years, until his mind had -weakened under the confinement: - -"What do you want to stay around here for? Ain't there other countries -besides this?" - -The old man sniggered in his silly way, then he went to the warden, and -hanging his head with a demented leer said: - -"Warden, the Kid said there's other countries besides this." - -He stood, swaying like a doltish school-boy from side to side, grinning, -with his tongue lolling over his lips. - -The warden summoned the Kid. - -"What do you mean," he said, "putting notions in old Farlow's head?" - -The Kid was surprised. - -"Oh, come off," said the warden impatiently. "You know--telling him -there were other countries besides this?" - -"Oh!" said the Kid with sudden illumination. "Oh, now I know what you -mean!" And he laughed. "He asked me where I was from and I told him -Canada. Then he wanted to know if Canada was in this country, and I told -him there were other countries besides this." - -"You're too smart, Willie," said the warden. "You'd better go back to -the shops." - -They tried all the punishments, the paddle, the battery, the water-cure, -the bull rings, but nothing availed to break the Kid's spirit. Then he -was put on a bolt machine. - -There was a convict named Dalton working near Archie and the Kid. -Dalton had but one thought left in his mind, and this was that when he -got out he would go to where he had concealed a kit of burglar tools. -He had been the victim of some earlier practical jokers in the -penitentiary, and had had a locksmith fashion for him tools such as no -burglar ever needed or used in a business in which a jimmy, a piece of -broom-stick and creepers are all the paraphernalia necessary. Dalton -still had fourteen years to serve. - -"Well, Jack, how's everything this morning?" the Kid would ask as soon -as the guard went down to the other end of the shop. - -"Oh, all right," Dalton would reply. Then he would grow serious, grit -his teeth, clench his fist for emphasis and say: "Just wait till I get -home! By God, if any one springs that kit of mine, I'll croak him!" - -"Where's the plant?" the Kid would ask. "In the jungle?" - -"Oh, you'll never find out!" Dalton would reply warily. - -"Some of the hoosiers or the bulls are likely to spring it," the Kid -would suggest. - -The possibility tortured Dalton. - -"By God," he could only say, "if they do--I'll croak 'em!" - -"I wouldn't do that," said the Kid. "Get Dutch here to take you out -with a tribe of peter men; he can teach you to pour the soup. Can't you -get a little soup and some strings and begin with him now, Archie?" - -"Sure," said Archie, grinning, proud to be thus recognized. - -"That's the grift; we'll nick the screw; and when you go home you'll be -ready to--" - -"No," said Dalton determinedly, "I've got them tools planted--but--" - -"Why don't you take him out with a swell mob of guns?" suggested Archie. - -"Think he could stall for the dip?" asked the Kid. "What do you think, -Jack?" - -"I'll stick to prowlin'," said Dalton, shaking his head and muttering to -himself. - -"He's stir simple," remarked the Kid, not without pity. - -But the Kid was tired of his new occupation. - -"I don't believe I'm a very good bolt-maker," he said to Archie. - -"You might cut off a finger, or get Sweeny--" - -"Nix," said the Kid. "Not for Willie. I'll need my finger. I'd do a -nice job of reefing a kick with a finger gone, wouldn't I?" He looked -at his fingers, rapidly stiffening under the rough, hard work. - -"Didn't I tell you to stop that spieling?" demanded a guard who had -slipped up behind him. - -The Kid gave the guard a look that expressed the contempt he felt for -him better than any words. - -"I'll report you for insolence," said the guard angrily. - -"For what?" said the Kid. - -"Insolence." - -"How could you?" asked the Kid calmly. "You couldn't spell the word." - -The guard made a mark on his card. - -"You'll be stood out for that," said the guard. The Kid's face -darkened, but he controlled himself. For he had another plan. - -A few days later he said to Archie: - -"Are you on to that inspector?" - -"What for?" asked Archie. - -"He's boostin' bolts." - -Archie thought of this for a long time. It took several days for him to -realize a new idea. The inspector, in pretending to throw out defective -bolts, threw out quite as many perfect ones. These were boxed, shipped -and sold by the contractor, who pocketed the entire proceeds without -reporting them to the authorities. The Kid had discovered this system -after a week of experience in having his labor stolen from him, and the -inspector, more and more greedy, had grown bolder, until now he was -stealing large quantities of bolts; and the tasks of Archie and the Kid -were becoming more and more impossible of performance. The Kid was -silent for days; his brows contracted as he jumped nimbly up and down -before his clanking machine. Then one day when McBride was in the shop -the Kid obtained permission to speak to him. - -"Mr. McBride," he said, "I want a thousand dollars." - -McBride took his cigar from his lips, flecked some dust from his new -top-coat, and a laugh spread over his rough red face. - -"What's the kid this time, Willie?" - -"This is on the square," said the Kid. "I want a thousand case, that's -all." - -McBride saw that he was serious for once. - -"I'll blow it off, if you don't," said the Kid. - -"Blow what off?" - -"The graft." - -"What graft?" - -"The defectives--oh, you know!" - -McBride turned ashen, then his face blazed suddenly with rage. - -"I'll report you for this insolence!" - -"All right," said the Kid, "I'll report you for stealing. It ain't -moral, the sky-pilot says." - -Archie saw the Kid no more after that evening; he was "stood out" at -roll-call; and in the way the news of the little insular world inclosed -in the prison walls spreads among its inmates, he heard that the Kid had -been given the paddle and had been hung up in the cellar. When his -punishment was ended, he was transferred to the shoe shop and set to -work making paper soles for shoes. But he did not work long. He soon -conceived a plan which for two years was to baffle all the prison -authorities, especially the physicians. He developed a disease of the -nerves; he said it was the result of running a bolt machine and of his -subsequent punishment. The theory he imparted to the doctors, in his -innocent manner, was that the blows of the paddle with the hanging had -bruised and stretched his spine. - -The symptoms of the Kid's strange affliction were these: he could not -stand still for an instant; his nerves seemed entirely demoralized, his -muscles beyond control. He would stand before the doctors and twitch -and spasmodically shuffle his feet for hours, while the doctors, those -on the prison staff and those from outside, held consultations. -Opinions differed widely. Some said that the Kid was malingering, others -that his spine was really affected. Day after day the doctors examined -him; they tested the accommodation of the pupils of the eyes, they had -him walk blindfolded, they tested his extremities with heat and cold, -with needles, and with electricity. Then they seated him, had him cross -his legs and struck him below the knee-cap, testing his reflex action. -Strangely enough, his reflexes were defective. - -"Bum gimp, eh, Doc?" he would say mournfully. - -For a while, after the Kid had gone, Archie found it easier to -accomplish his daily task, for the reason that the inspector did not -throw out so many defective bolts. But McGlynn, the guard on Archie's -contract, disliked him and was ever ready to report him, and Archie, -while he did not at all realize it and could not analyze it, developed -the feeling within him that the system which the people, and the -legislature, and the committee on penal and reformatory institutions, -and the state board of charities had devised and were so proud of, was -not a system at all, for the simple reason that it depended solely on -men and had nothing else to depend on. And just as the judge, the -jury-men, the prosecutor and the policemen were swayed by a thousand -whims and prejudices and moved by countless influences of which they -were unconscious, so the guards who held power over him were similarly -swayed. For each demerit he lost standing, and demerits depended not on -his conduct, but on the feelings of the guards. McGlynn disliked Archie -because he was German. He gave him demerits for all sorts of things, -and it was not long before Archie realized that he had already lost all -his good time and would have to serve out the whole year. And then the -inspector grew reckless and bold. McBride was greedy for profits, and -in a few weeks the bolts under Archie's machine were again disappearing -as rapidly as ever, and his task was wholly beyond him. And then a -dull, sullen stubbornness seized him, and one morning, in a fit of black -rage, seeing the inspector throw out a dozen perfect bolts, he stopped -work. The inspector looked up, then signaled the guard. McGlynn came. - -"Get to work, you!" he said in a rage. - -Archie looked at him sullenly. - -"You hear?" yelled McGlynn, raising his voice above the din of the -machines. - -Archie did not move. - -McGlynn took a step toward him, but when he saw the look in Archie's -eyes, he paused. - -"Stand out, you toaster," he said. - - -The next morning at seven o'clock Archie stood, with forty other -convicts who had broken rules or were accused of breaking rules, in the -prison court. This court was held every morning in the basement of the -chapel to try infractions of the prison discipline. This basement of -the chapel was known about the penitentiary as "the cellar," and as the -word was spoken it took on indeed a dark and sinister, one might almost -say a subterranean significance. For in the cellar were the solitary, -the bull rings, the ducking tub, the paddle,--all the instruments of -torture. And in the cellar, too, was the court. Externally, it might -have reminded Archie somewhat of the police court at home, as it -reminded other convicts of other police courts. It was a small room -made of wooden partitions, and in it, behind a rail, was a platform for -the deputy warden. It may have reminded the convicts, too, of other -courts in its pitiable line of accused, in its still more pitiable line -of accusers. For there were guards grinning in petty triumph, awaiting -the revenge they could vicariously and safely enjoy for the infractions -which never could seem to their primitive, brutal minds other than -personal slights and affronts. - -This strange and amazing court, based on no law and owning no law, this -court from which there was no appeal, whose judgments could not be -reviewed, this court which could not err, was presided over by Deputy -Warden Ball. He lay now loosely in his chair behind the railing, his -long legs stretched before him, the soles of his big shoes protruding, -his long arms hanging by his sides, rolling a cigar round and round -between his long teeth blackened by nicotine. He lay there as if he had -fallen apart, as if the various pieces of him, his feet and legs, his -arms and hands, would have to be assembled before he could move again. -But this impression of incoherence was wholly denied by his face. The -lines about his mouth were those of a permanent smile that never knew -humor; the eyes at the top of his long nose were small and glistened -coldly, piercing through the broken, dry skin of his cheeks and eyelids -like the points of daggers through leather scabbards. Such was the -deputy warden, the real executive of the prison, the judge who could -pronounce any sentence he might desire, decreeing medieval tortures and -slow deaths, dooming bodies to pain, and the remnants of souls to hell, -and, when he willed, inventing new tortures. Ball was at once the -product and the unconscious victim of the system in which he was the -most invaluable and indispensable factor. He had been deputy in the -prison for twenty years, and he stood far above the mutations of -politics. He might have been said to live in the protection of a civil -service law of his own enactment. He ruled, indeed, by laws that were -of his own enactment, and he enacted or repealed them as occasion or his -mood suggested. He ruled this prison, whether on the bench in the court -or scuffing loose-jointedly about the yard, the shops, or the -cell-houses, with his cane dangling from the crotch of his elbow, -speaking in a low, soft, almost caressing voice, the secret, perhaps, of -his power. For his slow and passive demeanor and his slow, soft voice -seemed to visiting boards, committees and officials all kindness; and he -used it with the convicts, sometimes drawing them close to him, and -laying his great hand on their shoulders or their heads, and speaking in -a low tone of pained surprise and gentle reproach, just as he was -speaking now to a white-haired and aged burglar, wearing the dirty -stripes of the fourth grade. - -"Why, Dan, what's this I hear? I didn't think it of you, old chap, no I -didn't. A little of the solitary, eh? What say? All right--if it must -be." - -It took Ball half an hour to doom the men this morning, and even at the -last, when Archie went forward, when Ball had glanced at the card -whereon McGlynn's report was written in his illiterate hand, he said: - -"Ah, the Dutchman! Well, Archie, this is very bad. Down to the fourth -grade, bread and water to-day,--and to-morrow back to work, my lad. -Mind now!" - -Archie changed his gray suit for the reddish brown and white stripes, he -ate his bread and drank his water, and he went back to the bolt-shop. -But he did not work. He would not answer McGlynn when he spoke to him. -He set his jaw and was silent. - -"What, again!" said Ball the next day. "Well, well, well! If you -insist; give him the paddle, Jim." - -When court had adjourned, they took Archie into a small room near by. -Across one end of this room was a huge bath-tub of wood; this, and all -the utensils of torture, which in a kind of fiendish ingenuity of -economy were concentrated in it, were water-worn and white. On the -floor at the base of the tub were iron stocks. In these, when he had -been stripped naked, perhaps for additional shame, Archie's ankles were -clamped. Then he was forced to bend forward, over the bath-tub, and was -held there by guards while Ball stood by smoking. A burly negro, Jim, a -convict with privileges--this privilege among others--beat him on the -bare skin with a paddle of ashwood that had been soaked in hot water and -dipped in white sand. - -But Archie would not work. - -The next morning Ball patted him on the head, and said: - -"My dear boy! You are certainly foolish. He wants the water, Jim." - -Again they stripped him and forced him into the bath-tub. This tub had -many and various devices, among them a block of wood, hollowed out on -one side to fit a man's chest if he sat in the tub, and as it could be -moved back and forth in grooves along the top of the tub and fastened -wherever need be, it could be made to fit any man and hold him in its -vise against the end of the tub, in which quality of adjusting itself to -the size of its victim it differed from the bed of Procrustes. And now -they handcuffed Archie, fastened him in the tub, pressed the block -against his broad, white, muscular chest, and while Ball and the guards -stood by, the negro with the privileges, arrayed now in rubber coat and -boots, turned a fierce slender stream of water from a short rubber hose -in Archie's face. Archie gasped, his mouth opened, and deftly the negro -turned the fierce gushing stream into his mouth, where it hissed and -foamed and gurgled, filling his throat and lungs, streaming down over -his chin and breast. Archie's lips turned blue; soon his face was blue. - -"I guess that'll do, Jim," said Ball. - -When Archie regained consciousness they sent him back to the bolt-shop. - -But he would not work. - -The next morning Ball showed again that tenderness that appealed so -strongly to the humane gentlemen on the Prison Board. - -"Why, Archie!" he said. "Why, Archie!" Then he paused, rolled his -cigar about and said: "String him up, boys, until he's ready to go back -to work." - -After the guards had fastened his hands above his head in the bull -rings, closed and locked the door of the cell and left him, Archie's -first thought was of Curly, who had gone through this same ordeal in -another prison, and Archie found a compensation in thinking that he -would have an experience to match Curly's when next they met and sat -around the fire in the sand-house or the fire in the edge of the woods. -And then his thoughts ran back to the day when Curly had first told him -of the bull rings; and he could see Curly as he told it--his eyes -glazing, his face growing gray and ugly, his teeth clenching. - -Archie remembered more; somehow, vividly, he saw Curly tying a rope to -the running board on top of the freight-car, dangling it over the side -and then letting himself down on it until he hung before the car door, -the seal of which he quickly broke and unlocked; and the train running -thirty miles an hour! No one else could "bust tags" this way; no one -else had the nerve of Curly. - -At first Archie found relief in changing his position. By raising -himself on tiptoe he could ease the strain on his wrists; by hanging his -weight from his wrists he could ease the strain on his feet. He did -this many times; but he found no rest in either position. The handcuffs -grew tight; they cut into his wrists like knives. His hands were -beginning to go to sleep; they tingled, the darting needles stung and -pricked and danced about. Then his hands seemed to have enlarged to a -preposterous size, and they were icy cold. Presently he was filled with -terror; he lost all sense of feeling in his arms. Rubbing his head -against them, he found them cold; they were no longer his arms, but the -arms of some one else. They felt like the arms of a corpse. An awful -terror laid hold of him. In his insteps there was a mighty pain; his -biceps ached; his neck ached, ached, ached to the bones of it; his back -was breaking. The pain spread through his whole body, maddening him. -With a great effort he tore and tugged and writhed, lifting one foot, -then the other, then stamped. At last he hung there numb, limp, inert. -In the cell it was dark and still. No sound could reach him from the -outer world. - -Some time--it was evening, presumably, for time was not in that -cell--they came and let him down. A guard gave him a cup of water. He -held forth his hand, groping after it; and he could not tell when his -hand touched it. The cup fell, jangled against his handcuffs; the water -was spilled, the tin cup rolled and rattled over the cement floor. And -Archie wept, wild with disappointment. The guard, who was merciful, -brought another cup and held it to Archie's lips, and he drank it -eagerly, the water bubbling at his lips as it had once, years ago, when -he was a baby and his mother held water to his lips to drink. - -Presently Ball came and stood looking at him through the little grated -wicket in the door. - -"Well, Archie, how goes it?" he said. "Had enough? Ready to go back to -work?" - -Archie looked at him a moment. His eyeballs, still protruding from the -effects of the ducking-tub, gleamed in the light of the guard lantern. -He looked at Ball, finally realized, and began to curse. At last he -managed to say: - -"I'll croak you for this." - -Ball laughed. - -"Well, good night, my lad," he said. - -Archie lay on a plank, the handcuffs still on him, all the night. In -the morning they hung him up again. - - -The next day, and the next, and the next,--for seven days,--Archie hung -in the bull rings. In the middle of the eighth day, after his head had -been rolling and lolling about on his shoulders between his cold, -swollen, naked arms, he suddenly became frantic, put forth a mighty -effort, lifted himself, and began to bite his hands and his wrists, -gnashing his teeth on the steel handcuffs, yammering like a maniac. - - -That evening, the evening of the eighth day, when the guard came and -flashed his lamp on him, Archie's body was hanging there, still, his -chin on his breast. Down his arms the blood was trickling from the -wounds he had made with his teeth. The guard set down his lantern, ran -down the corridor, returned presently with Ball, and Jeffries, the -doctor. - -They lowered his body. The doctor bent his head to the white breast and -listened. - -"Take him to the hospital," he said. "I guess he's had about all he can -stand." - -"God, he had nerve!" said Ball, looking at the body. "He wouldn't give -in." - -He shambled away, his head bent. He was perplexed. He had not failed -since--when was it?--since number 13993 had--died of heart failure, in -the hospital, five years before. - - - - - XXI - - -It was at Bradford Ford's that night of the wedding that Eades made his -proposal of marriage to Elizabeth Ward. It was June, court had -adjourned, his work was done, the time seemed to him auspicious; he had -thought it all out, arranged the details in his mind. The great country -house, open to the summer night, was thronged, the occasion, just as the -newspapers had predicted in their hackneyed phrase, was a brilliant one, -as befitted the marriage of Ford's youngest daughter, Hazel, to Mr. -Henry Wilmington Dodge, of Philadelphia. Eades moved about, greeting -his friends, smiling automatically, but his eyes were discreetly seeking -their one object. At last he had a glimpse of her, through smilax and -ribbons; it was during the ceremony; she was in white, and her lips were -drawn as she repressed the emotions weddings inspire in women. He -waited, in what patience he could, until the service was pronounced; -then he must take his place in the line that moved through the crowd -like a current through the sea; the bestowal of the felicitations took a -long time. Then the supper; Elizabeth was at the bride's table, and -still he must wait. He went up-stairs finally, and there he encountered -Ford alone in a room where, in some desolate sense of neglect, he had -retired to hide the sorrow he felt at this parting with his child, and -to combat the annoying feeling the wedding had thrust on him--the -feeling that he was growing old. Ford sat by an open window, gazing out -into the moonlight that lay on the river by which he had built his -colossal house. He was smoking, in the habit which neither age nor -sorrow could break. - -"Come in, come in," said Ford. "I'm glad to see you. I want some one -to talk to. Have a cigar." - -But Eades declined, and Ford glanced at him in the suspicion which was -part of the bereaved and jealous feeling that was poisoning this evening -of happiness for him. He knew that Eades smoked, and he wondered why he -now refused. "He declines because I'm getting old; he wishes to shun my -society; he feels that if he accepts the cigar, he will have to stay -long enough to smoke it. It will be that way now. Yes, I'm getting -old. I'm out of it." So ran Ford's thoughts. - -Eades had gone to the window and stood looking out across the dark trees -to the river, swimming in the moonlight. Below him were the pretty -lights of Japanese lanterns, beyond, at the road, the two lamps on the -gate-posts. The odors of the June night came to him and, from below, -the laughter of the wedding-guests and the strains of an orchestra. - -"What a beautiful place you have here, Mr. Ford!" Eades exclaimed. - -"Well, it'll do for an old--for a man to spend his declining years." - -"Yes, indeed," mused Eades. - -Ford winced at this immediate acquiescence. - -"And what a night!" Eades went on, "Ideal for a wedding." - -Ford looked at him a moment, then decided to change the subject. - -"Well, I see you struck pay-dirt in the grand jury," he said. - -"Yes," replied Eades, turning away from night and nature when such -subjects were introduced. - -"You're doing a good work there," said Ford; "a good work for law and -order." - -He used the stereotyped phrase in the old belief that "law" and "order" -are synonyms, though he was not thinking of law or of order just then; -he was thinking of the radiant girl in the drawing-room below. - -Eades turned to the window again. The night attracted him. He did not -care to talk. He, too, was thinking of a girl in the drawing-room -below; thinking how she had looked in that moment during the ceremony -when he had had the glimpse of her. He must go at once and find her. -He succeeded presently in getting away from Ford, and left in a manner -that deepened Ford's conviction that he was out of it. - -He met her at the foot of the staircase, and they went out of doors. - -"Oh," exclaimed Elizabeth, "how delicious it is out here!" - -In silence they descended the wide steps from the veranda and went down -the walk. The sky was purple, the stars trembled in it, and the moon -filled all the heavens with a light that fell to the river, flowing -silently below them. They went on to the narrow strip of sward that -sloped to the water. On the dim farther shore they could see the light -in some farm-house; far down the river was the city, a blur of light. - -"What a beautiful place the Fords have here!" said Eades. - -"Yes," said Elizabeth, "it's ideal." - -"It's my ideal of a home," said Eades, and then after a silence he went -on. "I've been thinking a good deal of home lately." - -He glanced at the girl; she had become still almost to rigidity. - -"I am so glad our people are beginning to appreciate our beautiful -river," she said, and her voice had a peculiar note of haste and fear in -it. "I'm so glad. People travel to other lands and rave over scenery, -when they have this right at home." She waved her hand in a little -gesture to include the river and its dark shores. She realized that she -was speaking unnaturally, as she always did with him. The realization -irritated her. "The Country Club is just above us, isn't it?" she -hurriedly continued, consciously struggling to appear unconscious. -"Have you--" - -He interrupted her. "I've been thinking of you a good deal lately," he -said. His voice had mastery in it. "A good deal," he repeated, "for -more than a year now. But I've waited until I had something to offer -you, some achievement, however small, and now--I begin to feel that I -need help and--sympathy in the work that is laid on me. Elizabeth--" - -"Don't," she said, "please don't." She had turned from him now and -taken a step backward. - -"Just a minute, Elizabeth," he insisted. "I have waited to tell -you--that I love you, to ask you to be my wife. I have loved you a -long, long time. Don't deny me now--don't decide until you can think--I -can wait. Will you think it over? Will you consider it--carefully--will -you?" - -He tried to look into her face, which she had turned away. Her hands -were clasped before her, her fingers interlocked tightly. He heard her -sigh. Then with an effort she looked up at him. - -"No," she began, "I can not; I--" - -He stopped her. - -"Don't say no," he said. "You have not considered, I am sure. Won't -you at least think before deciding definitely?" - -She had found more than the usual difficulty there is in saying no to -anything, or to any one; now she had strength only to shake her head. - -"You must not decide hastily," he insisted. - -"We must go in." She turned back toward the house. - -"I can wait to know," Eades assured her. - -They retraced their steps silently. As they went up the walk she said: - -"Of course, I am not insensible of the honor, Mr. Eades." - -The phrase instantly seemed inadequate, even silly, to her. Why was it -she never could be at ease with him? - -"Don't decide, I beg," he said, "until you have considered the matter -carefully. Promise me." - -"You must leave me now," she said. - -He bowed and stood looking after her as she went up the steps and ran -across the veranda in her eagerness to lose herself in the throng within -the house. And Eades remained outside, walking under the trees. - -Half an hour later Elizabeth stood with Marriott in the drawing-room. -Her face was pale; the joy, the spirit that had been in it earlier in -the evening had gone from it. - -"Ah," said Marriott suddenly, "there goes John Eades. I hadn't seen him -before." - -Elizabeth glanced hurriedly at Eades and then curiously at Marriott. -His face wore the peculiar smile she had seen so often. Now it seemed -remote, to belong to other days, days that she had lost. - -"He's making a great name for himself just now," said Marriott. "He's -bound to win. He'll go to Congress, or be elected governor or -something, sure." - -She longed for his opinion and yet just then she felt it impossible to -ask it. - -"He's a--" - -"What?" She could not forbear to ask, but she put the question with a -little note of challenge that made Marriott turn his head. - -"One of those young civilians." - -"One of what young civilians?" - -"That Emerson writes about." - -"He's not so very young, is he?" Elizabeth tried to smile. - -"The young civilians are often very old; I have known them to be -octogenarians." - -He looked at her and was suddenly struck by her pallor and the drawn -expression about her eyes. She had met his gaze, and he realized -instantly that he had made some mistake. They were standing there in -the drawing-room, the canvas-covered floor was littered with -rose-leaves. It was the moment when the guests had begun to feel the -first traces of weariness, when the laughter had begun to lose its -spirit and the talk its spontaneity, when the older people were -beginning to say good night, leaving the younger behind to shower the -bride and groom with rice and confetti. Perplexed, excited, -self-conscious after Eades's declaration, feeling a little fear and some -secret pride, suddenly Elizabeth saw the old, good-humored, friendly -expression fade from Marriott's eyes, and there came a new look, one she -had never seen before, an expression of sudden, illuminative -intelligence, followed by a shade of pain and regret, perhaps a little -reproach. - -"Where does Emerson say--that?" she asked. - -"You look it up and see," he said presently. - -She looked at him steadily, though it was with a great effort, tried to -smile, and the smile made her utterly sick at heart. - -"I--must look up father," she said, "it's time--" - -She left him abruptly, and he stood there, the smile gone from his face, -his hands plunged deep in his pockets. A moment he bit his lips, then -he turned and dashed up the stairs. - -"I'm a fool," he said to himself. - -Elizabeth had thought of love, she had imagined its coming to her in -some poetic way, but this--somehow, this was not poetic. She recalled -distinctly every word Eades had spoken, but even more vividly she -recalled Marriott's glance. It meant that he thought she loved Eades! -It had all become irrevocable in a moment; she could not, of course, -undertake to explain; it was all ridiculous, too ridiculous for anything -but tears. - -Looking back on her intimacy with Marriott, she realized now that what -she would miss most was the good fellowship there had been between them. -With him, though without realizing it at the time, she had found -expression easy, her thoughts had been clear, she could find words for -them which he could understand and appreciate. Whenever she came across -anything in a book or in a poem or in a situation there was always the -satisfying sense that she could share it with Marriott; he would -apprehend instantly. There was no one else who could do this; with her -mother, with her father, with Dick, no such thing was possible; with -them she spoke a different language, lived in another world. And so it -was with her friends; she moved as an alien being in the conventional -circle of that existence to which she had been born. One by one, her -friends had ceased to be friends, they had begun to shrink away, not -consciously, perhaps, but certainly, into the limbo of mere -acquaintance. She thought of all this as she rode home that night, and -after she had got home; and when it all seemed clear, she shrank from -the clarity; she would not, after all, have it too clear; she must not -push to any conclusion all these thoughts about Gordon Marriott. She -chose to decide that he had been stupid, and his stupidity offended her; -it was not pleasant to have him sneer at a man who had just told her he -loved her, no matter who the man was, and she felt, with an -inconsistency that she clung to out of a sense of self-preservation, -that Marriott should have known this; he might have let her enjoy her -triumph for a little, and then--but this was dangerous; was he to -conclude that she loved him? - -What was it, she wondered, that made her weak and impotent in the -presence of Eades? She did not like to own a fear of him, yet she felt -a fear; would she some day succumb? The fear crept on her and -distressed her; she knew very well that he would pursue her, never waver -or give up or lose sight of his purpose. In some way he typified for -her all that was fixed, impersonal, irrefragable--society on its solid -rocks. He had no doubts about anything, his opinions were all made, -tested, tried and proved. Any uncertainty, any fluidity, any -inconsistency was impossible. And she felt more and more inadequate -herself; she felt that she had nothing to oppose to all this. - - - - - BOOK III - - - - I - - -Four miles from town, where a white pike crosses a mud road, is Lulu -Corners. There is little at this cross-roads to inspire a name less -frivolous, nothing indeed but a weather-beaten store, where the people -of the neighborhood wait for the big yellow trolley-cars that sweep -across the country hourly, sounding their musical air-whistles over the -fields. Half a mile from the Corners two unmarried sisters, Bridget and -Margaret Flanagan, for twenty years had lived alone in a hovel that was -invaded by pigs and chickens and geese. Together, these aged women, -tall, bony and masculine, lived their graceless, squalid lives, -untouched by romance or tragedy, working their few acres and selling -their pork, and eggs and feathers in the city. The nearest dwelling was -a quarter of a mile away, and the neighbors were still farther removed -by prejudices, religious and social. Thus the old women were left to -themselves. The report was that they were misers, and the miserable -manner of their lives supported rather than belied this theory; there -was a romantic impression in a country-side that knew so little romance, -that a large amount of money was hidden somewhere about the ugly -premises. - -On an evening in late October, Bridget Flanagan was getting supper. The -meal was meager, and when she had made it ready she placed a lamp on the -table and waited for Margaret, who had gone out to fasten the shanty in -which the barn-yard animals slept. Margaret came in presently, locked -the door, and the sisters sat down to their supper. They had just -crossed themselves and heaped their plates with potatoes, when they -heard a knock at the door. - -"Who can that be, sister?" said Bridget, looking up. - -"I wonder now!" said Margaret in a surprise that was almost an alarm. - -The knocking was repeated. - -"Mary help us!" said Bridget, again making the sign of the cross. "No -one ever came at this hour before." - -The knocking sounded again, louder, more insistent. - -"You go on to the door, sister," said Bridget, "and let them -in,--whoever they may be, I dunno." - -Margaret went to the door, shot back the bolt, and pulled on the knob. -And then she turned and cast a look of terror at her sister. Some one -was holding the door on the other side. The strange resistance of this -late and unknown visitor, who but a moment before had wanted to come in, -appalled her. She pressed her knee against the door, and tried to lock -it again. But now the door held against her; she strained and pushed, -then turned and beckoned her sister with frightened eyes. Bridget came, -and the two women, throwing their weight against the door, tried to -close it; but the unknown, silent and determined one was holding it on -the other side. This strange conflict continued. Presently the two old -women glanced up; in the crack, between the door and the jamb, they saw -a club. Slowly, slowly, it made way against them, twisting, turning, -pushing, forcing its way into the room. They looked in awful -fascination. The club grew, presently a foot of it was in the room; -then a hand appeared, a man's hand, gripping the club. They watched; -presently a wrist with a leather strap around it; then slowly and by -degrees, a forearm, bare, enormous, hard as the club, corded with heavy -muscles and covered with a thick fell of black hair, came after it. Then -there was a final push, an oath, the door flew open, and two masked men -burst into the room. - - -Three hours later, Perkins, a farmer who lived a quarter of a mile away, -hearing an unusual sound in his front yard, took a lantern and went out. -In the grass heavy with dew, just inside his gate, he saw a woman's -body, and going to it, he shed the rays of his lantern into the face of -Bridget Flanagan. Her gray hair was matted, and her face was stained -with blood; her clothes were torn and covered with the mud through which -she had dragged herself along the roadside from her home. Perkins -called and his wife came to the door, holding a lamp above her head, -shading her eyes with her hand, afraid to go out. When he had borne -Bridget indoors, Perkins took his two sons, his lantern and his -shot-gun, and went across the fields to the Flanagans'. In the kitchen, -bound and gagged, Margaret lay quite dead, her head beaten in by a club. -The two old women must have fought desperately for their lives. The -robbers, for all their work, as Perkins learned when Bridget almost -miraculously recovered, had secured twenty-three silver dollars, which -the sisters had kept hidden in a tin can--the fatal fortune which rumor -had swelled to such a size. - -Perkins roused the neighborhood, and all night long men were riding to -and fro between Lulu Corners and the city. A calm Sunday morning -followed, and then came the coroner, the reporters and the crowds. -While the bell of the little Methodist church a mile away on the Gilboa -Pike was ringing, Mark Bentley, the sheriff, dashed up behind a team of -lean horses, sweating and splashed with mud from their mad gallop. -Behind him came his deputies and the special deputies he had sworn in, -and, sitting in his buggy, holding his whip in a gloved hand, waving and -flourishing it like a baton, Bentley divided into posses the farmers who -had gathered with shot-guns, rifles, pitchforks, axes, clubs, anything, -placed a deputy at the head of each posse and sent them forth. -Detectives and policemen came, and all that Sunday mobs of angry men -were beating up the whole country for miles. Some were mounted, and -these flew down the roads, spreading the alarm, leaving women standing -horror-stricken in doorways with children whimpering in their skirts; -others went in buggies, others plodded on foot. And all day long crowds -of women and children pressed about the little house, peering into the -kitchen with morbid curiosity. The crowd swelled, then shrank, then -swelled again. The newspapers made the most of the tragedy, and under -head-lines of bold type, in black ink and in red, they told the story of -the crime with all the details the boyish imaginations of their -reporters could invent; they printed pictures of the shanty, and -diagrams of the kitchen, with crosses to indicate where Margaret had -fallen, where Bridget had been left for dead, where the table and the -stove had stood, where the door was; and by the time the world had begun -a new week, the whole city was in the same state of horror and fear, and -breathed the same rage and lust of vengeance that had fallen on Lulu -Corners. - - - - - II - - -Four days before the Sunday of the tragedy Archie Koerner finished his -year's imprisonment and passed from the prison within the walls to the -larger prison that awaited him in the world outside. The same day was -released another convict, a man aged at fifty, who had entered the -prison twenty years before. The judge who had sentenced him was a young -man, just elevated to the bench, and, intoxicated by the power that had -come to him so early in life, had read the words, "twenty years," in the -statute book, and, assuming as axiomatic that the words were the -atonement for the crime the man had committed, without thinking, had -pronounced these words aloud, and then written them in a large book. -From there a clerk copied them on to a blank form, sealed it with a gilt -seal, and, like the young judge, forgot the incident. The day the man -was released he could no longer remember what crime he had committed. -He was old and shattered, and had looked forward to freedom with terror. -Time and again he had asked his guard to report him, so that he might be -deprived of his good time and have the day of release postponed. The -guard, however, knowing that the man's mind was gone, had refused to do -this, and the man was forced out into the world. Having no family, no -friends and no home, he clung to Archie as to the last tie that bound -him to the only life he knew. Archie, of course, considered him an -incubus, but he pitied him, and when they had sold their railroad -tickets to a scalper, they beat their way back to the city on a -freight-train, Archie showing the old man how it was done. - -At eleven o'clock on Friday morning they entered Danny Gibbs's saloon. -Archie was glad to find the place unchanged--the same whisky barrels -along the wall, the opium pipe above the bar, the old gray cat sleeping -in the sun. All was familiar, save the bartender, who, in fresh white -jacket, leaned against the bar, a newspaper spread before him, and -studied the form sheets that were published daily to instruct men how to -gamble on the races. - -"Where's Dan?" asked Archie. - -The bartender looked at him superciliously, and then concluded to say: - -"He's not here." - -"Not down yet, heh?" said Archie. "Do you know a certain party -called--" Archie glanced about cautiously and leaned over the bar, -"--called Curly?" - -The bartender looked at him blankly. - -"He's a friend of mine--it's all right. If he comes in, just tell him a -certain party was asking for him. Tell Dan, too. I've just got -home--just done my bit." - -But even this distinction, all he had to show for his year in prison, -did not impress the bartender as Archie thought it should. He drew from -his waistcoat pocket a dollar bill, carefully smoothed it out, and -tossed it on to the bar. - -"Give us a little drink. Here, Dad," he said to the old convict, "have -one." The old man grinned and approached the bar. "Never mind him," -said Archie in a confidential undertone, "he's an old-timer." - -The old convict had lost the middle finger of his right hand in a -machine in the prison years before, and now, in his imbecility, he -claimed the one compensation imaginable; he used this mutilation for the -entertainment of his fellows. If any one looked at him, he would spread -the fingers of his right hand over his face, the stub of the middle -finger held against his nose, his first and third fingers drawing down -the lower lids of his eyes until their whites showed, and then wiggle -his thumb and little finger and look, now gravely, now with a grin, into -the eyes of the observer. The old convict, across whose sodden brain -must have glimmered a vague notion that something was required of him, -was practising his one accomplishment, his silly gaze fixed on the -bartender. - -When the bartender saw this his face set in a kind of superstitious -terror. - -"Don't mind him," said Archie; "He's stir simple." - -The bartender, as he set out the whisky, was reassured, not so much by -the patronage as by Archie's explanation that he had just come from -prison. He had been at Danny Gibbs's long enough to know that a man is -not to be judged solely by his clothes, and Archie, as a man reduced to -the extremity of the garb the state supplied, might still be of -importance in their world. While they were drinking, another man -entered the saloon, a short, heavy man, and, standing across the room, -looked, not at Archie and Dad, but at their reflections in the mirror -behind the bar. Archie, recognizing a trick of detectives, turned -slightly away. The man went out. - -"Elbow, eh?" said Archie. - -"Yep," said the bartender. "Cunningham." - -"A new one on me. Kouka here yet?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"Flyin'?" - -"Yep." - -"Well," said Archie, "give 's another. I got a thirst in the big house -anyway--and these rum turns." He smiled an apology for his clothes. -They drank again; then Archie said: - -"Tell Dan I was here." - -"Who shall I say?" inquired the bartender. - -"Dutch." - -"Oh, yes! All right. He'll be down about one o'clock." - -"All right. Come on, Dad," said Archie, and he went out, towing his -battered hulk of humanity behind him. At the corner he saw Cunningham -with another man, whom he recognized as Quinn. When they met, as was -inevitable, Quinn smiled and said: - -"Hello, Archie! Back again?" - -"Yes," said Archie. He would have kept on, but Quinn laid a hand on his -arm. - -"Hold on a minute," he said. - -"What's the rap?" asked Archie. - -"Well, you'd better come down to the front office a minute." - -Cunningham had seized the old man, and the two were taken to the Central -Police Station. They were charged with being "suspicious persons," and -spent the night in prison. The next morning, when they were arraigned -before Bostwick, the old man surprised every one by pleading guilty, and -Bostwick sentenced him to the workhouse for thirty days. But Archie -demanded a jury and asked that word be sent to his attorney. - -"Your attorney!" sneered Bostwick, "and who's your attorney?" - -"Mr. Marriott," said Archie. - -The suggestion of a jury trial maddened Bostwick. He seemed, indeed, to -take it almost as a personal insult. He whispered with Quinn, and then -said: - -"I'll give you till evening to get out of town--you hear?" - -Archie, standing at attention in the old military way, said: - -"Yes, sir." - -"You've got to clear out; we don't want you around, you understand?" - -"I understand, sir." - -"All right," said Bostwick. - -After Archie had bidden good-by to the old convict, who was relieved to -get back to prison again, and after he had been photographed for the -rogues' gallery--for his confinement and his torture had made him thin -and so changed his appearance and his figure that his Bertillon -measurements were even more worthless than ever--he was turned out. - -Archie, thus officially ordered on, was afraid to go back to Gibbs's, -and when he went out of the Central Station that Saturday morning he -turned southward into the tenderloin. He thought it possible that he -might find Curly at some of the old haunts; at any rate, he might get -some word of him. - -The morning was brilliant, the autumnal sun lay hot and comforting on -his back, and there was a friendliness in the hazy mellow air that was -like a welcome to Archie, the first the world had had for him. Though -man had cast him out, nature still owned him, and a kind of joy filled -his breast. This feeling was intensified by the friendly, familiar -faces of the low, decrepit buildings. Two blocks away, he was glad to -see the old sign of Cliff Decker's saloon, with the name painted on the -window in crude blue letters, and, pictured above it, a preposterous -glass of beer foaming like the sea. More familiar than ever, was old -man Pepper, the one-eyed, sitting on the doorstep as if it were summer, -his lame leg flung aside, as it were, on the walk before him, his square -wrinkled face presenting a horrid aspect, with its red and empty socket -scarcely less sinister than the remaining eye that swept three quarters -of the world in its fierce glance. On another step two doors away, -before a house of indulgence frequented only by white men, sat a mulatto -girl, in a clean white muslin dress, her kinky hair revealing a wide -part from its careful combing. The girl was showing her perfect teeth -in her laugh and playing with a white poodle that had a great bow of -pink ribbon at its neck. Across the street was Wing Tu's chop-suey -joint, deserted thus early in the day, suggesting oriental calm and -serenity. - -On the other corner was Eva Clason's place, and thither Archie went. He -had some vague notion of finding Curly there, for it was Eva who, on -that morning, now more than a year ago, in some impotent, puny human -effort to stay the fate that had decreed him as the slayer of Benny -Moon, had tried to give Curly a refuge. - -The place wore its morning quiet. The young bartender, with a stupid, -pimpled face, was moping sleepily at the end of the bar; at Archie's -step, he looked up. The step was heard also in the "parlor" behind the -bar, revealing through chenille portières its cheap and gaudy rugs and -its coarse-grained oaken furniture, upholstered in plush of brilliant -reds and blues. One of the two girls who now appeared had yellow hair -and wore a skirt of solid pink gingham that came to her knees; her thin -legs wore open-work stockings, her feet bulged in high-heeled, much-worn -shoes. She wore a blouse of the same pink stuff, cut low, with a sailor -collar, baring her scrawny neck and the deep hollows behind her collar -bones. In her yellow fingers, with a slip of rice paper, she was -rolling a cigarette. The other girl, who wore a dress of the same -fashion, but of solid blue gingham, splotched here and there with -starch, was dark and buxom, and her low collar displayed the coarse skin -of full breasts and round, firm neck. The thin blonde came languidly, -pasting her cigarette with her tongue and lighting it; but the buxom -brunette came forward with a perfunctory smile of welcome. - -"Where's Miss Clason?" Archie asked. - -"She's gone out to Steve's," said the brunette. The thin girl sank into -a chair beside the portières and smoked her cigarette. The brunette, -divining that there was no significance in Archie's visit, and feeling a -temporary self-respect, dismissed her professional smile and became -simple, natural and human. - -"Did you want to see her?" she asked. - -"Yes, I'm looking for a certain party." - -"Who?" - -"Well, you know him, maybe--they call him Curly; Jackson's his name." - -The girl looked at Archie, exchanged glances with the bartender; and -then asked: - -"You a friend o' hisn?" - -"Yes, I just got home, and I must find him." - -"Oh," said the girl, wholly satisfied. She turned to the bartender. -"Was Mr. Jackson in to-day, Lew? He's around, in and out, you know. -Comes in to use the telephone now and then." - -Archie was relieved. - -"Tell him Dutch was in, will you?" he said. - -"Sure," replied the girl. - -"Maybe he's in at Hunt's," said the thin girl, speaking for the first -time. - -"I was going there," said Archie. - -"I can run in and ask for you," said the brunette, in the kindly -willingness of the helpless to help others. "Or, hold on,--maybe Teddy -would know." - -"Never mind," said Archie, "I'll go in to Hunt's myself." - -"I'll tell Mr. Jackson when he comes in," said the brunette, going to -the door with Archie. "Who did you say?"--she looked up into Archie's -face with her feminine curiosity all alive. - -"Dutch." - -"Dutch who?" - -"Oh, just Dutch," said Archie, smiling at her insistence. "He'll know." - -"Oh, hell!" said the girl, "what's your name?" - -Archie looked down into her brown eyes and smiled mockingly; then he -relented. - -"Well, it's Archie Koerner. Ever hear of me before?" - -The girl's black brows, which already met across her nose, thickened in -the effort to recall him. - -"You're no more wiser than you was; are you, little one?" said Archie, -and walked away. - -He had reserved Hunt's as a last resort, for there, in a saloon which -was a meeting place for yeggs, Hunt himself being an old yegg man who -had stolen enough to retire on, Archie was sure of a welcome and of a -refuge where he could hide from the police for a day, at least, or until -he could form some plan for the future. - -Hunt was not in, but Archie found King's wife, Bertha Shanteaux, in the -back room. She was a woman of thirty-five, very fleshy, and it seemed -that she must crush the low lounge on which she sat, her legs far apart, -the calico wrapper she wore for comfort stretching between her knees. -She was smoking a cigar, and she breathed heavily with asthma, and, when -she welcomed Archie, she spoke in a voice so hoarse and of so deep a -bass that she might well have been taken for a man in woman's attire. - -"Why, Dutch!" she said, taking her cigar from her lips in surprise. -"When did you get home?" - -"Yesterday morning," said Archie. "I landed in with an old con, went up -to Dan's--then I got pinched, and this morning Bostwick gave me the -run." - -"Who made the pinch?" - -"Quinn and some new gendy." - -"Suspicion?" - -"Yes." - -"Huh," said Bertha, beginning to pull at her cigar again. - -"Where's John?" - -"Oh, he went up town a while ago." - -"Is Curly here?" - -"Yes, he's around. Just got in the other day. What you goin' to do?" - -"Oh, I'm waiting to see Curly. I've got to get to work and see if I -can't make a dollar or two. I want to frame in with some good tribe." - -"Well, Curly hasn't been out for a while. He'll be glad to see you." - -"Is Gus with him?" - -"Oh, no. Gus got settled over in Illinois somewhere--didn't you hear? -The boys say he's in wrong. But wait! Curly'll show up after a while." - -"Well, I'm hipped, and I don't want to get you in trouble, Mrs. -Shanteaux, but if Kouka gets a flash at me, it's all off." - -"Oh, you plant here, my boy," she said in a motherly way, "till Curly -comes." - - -The tenderloin awoke earlier than usual that day, for it was Saturday, -and the farmers were in town. In the morning they would be busy in -Market Place, but by afternoon, their work done, their money in their -pockets, they would be free, and beginning at the cheap music halls, -they, especially the younger ones, would drift gradually down the line, -and by night they would be drinking and carousing in the dives. - -Children, pale and hollow-eyed, coming with pitchers and tin buckets to -get beer for their awaking elders, seemed to be the first heralds of the -day; then a thin woman, clutching her dirty calico wrapper to her -shrunken breast, and trying to hide a bruised, blue and swollen eye -behind a shawl, came shuffling into the saloon in unbuttoned shoes, and -hoarsely asked for some gin. A little later another woman came in to -borrow enough oil to fill the lamp she carried without its chimney, and -immediately after, a man, ragged, dirty, stepping in old worn shoes as -soft as moccasins, flung himself down in a chair and fell into a stupor, -his bloodless lips but a shade darker than his yellow face, his jaws set -in the rigidity of the opium smoker. Archie looked at him suspiciously -and shot a questioning glance at Bertha. - -"The long draw?" he said in a low tone, as she passed him to go to the -woman who had the lamp. - -"Umph huh," said Bertha. - -"I thought maybe he might be--" - -"No," she said readily. "He's right--he's been hanging around for a -month.--Some oil?" she was saying to the woman. "Certainly, my dear." -She took the lamp. - -"Where's your husband now?" she asked. - -"Oh, he's gone," the woman said simply. "When the coppers put the -Silver Moon Café"--she pronounced it "kafe"--"out of business and he -lost his job slinging beer, he dug out." - -Archie, beginning to fear the publicity of midday, had gone into the -back room again. Presently Bertha joined him. - -"Thought it was up to me to plant back here," he said, explaining his -withdrawal. "There might be an elbow." - -"Oh, no," said Bertha, in her hoarse voice, picking up the cigar she had -laid on a clock-shelf and resuming her smoking, "we're running under -protection now. That dope fiend in there showed up two months ago with -his woman. They had a room in at Eva's for a while, but they stunk up -the place so with their hops that she cleaned 'em out--she had to have -the room papered again, but she says you can still smell it. They left -about five hundred paper-back novels behind 'em. My God! they were -readers! Nothing but read and suck the bamboo all the time; they were -fiends both ways. One's 'bout as bad as the other, I guess." - -She smoked her cigar and ruminated on this excessive love of -romanticistic literature. - -"When Eva gave 'em the run," she went on later, "the coppers flopped the -moll--she got thirty-sixty, and Bostwick copped the pipe to give to a -friend, who wanted a ornament for his den. Since then her husband comes -in here now and then--and--why, hello there! Here's some one to see -you, Curly!" - -Archie sprang to his feet to greet Curly, who, checking the nervous -impulse that always bore him so energetically onward, suddenly halted in -the doorway. The low-crowned felt hat he wore shaded his eyes; he wore -it, as always, a little to one side; his curls, in the mortification -they had caused him since the mates of his school-days had teased him -about them, were cropped closely; his cheeks were pink from the razor, -and Archie, looking at him, felt an obscure envy of that air of Curly's -which always attracted. Curly looked a moment, and then, with a smile, -strode across the room and took Archie's hand. Archie was embarrassed, -and his face, white with the prison pallor, flushed--he thought of his -clothes, quite as degrading as the hideous stripes he had exchanged for -them, and of his hair, a yellow stubble, from the shaving that had been -part of his punishment. But the grip in which Curly held his hand while -he wrung his greeting into it, made him glad, and Bertha, going out of -the room, left them alone. The strangeness there is in all meetings -after absence wore away. Curly sat there, his hat tilted back from his -brow, leaned forward, and said: - -"Well, how are you, anyway? When did you land in?" - -"Yesterday morning." - -"Been out home yet?" - -Archie's eyes fell. - -"No," he said, his eyes fixed on the cigarette he had just rolled with -Curly's tobacco and paper. "I was pinched the minute I got here; Quinn -and some flatty--and I fed the crummers all last night in the boob. This -morning Bostwick give me orders." - -"Well, you can't stay here," said Curly. - -"No, I was waiting to see you. I've got to get to work. Got anything -now?" - -"Well, Ted and me have a couple of marks--a jug and a p. o." - -"Where?" - -"Oh, out in the jungle--several of the tribes have filled it out." - -"Well, I'm ready." - -"Not now," Curly said, shaking his head; "the old stool-pigeon's -out--she's a mile high these nights." - -A reminiscent smile passed lightly over Curly's face, and he flecked the -ash from his cigarette. - -"Phillie Dave's out,"--and then he remembered that Archie had never -known the thief who had been proselyted by the police and been one of a -numerous company of such men to turn detective, and so had bequeathed -his name as a synonym for the moon. "But you never knew him, did you?" - -"Who?" - -"Dave--Phillie Dave we call him; he really belonged to the cat--he's -become a copper. He was before your time." - -They chatted a little while, and as the noise in the bar-room increased, -Curly said: - -"You can't hang out here. Those hoosiers are likely to start something -any minute--we'll have to lam." - -"Where to?" - -"We'll go over to old Sam Gray's." - -They did not show themselves in the bar-room again. Some young smart -Alecks from the country were there, flushed with beer and showing off. -Curly and Archie left by a side door, walked hurriedly to the canal, -dodged along its edges to the river, then along the wharves to the long -bridge up stream, and over to the west side, and at four o'clock, after -a wide detour through quiet streets, they gained Sam Gray's at last. - -Sam Gray kept a quiet saloon, with a few rooms upstairs for lodgers. -Gray was a member of a family noted in the under world; his brothers -kept similar places in other cities. His wife was a Rawson, a famous -family of thieves, at the head of which was old Scott Rawson, who owned -a farm and was then in hiding somewhere with an enormous reward hanging -over his head. Gray's wife was a sister of Rawson; and the sister, too, -of Nan Rawson, whom Snuffer Wilson had in mind when, on the scaffold, he -said, "Tell Nan good-by for me." And in these saloons, kept by the -Rawsons and the Grays, and at the Rawson farm, thieves in good standing -were always welcome; many a hunted man had found refuge there; the -Rawsons would have care of him, and nurse him back to health of the -wounds inflicted by official bullets. - -When Curly and Archie entered, a man of sixty years with thick white -hair above a wide white brow, in shirt-sleeves, his waistcoat -unbuttoned, and his trousers girded tightly into the fat at his waist, -came out, treading softly in slippers. - -"A friend of mine, Mr. Gray," said Curly. "He's right. He's just done -his bit; got home last night, and the bulls pinched him. He's got -orders and I'm going to take him out with me. But we can't go -yet--Phillie Dave's out." - -The old man smiled vaguely at the mention of the old thief. - -"All right," he said, taking Archie's hand. - -Archie felt a glow of pride when Curly mentioned his having done his -bit; he was already conscious, now that he had a record, of improved -standing. - -"Who's back there?" asked Curly, jerking his head toward a partition -from behind which voices came. - -"A couple of the girls," said old Sam. "You know 'em, I guess." - -The two women who sat at a table in the rear room looked up hastily when -the men appeared. - -"Hello, Curly," they said, in surprise and relief. - -They had passed thirty, were well dressed in street gowns, wore gloves, -and carried small shopping-bags. They had put their veils up over their -hats. Archie, thinking of his appearance, was more self-conscious than -ever, and his embarrassment did not diminish when one of the women, -after Curly had told them something of their plans, looked at the black -mark rubbed into Archie's neck by the prison clothes and said: - -"You can't do nothin' in them stir clothes." Before he could reply, she -got up impulsively. - -"Just wait here," she said. She was gone an hour. When she returned, -her cheeks were flushed, and with a smile she walked into the room with -a peculiar mincing gait that might have passed as some mode of fashion, -went to a corner, shook herself, and then, stepping aside, picked from -the floor a suit of clothes she had stolen in a store across the bridge -and carried in her skirts all the way back. Curly laughed, and the -other woman laughed, and they praised her, and then she said to Archie: - -"Here, kid, these'll do. I don't know as they'll fit, but you can have -'em altered. They'll beat them stir rags, anyhow." - -Archie tried to thank her, but she laughed his platitudes aside and -said: - -"Come on, Sadie, we must get to work." - -When they were away Archie looked at Curly in surprise. There were -things, evidently, he had not yet learned. - -"The best lifter in the business," Curly said, but he added a -qualification that expressed a tardy loyalty, "except Jane." - -Archie found he could wear the clothes, and he felt better when he had -them on. - -"If I only had a rod now," he remarked. "I'll have to go out and boost -one, I guess." - -"You can't show for a day," said Curly. - -"I wish I had that gat of mine. I wouldn't mind doing time if I had -that to show for it!" - -"I told you that gat would get you in trouble," said Curly, and then he -added peremptorily: "You'll stay here till to-morrow night; then you'll -go home and see your mother. Then you'll go to work." - -They remained at Gray's all that Saturday night and all the following -day, spending the Sunday in reading such meager account of the murder of -the Flanagan sisters as the morning papers were able to get into extra -editions. - - - - - III - - -Sergeant Cragin, a short, red-haired Irishman with a snub nose that with -difficulty kept his steel-bowed spectacles before his small, rheumy -eyes, had just finished calling the roll of the night detail at the -Central Police Station when the superintendent of police, Michael -Cleary, unexpectedly appeared in the great drill hall. Cleary stood in -the doorway with Inspector McFee; his cap was drawn to his eyebrows, -revealing but a patch of his close-cut white hair; his cheeks were red -and freshly shaven, his small chin-whiskers newly trimmed. The velvet -collar and cuffs of his blue coat, as usual, were carefully brushed, the -diamonds on his big gold badge flashed in the dim, shifting light. The -men did not often see their chief; he appeared at the station but -seldom, spending most of his time, presumably, in his office at the City -Hall. - -"Men," he said, "I want a word with you--about this Flanagan job. We've -got to get the murderers. They're somewhere in town right now. I want -you to keep a lookout; run in every suspicious character you see -to-night--no matter who he is--run him in. See what I mean? We're -going to have a cleaning up. I want you to pull every place that's open -after hours. I want you to pinch every crook and gun in town. See what -I mean? I won't stand for any nonsense! You fellows have been loafing -around now long enough; by God, if something isn't done before morning, -some of you'll lose your stars. You've heard me. You've got your -orders; now execute them. See what I mean?" - -This proceeding was what Cleary called maintaining discipline on the -force, and, in delivering his harangue, he had worked himself into a -rage; his face was red, his cheeks puffed out. The line of policemen -shifted and shuffled; the red faces became still redder, deepening at -last to an angry blue. - -Cleary, with their anger and resentment following him, left the drill -room, descended the stairs, and burst into the detective bureau. The -room, like all the rooms in the old building, was large, the ceiling -high, and in the shutters of the tall arched windows the dust of years -had settled; on the yellow walls were wire racks, in which were thrust -photographs of criminals, each card showing a full face, a profile, and -a number; there was little else, save some posters offering rewards for -fugitives. - -The detectives who had been on duty all the day were preparing to leave; -those who were to be on duty that night were there; it was the hour when -the day force and the night force gathered for a moment, but this -evening the usual good nature, the rude joking and badinage were -missing; the men were morose and taciturn; in one corner Kouka and Quinn -were quarreling. When Cleary halted in the door, as if with some -difficulty he had brought himself to a stop, the detectives glanced up. - -"Well," Cleary exploded, "that Flanagan job is twenty-four hours old, -and you fly cops haven't turned anything up yet. I want you to turn up -something. See what I mean? I want you to get busy, damn you, and get -busy right away. See what I mean?" - -"But, Chief," one of the men began. - -Cleary looked at him with an expression of unutterable scorn. - -"G-e-t r-i-g-h-t!" he said, drawling out the words in the lowest -register of his harsh bass voice. "Get right! See what I mean? Come -to cases, you fellows; I want a show-down. You make some arrests before -morning or some of you'll quit flyin' and go back to wearin' the -clothes. See what I mean?" - -He stood glowering a moment, then repeated all he had said, cursed them -all again, and left the room, swearing to himself. - -Down-stairs, in the front office, the reporters were waiting. Cleary -stopped when he saw them, took off his cap, and wiped his forehead with -a large silk handkerchief. - -"Do you care to give out anything, Chief, about the Flanagan job?" asked -one of the reporters timidly. - -"No," said Cleary bluntly. - -"Have you any clue?" - -Cleary thought a moment. - -"We'll have the men to-morrow." - -The reporters stepped eagerly forward. - -"Any details, Chief?" - -"I'd be likely to give 'em to you fellows to print, wouldn't I?" said -Cleary sarcastically. - -"But--" - -"You heard what I said, didn't you? We'll have the men to-morrow. Roll -that up in your cigarette and smoke it. See what I mean?" - -"Do you care to comment on what the _Post_ said this evening?" asked a -representative of that paper. - -"What the hell do I care what your dirty, blackmailing sheet says? What -the hell do I care?" - -Cleary left then, and a moment later they heard his heavy voice through -the open window, swearing at the horse as he drove away in his light -official wagon. - -In truth, the police were wholly at sea. All day the newspapers had -been issuing extras giving new details, or repeating old details of the -crime. The hatred that had been loosened in the cottage of the Flanagan -sisters had, as it were, poured in black streams into the whole people, -and the newspapers had gathered up this stream, confined it, and then, -with demands for vengeance, poured it out again on the head of the -superintendent of police, and he, in turn, maddened and tortured by -criticism, had poured out this hatred on the men who were beneath him; -and now, at nightfall, they were going out into the dark city, maddened -and tormented themselves, ready to pour it on to any one they might -encounter. And it was this same hatred that had sickened the breasts of -Kouka and Quinn so that, after a friendship of years, they had -quarreled, and were quarreling even now up-stairs in the detectives' -office. - -When he heard of the crime, Kouka realized that if he could discover the -murderers of Margaret Flanagan he might come into a notoriety that would -be the making of him. And he had wondered how he might achieve this. -He had visited Lulu Corners, and all day his mind had been at work, -incessantly revolving the subject; he had recalled all the criminals he -knew, trying to imagine which of them might have done the deed, trying -to decide on which of them he might fasten the crime. For his mind -worked like the minds of most policemen--the problem was not necessarily -to discover who had committed the crime, but who might have committed -it, and this night, with the criticism of the newspapers, and with the -abuse of the superintendent, he felt himself more and more driven to the -necessity of doing something in order to show that the police were -active. And when he heard from Quinn that he had arrested Archie -Koerner on Friday, and that Bostwick had ordered him out of the city, he -instantly suspected that it was Archie who had murdered Margaret -Flanagan. Quinn had laughed at the notion, but this only served to -convince Kouka and make him stubborn. The problem then was to find -Archie. When Inspector McFee made his details for that night, all with -special reference to the Flanagan murder, Kouka asked for a special -detail, intimating that he had some clue which he wished to follow -alone, and McFee, who was at his wits' end, was willing enough to let -Kouka follow his own leading. - -The night detail tramped heavily down the dark halls and out into Market -Place; the detectives left the building and separated, stealing off in -different directions. An hour later, patrol wagons began to roll up to -the station; the tenderloin was in a turmoil; saloons, brothels and -dives were raided, the night was not half gone before the prison was -crowded with miserable men and women, charged with all sorts of crimes, -and, when no other charge could be imagined, with suspicion. - -Meanwhile, Archie and Curly were trudging through dark side-streets and -friendly alleys on their way to Archie's home; for Archie had determined -to see his father and his mother once more before he left the city. -Archie was armed with a revolver he had procured from Gray. - - - - - IV - - -Kouka visited the tenderloin and learned that Archie had not left town. -He learned, too, that he had a companion, and though he could follow the -trail no farther, he had decided to watch Archie's home in the chance -that the boy might visit it some time during the night. And now, for -two hours, in the patience that was part of his stupidity, he had lurked -in the black doorway of the grocery. Bolt Street was dark and still. -Overhead, low clouds were flying; and the old stool-pigeon, coming later -and later each night, as if bad habits were growing on it, had not yet -appeared. Now and then, hearing footsteps, Kouka would shrink into the -darkest corner of the doorway; the steps would sound louder and louder -on the wooden sidewalk, some one would pass, and the steps would -gradually fade from his hearing. All this had a curious effect on -Kouka's mind. In some doubt at first, the waiting, the watching with -one object in view, more and more convinced him that he was right, and -in time the idea that Archie was the murderer he sought became -definitely fixed. The little house across the street gradually, through -the slowly moving hours, took on an aspect that confirmed Kouka's -theory; it seemed to be waiting for Archie's coming as expectantly as -the detective. During the first hour of his vigil, a shaft of yellow -light had streamed out of the kitchen window into the side yard, and -Kouka watched this light intently. Finally, at nine o'clock, it was -suddenly drawn in, as it were, and the house became dark. After this, -the house seemed to enshroud itself with some mysterious tragic -apprehension; and Kouka waited, stolidly, patiently, possessed by his -theory. - -And then, it must have been after ten o'clock, Kouka, who had heard no -footsteps and no sound whatever, suddenly, across the street, saw two -figures. They stopped, opened the low gate, stepped on to the stoop and -knocked. Their summons was answered almost immediately; the door -opened, and, in the light that suddenly filled the door-frame, Kouka -recognized Archie Koerner; a woman, his mother, doubtless, stood just -inside; he heard her give a little cry, then Archie put out his arms and -bent toward her; then he went in, his companion following, and the door -was closed. In another moment the shaft of light shot out into the side -yard again. - -Kouka was exultant, happy; he experienced an intense satisfaction; -already he realized something of the distinction that would be his the -next morning, when the little world he knew would hail him as the man -who, all alone, had brought the murderers of that poor old Flanagan -woman to the vengeance of the people's law. - -And yet, he must be cautious; he knew what yeggs were; he knew how -readily they would shoot and how well, and he did not care to risk his -own body, and the chance of missing his prey besides, by engaging two -bad men alone. Bad men they were, to Kouka, and nothing else; they had -come suddenly to impersonate to him all the evil in the world, just as, -though unknown, they or some two men impersonated all evil to all the -people of the city and the county, whereas Kouka felt himself to be a -good man whose mission it was to crush this badness out of the world. He -must preserve himself, as must all good men, and he ran down the street, -opened a patrolmen's box, called up the precinct station, and gave the -alarm. Then he hurried back; the shaft of light was still streaming out -into the side yard, its rays, like some luminous vapor, flowing palpably -from the small window and slanting downward to be absorbed in the dark -earth. - -He heard the roll of wheels, the urge of straining horses; the patrol -wagon stopped at the corner; he heard the harness rattle and one of the -horses blow softly through its delicate fluttering nostrils; a moment -later, the squad of policemen came out of the gloom; three of the men -were in civilian attire, the other six were in uniform. - -Kouka received his little command with his big, heavy hand upraised for -silence. It was a fine moment for him; he felt the glow of authority; -he felt like an inspector; perhaps this night's work would make an -inspector of him; he had never had such an opportunity before. He must -evolve a plan, and he paused, scowled, as he felt a commander should -who, confronted by a crisis, was thinking. Presently he laid his plan -before them; it was profound, strategical. The officers in uniform were -to surround the house, but in a certain way; he explained this way. -Three of them were to go to the right and cover the ground from the -corner of the house to the shaft of light that streamed from the window, -the others were to extend themselves around the other way, coming as far -as the lighted window; then no one would be exposed. - -"You'll go with me," said Kouka to the plain-clothes men. He said it -darkly, with a sinister eye, implying that their work was to be heavy -and dangerous. - -"Don't shoot until I give the command." - -They went across the street, bending low, almost crouching, stealing as -softly as they could in their great heavy boots, gripping their -revolvers nervously, filled with fear. Inside the gate, they surrounded -the house. - -Kouka led the way, motioning the others behind him with his hand. He -stepped on to the low stoop, but stood at one side lest Archie shoot -through the door. He stood as a reconnoitering burglar stands at one -side of a window, out of range; cautiously he put forth his hand, -knocked, and hastily jerked his hand away ... He knocked twice, three -times ... After a while the door opened slowly, and Kouka saw Mrs. -Koerner standing within, holding a lamp. Kouka instantly pushed his -knee inside the door, and shouldered his way into the room. The three -officers followed, displaying their revolvers. - -"It's all off," said Kouka. "The house is surrounded. Where is he?" - -Mrs. Koerner did not speak; she could not. Her face was white, the lamp -shook in her hand; its yellow flame licked the rattling chimney, the -reek of the oil filled the room. Finally she got to the table and with -relief set the lamp down among the trinkets Archie had brought from the -Philippines. - -"Aw come, old woman!" said Kouka, seizing her by the arm fiercely. -"Come, don't give us any of the bull con. Where is he?" - -Kouka held to her arm; he shook her and swore. Mrs. Koerner swallowed, -managed to say something, but in German. And then instantly the four -officers, as if seized by some savage, irresistible impulse, began to -rummage and ransack the house. They tore about the little parlor, -entered the little bedroom that had been Gusta's; they looked -everywhere, in the most unlikely places, turning up mats, chairs, -pulling off the bed-clothes. Then they burst into the room behind. -Suddenly they halted and huddled in a group. - -There, in the center of the room, stood old man Koerner, clad in his red -flannel underclothes, in which he must have slept. He had an air of -having just got out of bed; his white hair was tumbled, and he leaned on -one crutch, as if one crutch were all that was necessary in dishabille. -Below the stump of his amputated leg the red flannel leg of his drawers -was tied into a knot. He presented a grotesque appearance, like some -aged fiend. Under the white bush of his eyebrows, under his touseled -white hair, his eyes gleamed fiercely. - -"Vat de hell ails you fellers?" - -"We want Archie," said Kouka, "and, by God, we're going to have him, -dead or alive." He used the words of the advertised reward. "Where is -he?" - -Kouka and the other officers glanced apprehensively about the room, as -if Archie and Curly might start out of some corner, or out of the floor, -but in the end their glances came always back to Koerner, standing there -in his red flannels, on one crutch and one leg, the red knot of the leg -of his drawers dangling between. - -"You vant Archie, huh?" asked Koerner. "Dot's it, aind't it--Archie--my -poy Archie?" - -"Yes, Archie, and we want him quick." - -"Vat you want mit him, huh?" - -"It's none of your business what we want with him," Kouka replied with -an oath. "Where is he? Hurry up!" - -"You bin a detective, huh? Dot's it, a detective?" - -"Yes." - -"You got some bapers for him?" - -"That's my business," said Kouka, advancing menacingly toward Koerner. -"You tell where he is or I'll run the whole family in. Here," he said -suddenly, a thought having occurred to him, "put 'em under arrest, both -of 'em!" - -The old man shuffled backward, leaned against the table for support and -raised his crutch for protection. - -"You better look oudt, Mis'er Detective," said Koerner. "You'd better -look oudt. Py Gott--" - -Kouka stopped, considered, then changed his mind. - -"Look here, Mr. Koerner," he said. "It's no use. We know Archie's here -and we want him." - -"He's not here," suddenly spoke Mrs. Koerner beside him. "He's not -here!" - -"The hell he ain't!" said Kouka. "I saw him come in--ten minutes ago. -Search the house, men." And the rummaging began again. - -The men were about to enter the little room where Koerner slept: it was -dark in there and one of them took the lamp. - -"Look oudt!" Koerner said suddenly. "Look oudt! You go in dere if you -vant to, but, py Gott, don't blame me if--" - -The men suddenly halted and stepped back. - -"Go on in!" commanded Kouka. "What do you want to stand there for? Are -you afraid?" - -Then they went, ransacked that room, threw everything into disorder and -came out. - -"No one there," they reported in relief. - -They searched the whole house over again, and old man Koerner stood by -on one leg and his crutch, with a strange, amused smile on his yellow -face. At last, Kouka, lifting his black visage, looked at the ceiling, -sought some way as if to an upper story, found none, and then began to -swear again, cursing the old man and his wife. Finally he said to the -officers: - -"He's been kidding us." - -Then he called his men, dashed out of the house, and with a dark lantern -began seeking signs in the back yard. Near the rear fence he discovered -footprints in the soft earth; they climbed over and found other -footprints in the mud of the alley. - -"Here they went!" cried Kouka. - - - - - V - - -Archie had stood for a moment in his mother's embrace; he had felt her -cheek against his; he had heard her voice again. He was forgetful of -everything--of Curly's presence, of all he had ever been made to suffer -by himself and by others. He knew that his mother's eyes were closed -and that tears were squeezing through the lids; he felt his own tears -coming, but it did not matter--in that moment he could cry without being -made ashamed. It was a supreme moment for him, a moment when all he had -been, all he had done, all he had not done, made no difference; no -questions now, no reproaches, no accusations, not even forgiveness, for -there was no need of forgiveness; a moment merely of love, an incredible -moment, working a miracle in which men would not believe, having lost -belief in Love. It was a moment that suffused his whole being with a -new, surging life, out of which-- - -But it was only a moment. Curly had turned away, effacing himself. -Presently he started, and cast about him that habitual backward glance; -he had heard a step. It was Koerner. The old man in his shirt-sleeves, -swinging heavily between his crutches, paused in the doorway, and then -seeing his boy, his face softened, and, balanced on his crutches, he -held out his arms and Archie strode toward him. - -Curly waited another moment like the first, taking the chances, almost -cynically wondering how far he could brave this fate. It was still in -the little room. The words were few. The moment brought memories to him -as well,--but he could endure it no longer; the risk was enormous -already; they were losing time. For, just as they had entered the house, -in that habitual glance over the shoulder, Curly had seen the figure in -the dark doorway across the street--and he knew. - -"Come on, Archie," he said. - -Archie turned in surprise. - -"It's all off," Curly said. "We're dogged." - -"Why?" - -"The bulls--" - -"Where?" - -"Across the street--an elbow." - -"Him?" - -"Yes." - -"The hell!" - -Curly glanced toward the back room. But Archie suddenly grew stubborn. - -"No," he said. "Let's stick and slug." - -"Don't be a chump," said Curly. - -"We're heeled." - -"Well, they'd settle you in a minute." - -"They can't. We can bust the bulls." - -"All right," said Curly. "Be the wise guy if you want to. I'll take it -on the lam for mine; they ain't going to bury me. Can I get out that -way?" - -He brushed past them in the doorway, and called from the kitchen: - -"Besides, you've got orders." - -Then Archie remembered; he looked at his mother, at his father, glanced -about the little room, barren in the poverty that had entered the home, -hesitated, then turned and left them standing there. As he passed -through the kitchen he heard little Katie and little Jake breathing in -their sleep, and the sound tore his heart. - -He was over the fence and in the alley just behind Curly. They ran for -a block, darted across a lighted street, then into the black alley -again. For several blocks they dashed along, getting on as fast as they -could. Then at length Archie, soft from his imprisonment, stopped in -the utter abandon of physical exhaustion and stood leaning against a -barn. - -"God!" he said, "I hain't going another step! I'm all in!" - -Curly had been leading the way in the tireless energy of the health his -out-of-door life gave him, but when Archie stopped, he paused and stood -attent, inclining his head and listening. - -The night, almost half gone, was still; sounds that in the daytime and -in the earlier evening had been lost in the roar of the city became -distinct, trolley-cars sweeping along some distant street, the long and -lonesome whistles of railroad engines, now and then the ringing of a -bell; close by, the nocturnal movements of animals in the barns that -staggered grotesquely along the alley. - -"It's all right," said Curly; "we've made a getaway." - -He relaxed and slouched over to where Archie stood. - -"Where are we, do you know?" he asked. - -Archie thought. "That must be Fifteenth Street down there. Yes, -there's the gas house." He pointed to a dark mass looming in the night. -"And the canal--and yes, Maynard's lumber-yard's right beyond." - -"How far from the spill?" - -"About three blocks." - -"Come on, we must get out on the main stem." - -They went on, but in the security they felt at not being followed, they -ran no more, but paced rapidly along, side by side. They had not had -the time nor the breath for talk, but now suddenly, Archie, in a tone -that paid tribute to Curly's powers, expressed the subliminal surprise -he had had. - -"How did you know the bulls was there?" - -"I piked off the elbow just as we went in." - -"I didn't see him," said Archie. "Where was he?" - -"Right across the street, planted in a doorway." - -"How do you suppose he'd spotted us?" - -"Oh, he was layin' for you, that's all. He had it all framed up. He -thought he'd job you and swell himself." - -"What do you think of that now!" - -They reached the yard where the black shadows cast by the tall leaning -piles of lumber welcomed them like friends, and through this they -passed, coming out at length on the railroad. They reconnoitered. The -sky of the October night was overcast by thin clouds which, gray at -first, turned bright silver as they flew beneath the risen moon. - -"The dog's out," said Curly, who had almost as many names for the moon -as a poet. - -Before them the rails gleamed and glinted; over the yards myriads of -switch-lights glowed red and green, sinister and confusing. Not far -away a switch-engine stood, leisurely working the pump of its air-brake, -emitting steamy sighs, as if it were snatching a moment's rest from its -labors. On the damp and heavy air the voices of the engineer and -fireman were borne to them. At times other switch-engines slid up and -down the tracks. Curly and Archie sat down in the shadow of the lumber -and waited. After a while, down the rails a white light swung in an -arc, the resting switch-engine moved and began to make up a -freight-train. - -"Now's our chance," said Curly. - -The switch-engine went to and fro and up and down, whistling now and -then, ringing its bell constantly, drawing cars back and forth -interminably, pulling strings of them here and there, adding to and -taking from its train, stopping finally for a few minutes while a heavy -passenger-train swept by, its sleeping-cars all dark, rolling heavily, -mysteriously, their solid wheels clicking delicately over the joints of -the rails. - -"I wish we were on that rattler," said Archie, with the longing a -departing train inspires, and more than the normal longing. Curly -laughed. - -"The John O'Brien's good enough for us," he said. - -The passenger-train, shrinking in size by swift perceptible degrees as -it lost itself in the darkness, soon was gone. The white lantern swung -again, and the switch-engine resumed its monotonous labors, confined to -the tedious limits of that yard, never allowed to go out into the larger -world. Gradually it worked the train it was patiently piecing together -over to the side of the yard where Archie and Curly waited. Then, at -last, watching their chance, they slipped out, found an open car, sprang -into it, slunk out of possible sight of conductor or switchman, and were -happy. - -The car was bumped and buffeted up and down the yard for an hour; but -Archie and Curly within were laughing at having thus eluded the -officers. They sat against the wall of the car, their knees to their -chins, talking under cover of the noise the cars made. After a while -the engine whistled and the train moved. - -When they awoke, the car was standing still and a gray light came -through the cracks of the door. - -"I wonder where we are," said Archie, rubbing his eyes. - -Curly got up, stretched, crept to the middle of the car and looked out. -Presently Archie heard him say: - -"By God!" - -He joined him. And there were the lumber piles. It was morning, the -city was awake, the grinding of its weary mills had begun. They were -just where they had been the night before. - -"Marooned!" said Curly, and he laughed. - -They decided, or Curly decided, that they must wait. Some of those -restless switch-engines would make up another train before long, and in -it they might leave the town, in which there was now no place of safety -for them. The morning was cold; the chill of the damp atmosphere -stiffened them. Just outside, in the lumber-yard, several men were -working, and the fugitives must not be seen by them, for they would be -as hostile as the whole world had suddenly become. They waited, but the -men did not leave. Their task seemed to be as endless as that of the -switch-engine. For a long while the railroad yards were strangely still. -Now and then Curly crept to the door and peeped out; the lumber-shovers -were not twenty feet away. The door on the opposite side of the car was -locked. Finally, they grew restless; they decided to go out anyhow. - -"Hell!" said Archie. "There's nothing to it. Let's mope." - -Something of Archie's recklessness and disregard of consequences -affected Curly. - -"Well, all right," he said; "come on." - -They went to the door of the car. And there, looking full in their -faces, was a switchman with a red, rough face and a stubble of reddish -beard. The switchman drew back with a curse to express his -astonishment, his surprise, the sudden fright that confused and angered -him. - -"Come out o' that, you hobos," he called, stepping back. The men in the -lumber-yard heard his sudden cry, stopped and looked up. The switchman -cursed and called again. - -Curly and Archie shrank into the darkness of the car. Archie had drawn -his revolver. - -"Put it up," said Curly, with the anger of his disappointment. - -They waited and listened; the switchman's voice was heard no more; he -must have gone away. - -"He'll blow us to the railroad coppers. Now's our only chance!" - -They went to the door, leaped out, bent their heads and ran. And -instantly, with the howl of the hunter, the men in the lumber-yard, not -knowing Archie or Curly or what they had done, or whether they had done -anything, left their work and ran after them, raising the old hue and -cry of English justice. Even the engines in the yards joined by -sounding sharp, angry blasts on their whistles, and behind the little -group that was rapidly becoming a mob, raced the switchman with two of -the railroad's detectives. - -As swiftly as they could, in their stiffness and their hunger and their -cold, Archie and Curly ran down the long yards, over cinders and uneven -ties. They ran for a quarter of a mile and the yard narrowed, the -tracks began to converge, to unite, marking the beginning of the main -line. On either side rose the clayey banks, ahead there was a narrow -cut with an elevated crossing; near this was a switchman's shanty. Just -then something sang over their heads, a musical humming sound. They -knew the sound a bullet makes and dodged into the switchman's shanty, -slammed the door behind them, locked it and, a moment later, were at bay -with the mob. The crowd surged up to the very door, flung itself -against the shanty. Then Curly called: - -"Stand back!" - -The cry of the crowd was given in a lower, angrier tone; again it hurled -itself against the door, and the little shanty, painted in the yellow -and white of the railroad, rocked. Another shot pierced the shanty, -splintering the boards above their heads. Then Archie stepped to the -little window, thrust out his revolver. There was an angry cry outside, -then stillness; the crowd gave way, withdrew, and kept its distance. - -"Don't push the rod!" Curly commanded. "What in hell ails you?" - -"Oh, sin not leery! I'll plug 'em for keeps!" - -Curly looked into Archie's white face. - -"Are the bulls tailing on?" he asked. - -"They're coming strong! Listen!" - -"We'd better cave!" urged Curly. - -"Like hell!" Archie replied. "They don't drop me without a muss now. -If you want to flunk--" - -Curly's face flamed and his little eyes pierced Archie. - -"Look out, young fellow!" he said, taking a sudden step toward him. -Archie looked at him with a sneer. Then Curly stopped. - -"Look here, Dutch," he said. "Don't be a fool. We're--" - -"I've told you what I'll do," said Archie, all the dogged stubbornness -of his nature aroused. Then Curly seemed to lose interest. Outside -they could hear the crowd again. - - -Half an hour passed. They heard the clang of a gong in the near-by -street. - -"The pie wagon," said Curly. - -Archie was quiet. There was a cheer, then a voice, deep, commanding and -official: - -"Surrender in the name of the law!" - -Curly looked a question at Archie. - -"What ails you to-day?" asked Archie. "Lost your nerve?" - -"I haven't lost my nut." - -"We'll give you three minutes," said the voice, "then if you don't come -out, holding up your hands, we'll fire." - -For what seemed a long time there was utter quiet, then bullets tore -through the pine boards of the little shanty and Archie sprang to the -window and fired. Curly was squatting on the floor. Archie fired again, -and again, and yet again. - -"I've only got one left," he said, turning from the window. - -"All right, then we'll cave." - -Curly got up, went to the door, flung it open and held up his hands. -The mob cheered. - -But Archie stayed. The officer called again, Curly called, the crowd -called; then the shooting began again. Presently Archie appeared in the -doorway and looked about with a white, defiant face. And there, before -him, a rod away, stood Kouka, revolver in hand. He saw Archie, his brow -wrinkled, and he smiled darkly. - -[Illustration: Archie looked about with a white, defiant face] - -"You might as well--" he began. - -Archie looked at him an instant, slowly raised his revolver above his -head, lowered it in deliberate aim, fired, and Kouka fell to his knees, -toppled forward with a groan and collapsed in a heap on the ground, -dead. - -The crowd was stricken still. Archie stood looking at Kouka, his eyes -burning, his face white, his smoking revolver lowered in his hand. A -smile came to his pale, tense lips. Then the crowd closed in on him; -the policemen, angry and ferocious, caught and pinioned him, began to -club him. The crowd pressed closer, growing savage, shaking fists at -him, trying to strike him. Suddenly some one began to call for a rope. - -Then the policemen, so eager a moment before to wreak their own -vengeance on him, were now concerned for his safety. A sergeant gave a -command; they dragged Archie toward the patrol wagon. The crowd surged -that way, and Archie, bareheaded, his yellow hair disordered, his eyes -flashing, his white brow stained with blood, stared about on the -policemen and on the crowd with a look of hatred. Then he glanced back -to where some men were bending over Kouka, and he smiled again. - -"Well, I croaked him all right," he said. - -A patrolman struck him with a club; and he staggered as the blow fell -with a sharp crash on his head. - -"Get on there!" said the sergeant, cursing him. He was thrown into the -patrol wagon beside Curly, and he sat there, white, with the blood -trickling in two streams from his forehead, his eyes flashing, and the -strange smile on his lips whenever he looked back where Kouka lay. The -patrol wagon dashed away. - - - - - VI - - -Marriott was sensible of a hostile atmosphere the moment he entered the -police station. The desk sergeant glanced at him with disapproval, kept -him waiting, finally consulted an inspector, blew savagely into a -speaking tube, and said: - -"Here's a young lawyer to see Koerner." - -The contemptuous description, the tone, the attitude, all expressed the -hatred the police had for Archie, a hatred that Marriott realized would -extend itself to him for taking sides with Archie. The turnkey, a thin -German with cheek-bones that seemed about to perforate his sallow skin, -a black mustache, and two black, glossy curls plastered on his low -forehead, likewise scowled and showed reluctance. - -"How many damned lawyers," he said, taking a corn-cob pipe from his -mouth, "is that feller going to have, anyway?" - -"Why," asked Marriott in a sudden hope that ignored the man's insolence, -"have there been others?" - -"Humph!" said the turnkey, jangling his heavy keys. "Only about a -dozen." - -"Well, I'll see him anyway." - -Marriott had waited thus for Archie and for other men who had done -crimes; but never for one who had killed a man. He felt a new, -unpleasant sensation, a nervous apprehension, just a faint sickness, and -then--Archie came. - -The boy stepped into the turnkey's room with a certain air of relief; he -straightened himself, stretched, and within the flannel undershirt that -showed his white, muscular neck to its base, his chest expanded as he -filled his lungs with the welcome air. He threw away his cigarette, -came forward and pressed Marriott's hand, strongly, with hearty -gratitude. - -The turnkey led them to a dingy room, and locked them in a closet used -as a consulting cabinet by those few prisoners who could secure lawyers. -The gloom was almost as thick as the dust in the closet. Marriott -thought of all the tragedies the black hole had known; and wondered if -Archie had any such thoughts. He could not see Archie's face clearly, -but it seemed to be clouded by too many realities to be conscious of the -romantic or the tragic side of things. It was essential to talk in low -tones, for they knew that the turnkey was listening through the thin, -wooden partition. Marriott waited for Archie to begin. - -"Well?" he said presently. - -"Got a match, Mr. Marriott?" Archie asked. - -Marriott drew out his silver match-box, and then looked at Archie's face -glowing red in the tiny flame of the light he made for his cigarette. -The action calmed and reassured Marriott Archie's face wore no unwonted -or tragic expression; if his experience had changed him, it had not as -yet set its mark on him. Marriott lighted a cigarette himself. - -"I was afraid you wouldn't come," said Archie, dropping to the floor the -match he economically shared with Marriott, and then solicitously -pressing out its little embers with his foot. - -"I got your message only this morning." - -"Humph!" sneered Archie. "That's the way of them coppers. I asked 'em -to 'phone you the morning they made the pinch." - -"Well, they didn't." - -"No, they've got it in for me, Mr. Marriott; they'll job me if they can. -I was worried and 'fraid I'd have to take some other lawyer." - -"They told me you had seen others." - -"Oh, some of them guys was here tryin' to tout out a case; you know the -kind. Frisby and Pennell, some of them dead ones. I s'pose they were -lookin' for a little notoriety." - -The unpleasant sensation Marriott felt at Archie's recognition of his -own notoriety was lost in the greater disgust that he had for the -lawyers who were so anxious to share that notoriety. He knew how Frisby -solicited such cases, how the poor and friendless prisoners eagerly -grasped at the hopes he could so shamelessly hold out to them, how their -friends and relatives mortgaged their homes, when they had them, or -their furniture, or their labor in the future, to pay the fees he -extorted. And he knew Pennell, the youth just out of law-school, who -had the gift of the gab, and was an incorrigible spouter, having had the -misfortune while in college to win a debate and to obtain a prize for -oratory. His boundless conceit and assurance made up for his utter lack -of knowledge of law, or of human nature, his utter lack of experience, -or of sympathy. He had no principles, either, but merely a determination -to get on in the world; he was ever for sale, and Marriott knew how his -charlatanism would win, how soon he would be among the successful of the -city. - -"I tell you, Archie," he was saying, "I can't consent to represent you -if either of these fellows is in the case." - -"Who? Them guys? Not much!" Archie puffed at his cigarette. "Not for -me. I'm up against the real thing this time." He gave a little -sardonic laugh. - -It was difficult to discuss the case to any purpose in that little -closet with its dirt and darkness, and the repressing knowledge that -some one was straining to hear what they would say. Marriott watched -the spark of Archie's cigarette glow and fade and glow and fade again. - -"We can't talk here," said Archie. "You pull off my hearing as soon as -possible, and get me out of here. When I get over to the pogey I'll -have a chance to turn around, and we can talk. Bring it on as soon's -you can, Mr. Marriott. Won't you? God! It's hell in that crum box, -and those drunks snoring and snorting and havin' the willies all night. -Can't you get it on to-morrow morning?" - -"Can we be ready by then?" - -"Oh, there's nothin' to it down here. We'll waive." - -"We'll see," said Marriott, with the professional dislike of permitting -clients to dictate how their desperate affairs should be managed. "You -see I don't know the circumstances of the affair yet. All I know is -what I've read in the papers." - -"Oh, well, to hell with them," said Archie. "Never mind what they say. -They're tryin' to stick me for that Flanagan job. You know, Mr. -Marriott, I didn't have nothin' to do with that, don't you?" - -Archie leaned forward in an appeal that was irresistible, convincing. - -"Yes, I know that." - -"All right, I want you to know that. I ain't that kind, you know. But -Kouka--well, I got him, but I had to, Mr. Marriott; I had to. You see -that, don't you? He agitated me to it; he agitated me to it." - -He repeated the word thus strangely employed a number of times, as if it -gave him relief and comfort. - -"Yes, sir, he agitated me to it. I had to; that's all. It was a case of -self-defense." - -Marriott was silent for a few moments. Then he asked: - -"Have you talked to the police?" - -Archie laughed. - -"They give me the third degree, but--there was nothin' doin'." - -Marriott was relieved to find that he did not have to face the usual -admission the police wring from their subjects, but Archie went on: - -"Of course, that don't make no difference. They can frame up a -confession all right." - -"They'd hardly do anything that desperate," said Marriott, though not -with the greatest assurance. - -"Well," said Archie, "I wouldn't put it past 'em." - -Marriott finished his cigarette in a reflective silence, dropped it to -the floor and imitated Archie in the care with which he extinguished it. -Then he sighed, straightened up and said: - -"Well, Archie, let's get down to business; tell me the particulars." - -And Archie narrated the events that led up to the tragedy. - -"I wanted to see the old people--and the kids--and Gus." He was silent -then, and Marriott did not break the silence. - -"Say, Mr. Marriott," the boy suddenly asked, "where is Gus?" - -"I don't know." - -"What's become of her? Do you know that?" - -"N-no--," said Marriott. He felt that Archie was eying him shrewdly. - -"You know," said Archie in the lowest tone, "I'm afraid, I've got a kind -of hunch--that she's--gone wrong." - -Marriott feared his own silence, but he could not speak. - -"Hell!" Archie exclaimed, in a tone that dismissed the question. "Well, -I wanted to go home, and I goes, Curly and me. Kouka followed; he -plants himself across the street, gets the harness bulls, and they goes -gunning. Curly, he sees him--Curly can see anything. We lammed. The -coppers misses us; and we gets on a freight-car. They cuts that car -out, and we stays in it all night. Damn it! Did you ever hear o' such -luck? Now did you, Mr. Marriott?" - -Marriott owned that he had not. - -"In the morning," Archie went on, "they lagged us and we ran--they began -to shoot, and--" - -He stopped. - -"Well," he said very quietly. "I had my rod, and barked at Kouka. I -got him." - -Marriott wished that he could see Archie's face. It was not so dim in -there as it had been, or so it seemed to Marriott, for his eyes had -accommodated themselves to the gloom, but he could not read Archie's -expression. He waited for him to go on. He was intensely interested -now in the human side of the question; the legal side might wait. He -longed to put a dozen questions to Archie, but he dared not; he felt -that he could not profane this soul that had erred and gone astray, by -prying out its secrets; he was conscious only of a great pity. He -thought he might ask Archie if he had shot, aimed, intentionally; he -wished to know just what had been in the boy's heart at that moment: -then he had a great fear that Archie might tell him. But Archie was -speaking again. - -"Say, Mr. Marriott," he said, "could you go out to my home and get me -some clothes? I want to make as good a front as I can when I go into -court." - -"Your clothes seem pretty good; they look new. They gave them to you, I -suppose, at the penitentiary?" - -Archie laughed. - -"I'd look like a jay in them stir clothes," he said. "These--well, these -ain't mine," he added simply. "But get me a shirt, if you can, and a -collar and--a tie--a blue one. And say, if you can, get word to the -folks--tell 'em not to worry. And if you can find Gus, tell her to come -down. You know." - -Marriott went out into the street, glad of the sunlight, the air, the -bustle of normal life. And yet, as he analyzed his sensations, he was -surprised to note that the whole affair had lacked the sense of tragedy -he had expected; it all seemed natural and commonplace enough. Archie -was the same boy he had known before. The murder was but an incident in -Archie's life, that was all, just as his own sins and follies and -mistakes were incidents that usually appeared to be necessary and -unavoidable--incidents he could always abundantly account for and -palliate and excuse and justify. Sometimes it seemed that even good -grew out of them. Sometimes! Yes, always, he felt, else were the -universe wrong. And after all--where was the difference between sins? -What made one greater than another? Wherein was the murder Archie had -done worse than the unkind word he, Gordon Marriott, had spoken that -morning? But Marriott put this phase of the question aside, and tried -to trace Archie's deed back to its first cause. As he did this, he -became fascinated with the speculation, and his heart beat fast as he -thought that if he could present the case to a jury in all its clarity -and truth--perhaps--perhaps-- - - - - - VII - - -Archie did not have his hearing the next morning. The newspapers said -"the State" was not ready, which meant that Allen, the prosecutor, and -the police were not ready. Quinn and Allen had conferences. They felt -it to be their duty to have Archie put to death if possible, and they -were undecided as to which case would the better insure this result. -Allen found legal difficulties; there was a question whether or not the -murder of Kouka had been murder in the first degree. Hence he wished to -have Bridget Flanagan identify Archie. - -Several days elapsed, and then one morning, Bentley, the sheriff, -brought Bridget Flanagan to the Central Police Station in a carriage. -Allen and Cleary and Quinn, with several officers and reporters, were -waiting to witness her confrontation of Archie. - -The old woman was dressed in black; she wore a black shawl and a black -bonnet, but these had faded independently of each other, so that each -was now of its own dingy shade. The dress had a brown cast, the shawl a -tone of green, the bonnet was dusty and graying, and the black veil that -was tightly bound about her brow, like the band of a nun, had been -empurpled in the process of decay. She leaned heavily on Bentley, -tottering in her weakness, now and then lifting her arms with a wild, -nervous gesture. Bentley's huge, disproportionate bulk moved -uncertainly beside her, lurching this way and that, as if he feared to -step on her feet or her ancient gown, finding it difficult, at arm's -length, to support and guide her. But at last he got her to a chair. -At the edge of the purplish veil bound across the hairless brows, a -strip of adhesive plaster showed. The old woman wearily closed the eyes -that had gazed on the horrors of the tragedy; her mouth moved in senile -spasms. Now and then she mumbled little prayers that sounded like -oaths; and raised to her lips the little ball into which she had wadded -her handkerchief. And she sat there, her palsied head shaking -disparaging negatives. The police, the detectives, the prosecutor, the -reporters looked on. They said nothing for a long time. - -Cleary, trying to speak with an exaggerated tenderness, finally said: - -"Miss Flanagan, we hate to trouble you, but we won't keep you long. We -think we have the man who killed your dear sister--we'd like to have you -see him--" - -The old woman started, tried to get up, sank back, made a strange noise -in her throat, pushed out her hands toward Cleary as if to repulse him -and his suggestion, then clasped her hands, wrung them, closed her eyes, -swayed to and fro in her chair and moaned, ejaculating the little -prayers that sounded like oaths. Cleary waited. Quinn brought a glass -of water. Presently the old woman grew calm again; after a while Cleary -renewed his suggestion. The old woman continued to moan. Cleary -whispered to two policemen and they left the room. The policemen were -gone what seemed a long time, but at last they appeared in the doorway, -and between them, looking expectantly about him, was Archie Koerner. -The policemen led him into the room, the group made way, they halted -before the old woman. Cleary advanced. - -"Miss Flanagan," he said very gently, standing beside her, and bending -assiduously, "Miss Flanagan, will you please take a look now, and tell -us--if you ever saw this man before, if he is the man who--" - -Wearily, slowly, the old woman raised her blue eyelids; and then she -shuddered, started, seemed to have a sudden access of strength, got to -her feet and cried out: - -"Oh, my poor sister! my poor sister! You kilt her! You kilt her!" - -Then she sank to her knees and collapsed on the floor. Bentley ran -across the room, brought a glass of water, and stood uncertainly, -awkwardly about, while the others bore the old woman to a couch, -stretched her out, threw up a window, began to fan her with newspapers, -with hats, anything. Some one took the water from the sheriff, pressed -the glass to the old woman's lips; it clicked against her teeth. - -Then Cleary, Quinn, Bentley, the policemen, the detectives, the -reporters, looked at one another and smiled, Cleary bent over the old -woman. - -"That's all, Miss Flanagan. You needn't worry any more. We're sorry we -had to trouble you, but the law, you know, and our duty--" - -He repeated the words "law" and "duty" several times. Meanwhile Archie -stood there, between the two policemen. He looked about him, at the men -in the room, at the old woman stretched on the lounge; finally his gaze -fastened on Cleary, and his lips slowly curled in a sneer, and his face -hardened into an expression of utter scorn. - -"Take him down!" shouted Cleary angrily. - -The reporters rushed out. An hour later the extras were on the streets, -announcing the complete and positive identification of Archie Koerner by -Bridget Flanagan. - -"The hardened prisoner," the reports said, "stood and sneered while the -old woman confronted him. The police have not known so desperate a -character in years." - - - - - VIII - - -Marriott had attended to all of Archie's commissions, save one--that of -telling Gusta to go to him. He had not done this because he did not know -where to find her. But Gusta went herself, just as she seemed to do -most things in life, because she could not help doing them, because -something impelled, forced her to do them,--some power that made sport -of her, using a dozen agencies, forces hereditary, economic, social, -moral, all sorts--driving her this way and that. She had read of the -murder, and then, with horror, of Archie's arrest. She did not know he -was out of prison until she heard that he was in prison again. She began -to calculate the time that had flowed by so swiftly, making such changes -in her life. Her first impulse was to go to him, but now she feared the -police. She recalled her former visits, that first Sunday at the -workhouse, on which she had thought herself so sad, whereas she had not -begun to learn what sorrow was. She recalled the day in the police -station a year before, and remembered the policeman who had held her arm -so suggestively. She read the newspapers eagerly, absorbed every -detail, her heart sinking lower than it had ever gone before. When she -read that Marriott was to defend Archie, she allowed herself to hope. -The next day she read an account of the identification of Archie by the -surviving Flanagan sister, and then, when hope was gone, she could -resist no longer the impulse to go to him. - -She paused again at the door of the sergeant's room, her heart beating -painfully with the fear that showed itself in little white spots on each -side of her nostrils; then the timid parleying with the officers, the -delay, the suspicion, the opposition, the reluctance, until an officer -in uniform took her in charge, led her down the iron stairway to the -basement, and had the turnkey open the prison doors. Archie came to the -bars, and peered purblindly into the gloom. And Gusta went close now, -closer than she had ever gone before; the bars had no longer the old -meaning for her, they had no longer their old repulsion, and she looked -at Archie no more with the old feeling of reproach and moral -superiority. In fact, she judged no more; sin had healed her of such -faults as self-satisfaction and moral complacency; it had softened and -instructed her, and in its great kindness revealed to her her own -relation to all who sin, so that she came now with nothing but -compassion, sympathy and love. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. - -"Oh, Archie!" she said. "Oh, Archie!" - -Archie looked at her and at the officers. Gusta was oblivious; she put -her face to the greasy bars, and pressed her lips mutely between them. -Archie, who did not like to cry before an officer and before the other -prisoners, struggled hard. Then he kissed her, coldly. - -"Oh, Archie, Archie!" was all she could say, putting all her anguish, -her distress, her sorrow, her impotent desire to help into the varying -inflections of her tone. - -"Oh, Archie! Archie! _Archie!_" - -She spoke his name this last time as if she must find relief by wringing -her whole soul into it. Then she stood, biting her lip as if to stop -its quivering. Archie, on his part, looked at her a moment, then at the -floor. - -"Say you didn't do it, Archie." - -"Do what?" - -"You know--" - -"You mean Kouka?" - -"Oh, no," she said, impatient with the question. - -"That Flanagan job?" - -She nodded rapidly. - -"Of course not; you ought to know that. Every one knows that--even the -coppers." His sentence ended with a sneer cast in the officer's -direction. And Gusta sighed. - -"I'm so glad!" she said, her bosom rising and falling in relief. "They -all said--" - -"Oh, that's just the frame-up," said Archie. "They'd job me for it -quick enough." He was sneering again at the officer, as incarnating the -whole police system, and his face was darkened by a look of all hatred -and malignity. The officer smiled calmly. - -"I'm so glad," Gusta was smiling now. "But--" she began. Her lip -quivered; the tears started afresh. "What about the other?" - -"That was self-defense; he agitated me to it. But don't let's talk -before that copper there--" He could not avert his look of hatred from -the officer, whose face was darkening, as he plucked nervously at his -mustache. - -"He'd say anything--that's his business," Archie went on, unable to -restrain himself. - -"Sh! Don't, Archie!" Gusta said. "Don't!" - -Archie drew in full breaths, inflating his white chest. The officer -returned his look of hatred, his bronzed face had taken on a shade of -green; the two men struggled silently, then controlled themselves. Gusta -was trying again to choke down her sobs. - -"How's father?" Archie asked, after a silence, striving for a -commonplace tone. - -"He's well,--I guess." - -"He knows, does he?" - -"I--don't know." - -"What! Why--can't you tell him? He could get down here, couldn't he? -He had a crutch when I was there." - -She was silent, her head drooped, the flowers in her hat brushed the -bars at Archie's face. She thrust the toe of a patent-leather boot -between the bars at the bottom of the door. The tips of her gloved -fingers touched the bars lightly; there was a slight odor of perfume in -the entry-way. - -"You see," she said, "I--I can't go out there--any more." Her tears -were falling on the cement floor, falling beside the iron bucket in -which was kept the water for the prisoners to drink. - -"Oh!" said Archie coldly. - -She looked up suddenly, read the meaning of his changed expression, and -then she pressed her face against the bars tightly, and cried out: - -"Oh, Archie! Don't! Don't!" - -He was hard with her. - -"By God!" he said. "I don't know why _you_ should have--oh, hell!" - -He whirled on his heel, as if he would go away. - -She clung to the bars, pressing her face against them, trying, as it -were, to thrust her lips through them. - -"Oh, Archie!" she said. "Archie! Don't do that--don't go that way! -Listen--listen--listen to your sister! I'm the same old Gus--honest, -honest, Archie! Listen! Look at me!" - -He had thrust his hands into his pockets and walked to the end of the -corridor. He paused there a moment, then turned and came back. - -"Say, Gus," he said, "I wish you'd go tell Mr. Marriott I want to see -him again. And say, if you go out to the house, see if you can't find -that shirt of mine with the white and pink stripes--you know. I guess -mother knows where it is. Do that now. And--" - -"Time's up," said the officer. "I've got to go." - -"And come down to-morrow, Gus," said Archie. She scarcely heard him as -she turned to go. - -"Hold on!" he called, pressing his face to the bars. "Say! Gus! Come -here a minute." - -She returned. She lifted her face, and he kissed her through the bars. -And she went away, with sobs that racked her whole form. - -As she started out by the convenient side door into the alley, the -officer laid a hand on her shoulder. - -"This way, young woman." - -She looked at him a moment. - -"You'd better go out the other door," he said. - -She climbed the steps behind him, wondering why one door would not do as -well as another. She had always gone out that side door before. When -they were up-stairs, passing the sergeant's room, he touched her again. - -"Hold on," he said. - -"What do you want?" she asked in surprise, - -"I guess you'd better stay here." - -"Why?" she exclaimed. Her surprise had become a great fear. He made no -reply, and pushed her into the sergeant's room. Then he whistled into a -tube--some one answered. "Come down," he commanded. Presently a woman -appeared, a woman with gray hair, in a blue gingham gown something like -a nurse's uniform, with a metal badge on her full breast. - -"Matron," said the officer, "take this girl in charge." - -"Why! What do you mean?" Gusta exclaimed, her eyes wide, her lips -parted. "What do you mean? What have I done? What do you--am -I--_arrested_?" - -"That's what they call it," said the officer. - -"But what for?" - -"You'll find out in time. Take her up-stairs, Matron." - -Gusta looked at the officer, then at the matron. Her face was perfectly -white. - -The matron drew near, put her arm about her, and said: - -"Come with me." - -Gusta swayed uncertainly, tottered, then dragged herself off, leaning -against the matron, walking as if in a daze. - - - - - IX - - -It had been months since Marriott had gone up those steps at the Wards', -and he mounted them that November evening with a regret at the loss of -the old footing, and an impatience with the events that had kept him -away. He had waited for some such excuse as Gusta's commission now gave -him, and the indignation he felt at the girl's arrest was not strong -enough to suppress his gratitude for the opportunity the injustice -opened to him. He was sure that Elizabeth knew he was to defend Archie; -she must know how sensitive he was to the criticism that was implied in -the tone with which the newspapers announced the fact. The newspapers, -indeed, had shown feeling that Archie should be represented at all. -They had published warnings against the law's delays, of which, they -said, there had already been too many in that county, forgetting how -they had celebrated the success and promptness, the industry and -enterprise of John Eades. They had spoken of Archie as if he were a -millionaire, about to evade and confound law and justice by the use of -money. Marriott told himself, bitterly, that Elizabeth's circle would -discuss the tragedy in this same tone, and speak of him with -disappointment and distrust; that was the attitude his own friends had -adopted; that was the way the lawyers and judges even had spoken to him -of it; he recalled how cold and disapproving Eades had been. This -recollection gave Marriott pause; would it not now be natural for -Elizabeth to take Eades's attitude? He shrank from the thought and -wished he had not come, but he was at the door and he had Gusta's -message--impossible as it seemed after all these thoughts had crossed -his mind. - -She received him in her old manner, without any of the stiffness he had -feared the months might have made. - -"Ah, Gordon," she said. "I'm so glad you came." - -She led the way swiftly into the library. A little wood fire, against -the chill of the autumn evening, was blazing in the wide fireplace; -under the lamp on the broad table lay a book she must have put down a -moment before. - -"What have you been reading? Oh, _Walden_!" And he turned to her with -the smile of their old comradeship in such things. - -"I've been reading it again, yes," she said, "and I've wished to talk it -over again with you. So you see I'm glad you came." - -"I came with a message from--" - -"Oh!" The bright look faded from her eyes. "Well, I'm glad, then, that -some one sent you to me." - -He saw his mistake, and grieved for it. - -"I wanted to come," he stammered. "I've been intending to come, -Elizabeth, anyway, and--" - -He felt he was only making the matter worse, and he hated himself for -his awkwardness. - -"Well," she was saying, "sit down then, and tell me whom this fortunate -message is from." - -She leaned back in her chair, rather grandly, he felt. He regretted the -touch of formality that was almost an irony in her speech. But he -thought it best to let it pass,--they could get back to the old footing -more quickly if they did it that way. - -"You'd never guess," he said. - -"I'll not try. Tell me." - -"Gusta." - -"Gusta!" Elizabeth leaned forward eagerly, and Marriott thought that he -had never before seen her so good to look upon; she was so virile, so -alive. He noted her gray eyes, bright with interest and surprise, her -brown hair, too soft to be confined in any conventional way, and worn as -ever with a characteristic independence that recognized without -succumbing to fashion. He fixed his eyes on her hands, white, strong, -full of character. And he bemoaned the loss of those months; why, he -wondered, had he been so absurd? - -"Gusta!" she repeated. "Where did you see Gusta?" - -"In prison." - -"What! No! Oh, Gordon!" she started with the shock, and Marriott found -this attitude even more fascinating than the last; her various -expressions changing swiftly, responding with instant sensitiveness to -every new influence or suggestion, were all delightful. - -"What for? Tell me! Why don't you tell me, Gordon? Why do you sit -there?" - -Her eyes flashed a reproach at him--and he smiled. He was wholly at ease -now. - -"For nothing. She's done nothing. She went to see Archie, and the -police, stupid and brutal as usual, detained her. That's all; they -placed the charge of suspicion against her to satisfy the law. The -law!" - -He sneered out the word. - -Elizabeth had fallen back in her chair with an expression of pain. - -"Oh, Gordon!" she said with a shudder. "Isn't it horrible, horrible!" - -"Horrible!" he echoed. - -"That poor Koerner family! What can the fates be about? You know--you -know it all seems to come so near. Such things happen in the world, of -course, every day the newspapers, the dreadful newspapers, are filled -with them. But they never were real at all, because they never happened -to people I knew. But this comes so near. Just think. I've seen that -Archie Koerner, and he has spoken to me, and to think of him now, a -murderer! Will--they hang him?" - -She leaned forward earnestly. - -"No," he said slowly. "They may electrocute him though--to use their -barbarous word." - -"And now Gusta's in prison!" Elizabeth went on, forgetting Archie. "But -her message! You haven't given me her message!" - -Marriott waited a moment, perhaps in his inability to forego the -theatrical possibilities of the situation. - -"She wants you--to come to her." - -Elizabeth stared at him blankly. - -"To come to her?" - -"Yes." - -"In prison?" - -"Yes." - -Her brows contracted, her eyes winked rapidly. - -"But Gordon, how--how can I?" - -"I don't know." He sat at his ease in the great chair, enjoying the -meaning, the whole significance of her predicament. He had already -appreciated its difficulties, its impossibilities, and he was prepared -now to wring from every one of them its last sensation. Elizabeth, with -her elbow on the arm of her chair, her laces falling away from her white -forearm, bit her lip delicately. She seemed to be looking at the toe of -her suede shoe. - -"Poor little thing!" She spoke abstractedly, as if she were oblivious -to Marriott's presence. He was satisfied; it was good just then to sit, -merely, and look at her. "I must go to her." And then suddenly she -looked up and said in another tone: - -"But how am I to do it, Gordon?" - -He did not answer at once and she did not wait for a reply, but went on, -speaking rapidly, her eyes in a dark glow as her interest was -intensified. - -"Isn't it a peculiar situation? I don't know how to deal with it. I -never was so placed before. You must see the difficulties, Gordon. -People, well, people don't go to such places, don't you know? I really -don't see how it is possible; it makes me shudder to think of it! Ugh!" -She shrugged her shoulders. "What shall you say to her, Gordon?" She -said this as if the problem were his, not hers, and showed a relief in -this transfer of the responsibility. - -"I don't know yet," he said. "Whatever you tell me." - -"But you must tell her something; you must make her understand. It -won't do for you to hurt the poor girl's feelings." - -"Well, I'll just say that I delivered her message and that you wouldn't -come." - -"Oh, Gordon! How could you be so cruel? You certainly would not be so -heartless as to say I _wouldn't_!" - -"Well, then, that you _couldn't_." - -"But she would want a reason, and she'd be entitled to one. What one -could you give her? You must think, Gordon, we must both think, and -decide on something that will help you out. What are you laughing at?" - -"Why, Elizabeth," he said, "it isn't my predicament. It's your -predicament." - -He leaned back in his chair comfortably, in an attitude of -irresponsibility. - -"How can you sit there," Elizabeth said, "and leave it all to me?" - -And then she laughed,--and was grave again. - -"Of course," she said. "Well--I'm sure I can't solve it. Poor little -Gusta! She was so pretty and so good, and so--comfortable to have -around--don't you know? Really, we've never had a maid like her. She -was ideal. And now to think of her--in prison! Isn't it awful?" - -Marriott sat with half-closed eyes and looked at her through the haze of -his lashes. The room was still; the fire burned slowly in the black -chimney; now and then the oil gurgled cozily in the lamp. - -"What is a prison like, Gordon? Is it really such an awful place?" - -Marriott thought of the miserable room in the women's quarters, with its -iron wainscoting, the narrow iron bed; the wooden table and chair, and -he contrasted it with this luxurious library of the Wards. - -"Well," he said, turning rather lazily toward the fire, "it's nothing -like this." - -"But,"--Elizabeth looked up suddenly with the eagerness of a new -idea,--"can't you get her out on bail--isn't that what it's called? -Can't you get some kind of document, some writ?--yes, that's it." She -spoke with pleasure because she had found a word with a legal sound. -"Get a writ. Surely you are a lawyer clever enough to get her out. I -always thought that any one could get out of prison if he had a good -lawyer. The papers all say so." - -"You get in prison once and see," said Marriott. - -"Mercy, I expect to be in prison next!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Prisons! -We seem to have had nothing but prisons for a year or more. I don't -know what started it--first it was that poor Harry Graves, then Archie, -and now it's Gusta. And you talk of them and John Eades talks of -them--and I had to see them one night taking some prisoners to the -penitentiary. I'd never even thought of prisons before, but since then -I've thought of nothing else; I've lived in an atmosphere of prisons. -It's just like a new word, one you never heard before,--you see it some -day, and then you're constantly running across it. Don't you know? It's -the same way with history--I never knew who Pestalozzi was until the -other day; never had heard of him. But I saw his name in Emerson, then -looked him up--now everything I read mentions him. And oh! the memory -of those men they were taking to the penitentiary! I'll never escape -it! I see their faces always!" - -"Were they such bad faces?" - -"Oh, no! such poor, pale, pathetic faces! Just like a page from a -Russian novel!" - -The memory brought pain to her eyes, and she suffered a moment. Then -she sat erect and folded her hands with determination. - -"We might as well face it, Gordon, of course. I just can't go; you see -that, don't you? What shall we do?" - -"You might try your Organized Charities." His eyes twinkled. - -"Don't ever mention that to me," she commanded. "I never want to hear -the word. That's a page from my past that I'm ashamed of." - -"Ashamed! Of the Organized Charities?" - -"Oh, Gordon, I needn't tell you what a farce that is--you know it is -organized not to help the poor, but to help the rich to _forget_ the -poor, to keep the poor at a distance, where they can't reproach you and -prick your conscience. The Organized Charities is an institution for -the benefit of the unworthy rich." Her eyes showed her pleasure in her -epigram, and they both laughed. But the pleasure could not last long; -in another instant Elizabeth's hands fell to her lap, and she looked at -Marriott soberly. Then she said, with hopeless conviction: - -"I just can't go, Gordon." - -Before Marriott could reply there was a sense of interruption; he heard -doors softly open and close, the muffled and proper step of a maid, the -well-known sounds that told him that somewhere in the house a bell had -rung. In another moment he heard voices in the hall; a laugh of -familiarity, more steps,--and then Eades and Modderwell and Mrs. Ward -entered the room. Elizabeth cast at Marriott a quick glance of -disappointment and displeasure; his heart leaped, he wondered if it were -because of Eades's coming. Then he decided, against his will, that it -was because of Modderwell. A constraint came over him, he suddenly felt -it impossible that he should speak, he withdrew wholly within himself, -and sat with an air of detachment. - -The clergyman, stooping an instant to chafe his palms before the fire, -had taken a chair close to Elizabeth, and he now began making remarks -about nothing, his clean, ruddy face smiling constantly, showing his -perfect teeth, his eyes roving over Elizabeth's figure. - -"Well! Well! Well!" he cried. "What grave questions have you two been -deciding this time?" - -Elizabeth glanced at Marriott, whose face was drawn, then at Eades, who -sat there in the full propriety of his evening clothes, then at her -mother, seated in what was considered the correct attitude for a lady on -whom her rector had called. - -"I think it's good we came, eh, Eades?" the clergyman went on, without -waiting for an answer. "It is not good for you to be too serious, Miss -Elizabeth,--my pastoral calls are meant as much as anything to take -people out of themselves." He laughed again in his abundant -self-satisfaction and reclined comfortably in his chair. And he rolled -his head in his clerical collar, with a smile to show Elizabeth how he -regarded duties that in all propriety must not be considered too -seriously or too sincerely. But Elizabeth did not smile. She met his -eyes calmly. - -"Dear me," he said, mocking her gravity. "It must have been serious." - -"It was," said Elizabeth soberly. "It was--the murder!" - -"The murder! Shocking!" said Modderwell. "I've read something about -it. The newspapers say the identification of Koerner by that poor old -woman was complete and positive; they say the shock was such that she -fainted, and that he stood there all the time and sneered. I hope, -Eades, you will see that the wretch gets his deserts promptly, and send -him to the gallows, where he belongs!" - -"Marriott here doesn't join you in that wish, I know," said Eades. - -"No? Why not?" asked Modderwell. "Surely he--" - -"He's going to defend the murderer." Eades spoke in a tone that had a -sting for Marriott. - -"Oh!" said Modderwell rather coldly. "I don't see how you can do such a -thing, Marriott. For your own sake, as much as anybody's, I'm sorry I -can't wish you success." - -"I wish he hadn't undertaken the task," said Eades. - -"I'm sure it must be most disagreeable," said Mrs. Ward, feeling that -she must say something. - -"Why do you wish it?" said Marriott, suddenly turning almost savagely on -Eades. - -"Why," said Eades, elevating his brows in a superior way, "I don't like -to see you in such work. A criminal practice is the disreputable part -of the profession." - -"But you have a criminal practice." - -"Oh, but on the other side!" said Modderwell. "And we all expect so -much better things of Mr. Marriott." - -"Oh, don't trouble yourselves about me!" said Marriott. "I'm sure I -prefer my side of the case to Eades's." - -The atmosphere was surcharged with bitterness. Mrs. Ward gave a sidelong -glance of pain, deprecating such a _contretemps_. - -"And I'm going to try to save him," Marriott was forging on. - -"Well," said Eades, looking down on his large oval polished nails, and -speaking in a tone that would finally dispose of the problem, "for my -part, I revere the law and I want to see it enforced." - -"Exactly!" Modderwell agreed. "And if there were fewer delays in -bringing these criminals to justice, there would be fewer lynchings and -more respect for the law." - -Marriott did not even try to conceal the disgust with which he received -this hackneyed and conventional formula of thoughtless respectability. -He felt that it was useless to argue with Eades or Modderwell; it seemed -to him that they had never thought seriously of such questions, and -would not do so, but that they were merely echoing speeches they had -heard all their lives, inherited speeches that had been in vogue for -generations, ages, one might say. - -"I am sure it must be a most disagreeable task," Mrs. Ward was saying, -looking at her daughter in the hope that Elizabeth might relieve a -situation with which she felt herself powerless to deal. Marriott -seemed always to be introducing such topics, and she had the distaste of -her class for the real vital questions of life. But Elizabeth was -speaking. - -"I'm sure that Gordon's task isn't more disagreeable than mine." - -"Yours?" Mrs. Ward turned toward her daughter, dreading things even -worse now. - -"Yes," replied Elizabeth, looking about in pleasure at the surprise she -had created. - -"Why, what problem have you?" asked Modderwell. - -"I've been sent for--to come to the prison to see--" - -"Not _him_!" said Modderwell. - -Eades started suddenly forward. - -"No," said Elizabeth calmly, enjoying the situation, "his sister." - -"His sister!" - -"Yes," she turned to her mother. "You know, dear; Gusta. She's been -arrested." - -"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward. "Elizabeth! The idea! What impertinence! -Who could have brought such an insolent message!" She looked at -Marriott, as did the others. - -"The idea!" Mrs. Ward went on. "Why, I had no notion he was _her_ -brother. To think of our harboring such people!" - -Mrs. Ward stiffened in her chair, with glances from time to time for -Marriott and Elizabeth, in an attitude of chilling and austere social -disapproval; then, as if she had forgotten to claim the reassurance she -felt to be certain, she leaned forward, out of the attitude as it were, -to say: - -"Of course you sent the reply her assurance deserved." - -"No," said Elizabeth in a bird-like tone, "I didn't. What would you do, -Mr. Eades?" - -"Why, of course you could not go to a prison," replied Eades. - -"But you could, couldn't you? And you do?" - -"Only when necessary." - -"But you do, Mr. Modderwell?" - -"Only professionally," said Modderwell solemnly, for once remembering -his clerical dignity. - -"Oh, professionally!" said Elizabeth with a meaning. "You go -professionally, too, Gordon, don't you? And I--I can't go that way. I -can go only--what shall I say?--humanly? So I suppose I can't go at -all!" - -"Certainly not," said Mrs. Ward. "How can you ask such a question?" -She was now too disapproving for words. "I can not consent to your -going at all, so let that end it." - -"But, Mr. Modderwell," said Elizabeth, with a smile for her mother, "we -pray, don't we, every Sunday for 'pity upon all prisoners and -captives'?" - -"That's entirely different," said Modderwell. - -"What does it mean,--'I was in prison and ye visited me'?" She sat with -her hands folded in humility, as if seeking wisdom and instruction. - -"That was in another day," said Modderwell. "Society was not organized -then as it is now; it was--all different, of course." Modderwell went -on groping for justification. "If these people are repentant--are -seeking to turn from their wickedness, the church has appointed the -clergy to visit them and give them instruction." - -"Then perhaps you'd better go!" Elizabeth's eyes sparkled, and she -looked at Modderwell, who feared a joke or a trap; then at Eades, who -was almost as deeply distressed as Mrs. Ward, and then at Marriott, -whose eyes showed the relish with which he enjoyed the situation. - -"I don't think she wishes to see me," said Modderwell, with a -significance that did not have a tribute for Gusta. No one disputed -him, and there was silence, in which Eades looked intently at Elizabeth, -and then, just as he seemed on the point of speaking to her, he turned -to Marriott and said: - -"You certainly don't think that a proper place for her to go?" - -"Oh," said Marriott, "don't refer to me; I'm out of it. I've been, I -brought the message--it's--it's up to Elizabeth." - -"Well," said Eades, turning to Elizabeth, "you surely can't be seriously -considering such a thing. You don't know, of course, what kind of place -that is, or what kind of people you would be going among, or what risks -you would be exposing yourself to." - -"There would be no danger, would there?" said Elizabeth in her most -innocent manner. "There would be plenty of policemen at hand, wouldn't -there,--in case of need?" - -"Well, I don't think you'd willingly elect to go among policemen," said -Eades. - -"Perhaps you three would go with me?" suggested Elizabeth. "I'd be safe -then--all I'd lack would be a physician to make my escort completely -representative of the learned professions." - -"The newspaper men would be there," said Eades, "you may be sure of -that, and the publicity--" - -At the word "publicity" Mrs. Ward cringed with genuine alarm. - -"Do you find publicity so annoying?" asked Elizabeth, smiling on the -three men. - -"Elizabeth!" said Mrs. Ward, "I do wish you'd stop this nonsense! It -may seem very amusing to you, but I assure you it is not amusing to me; -I find it very distressing." She looked her distress, and then turned -away in the disgust that was a part of her distress. "It would be -shocking!" she said, when she seemed to them all to have had her say. - -"I'm sorry to shock you all," said Elizabeth meekly. "It's very kind of -you, I'm sure, to act as mentors and censors of my conduct. I feel -sufficiently put down; you have helped me to a decision. I have -decided, after hearing your arguments, and out of deference to your -sentiments and opinions, to--" - -They all looked up expectantly. - -"--to go," she concluded. - -She smiled on them all with serenity; and they looked at her with that -blank helplessness that came over them whenever they tried to understand -her. - - - - - X - - -Though Elizabeth, as long as Eades and Modderwell were there, had chosen -to satirize her predicament, and had experienced the pleasure of -shocking them by the decision she reached, she found when they had gone -that night, and she was alone in her room, that it was no decision at -all. The situation presented itself in all seriousness, and she found -that she must deal with it, not in any whimsical spirit, but in sober -earnestness. She found it to be a real problem, incapable of isolation -from those artificialities which were all that made it a problem. She -had found it easy and simple enough, and even proper and respectable to -visit the poor in their homes, but when she contemplated visiting them -in the prisons which seemed made for them alone, and were too often so -much better than their homes, obstacles at once arose. As she more -accurately imagined these obstacles, they became formidable. She sat by -the table in her room, under the reading-lamp that stood among the books -she kept beside her, and determined to think it out. She made elaborate -preparations, deciding to marshal all the arguments and then make -deductions and comparisons, and thus, by a process almost mathematical, -determine what to do. But she never got beyond the preparations; her -mind worked, after all, intuitively, she felt rather than thought; she -imagined herself, in the morning, going to the police station, -confronting the officers, finally, perhaps, seeing Gusta. She saw -clearly what her family, her friends, her set, the people she knew, -would say--how horrified they would be, how they would judge and condemn -her. Her mother, Eades and Modderwell accurately represented the world -she knew. And the newspapers, in their eagerness for every detail -touching the tragedy, however remotely, would publish the fact! "This -morning Miss Elizabeth Ward, daughter of Stephen Ward, the broker, -called on the Koerner girl. Fashionably dressed--" She could already -see the cold black types! It was impossible, unheard of. Gusta had no -right--ah, Gusta! She saw the girl's face, pretty as ever, but sad now, -and stained by tears, pleading for human companionship and sympathy. -She remembered how Gusta had served her almost slavishly, how she had -sat up at night for her, and helped her at her toilet, sending delicious -little thrills through her by the magnetic touch of her soft fingers. -If she should send for Gusta, how quickly she would come, though she had -to crawl! - -And what, after all, was it that made it hard? What had decreed that -she, one girl, should not go to see another girl who was in trouble? -Such a natural human action was dictated by the ethics and by the -religion of her kind and by all the teachings of her church, and yet, -when it was proposed to practise these precepts, she found them treated -cynically, as if they were of no worth or meaning. That very evening -the representatives of the law and of theology had urged against it! - -At breakfast her mother sat at table with her. Mrs. Ward had breakfasted -an hour earlier with her husband, but she had a kindly way of following -the members of her family one after another to the table, and of -entertaining them while they ate. She had told her husband of -Elizabeth's contemplated visit to the prison, and then had decided to -say nothing of it to Elizabeth, in the hope that the whim would have -passed with the night. But Mrs. Ward could not long keep anything in -her heart, and she was presently saying: - -"I hope, dear, that you have given up that notion of going to see Gusta. -I hope," she quickly added, putting it in the way she wished she had put -it at first, "that you see your duty more clearly this morning." - -"No," said Elizabeth, idly tilting a china cup in her fingers, and -allowing the light that came through the tall, broad windows to fill it -with the golden luminosity of the sun, "I don't see it clearly at all. -I wish I did." - -"Don't you think, dear, that you allow yourself to grow morbid, -pondering over your duty so much?" - -"I don't think I'm morbid." She would as readily have admitted that she -was superstitious as that she was morbid. - -"You have--what kind of conscience was it that Mr. Parrish was talking -about the other night?" Mrs. Ward knitted the brows that life had -marked so lightly. - -"New England, I suppose," Elizabeth answered wearily. "But I have no -New England conscience, mama. I have very little conscience at all, and -as for my duty, I almost never do it. I am perfectly aware that if I -did my duty I should lead an entirely different life; but I don't; I go -on weakly, day after day, year after year, leading a perfectly useless -existence, surrounded by wholly artificial duties, and now these same -artificial duties keep me from performing my real duty--which, just now, -seems to me to go and see poor little Gusta." - -Mrs. Ward was more disturbed, now that her daughter saw her duty, than -she had been a moment before, when she had declared she could not see -it. - -"I do wish you could be like other girls," she said, speaking her -thought as her habit was. - -"I am," said Elizabeth, "am I not?" - -"Well," Mrs. Ward qualified. - -"In all except one thing." - -Mrs. Ward looked her question. - -"I'm not getting married very fast." - -"No," said Mrs. Ward. - -Elizabeth laughed for the first time that morning. - -"You dear little mother, I really believe you're anxious to get rid of -me!" - -"Why, Elizabeth!" said Mrs. Ward, lifting her eyes and then lowering -them suddenly, in her reproach. "How can you say such a thing!" - -"But never mind," Elizabeth went on: - -"'If no one ever marries me I sha'n't mind very much; -I shall buy a squirrel in a cage and a little rabbit hutch. -I shall have a cottage in a wood, and a pony all my own, -And a little lamb quite clean and tame that I can take to town. -And when I'm getting really old--at twenty-eight or nine-- -I shall buy a little orphan girl and bring her up as mine." - - -She smiled as she finished her quotation, and then suddenly sobered as -she said: - -"I'm twenty-seven already!" - -"Who wrote that?" asked Mrs. Ward. - -"Alma-Tadema." - -"Oh! I thought Mr. Marriott might have done it. It's certainly very -silly." - -Nora had brought her breakfast, and the action recalled Gusta to -Elizabeth. - -"What did papa say--about my going to the prison?" - -"He said," Mrs. Ward began gladly, "that, of course, we all felt very -sorry for Gusta, but that you couldn't go _there_. He said it would be -absurd; that you don't understand." Mrs. Ward was silent for a moment, -knowing how much greater the father's influence was than her own. She -was glad that Elizabeth seemed altogether docile and practicable this -morning. - -"There's a good girl now," Mrs. Ward added in the hope of pressing her -advantage home. - -Elizabeth gave a little start of irritability. - -"I wish you wouldn't talk to me in that way, mama. I'm not a child." - -"But surely your father knows best, dear," the mother insisted, "more -than--we do." - -"Not necessarily," said Elizabeth. - -"Why! How can you say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward, who bowed to all -authority as a part of her religion. - -"Papa takes merely the conventional view," Elizabeth went on, "and the -conventional view is taken without thought." - -"But--surely--" Mrs. Ward stammered, in the impotence of one who, easily -convinced without reasons, has no reasons at command--"surely--you heard -what Mr. Modderwell and Mr. Eades said." - -"Their view is conventional," said Elizabeth, "and proper." She gave a -little curl of her lip as she spoke this last word. - -"Well, I'm sure, dear, that we all wish to be proper, and Mr. Modderwell -and Mr. Eades--" - -"Oh! Don't quote those two men to me! Two such prigs, such Pharisees, -I never saw!" - -Mrs. Ward looked at her daughter in a new horror. "Why, Elizabeth! I'm -surprised--I thought that Mr. Eades especially--" - -"Well, don't you think Mr. Eades especially at all! He's not especially; -he thinks he is, no doubt, and so does everybody else, but they have no -right to, and hereafter Mr. Eades can't come here--that's all!" Her -eyes were flashing. - -Mrs. Ward ventured no further just then, but presently resumed: - -"Think what people would say!" - -"Oh, mother! Please don't use that argument. I have often told you -that I don't care at all what people say." - -"I only wish you cared more." She looked at Elizabeth helplessly a -moment and then broke out with what she had been tempted all along to -say. - -"It's that Gordon Marriott! That's what it is! He has such strange, -wild notions. He defends these criminals, it seems. I don't see how he -can approve their actions the way he does." - -"Why, mother!" said Elizabeth. "How you talk! You might think I was a -little child with no mind of my own. And besides, Gordon does not -approve of their actions, he disapproves of their actions, but he -recognizes them as people, as human beings, just like us--" - -"Just like us!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward, withdrawing herself wholly from any -contact with the mere suggestion. "Just like us, indeed! Well, I'd -have him know they're not like us, at all!" - -Elizabeth saw how hopeless it was to try to make her mother understand -Marriott's attitude, especially when she found it difficult to -understand it herself. - -"Just like us, indeed!" Mrs. Ward repeated. "You are certainly the most -astonishing girl." - -"What's the excitement?" - -It was Dick, just entering the room. He was clean-shaved, and glowing -from his plunge, his face ruddy and his eyes bright. He was -good-humored that morning, for he had had nearly five hours of sleep. -His mother poured his coffee and he began eating his breakfast. - -"What's the matter, Bess?" he asked, seizing the paper his father had -laid aside, and glancing at it in a man's ability to read and converse -with women at the same time. - -"Why, she threatens to go to the jail," Mrs. Ward hastened to reply, in -her eagerness for a partizan in her cause. "And her father and Mr. -Modderwell and Mr. Eades have all advised her that it would be -improper--to say nothing of my own wishes in the matter." - -Dick, to his mother's disappointment, only laughed. - -"What do you want to go there for? Some of your friends been run in?" - -"Yes," said Elizabeth calmly. - -"That's too bad! Why don't you have Eades let 'em out,--you certainly -have a swell pull with him." - -"You have just had Mr. Eades's opinion from mama." - -"Who is your friend?" - -"Gusta." - -Dick's face was suddenly swept with scarlet, and he started--looked up, -then hastily raised his coffee-cup, drained its last drop, flung his -napkin on his plate, and said: - -"Oh, that girl that used to work for us?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, mother's right." - -Mrs. Ward looked her gratitude. - -"Of course, you can't go." - -"I can't?" - -He had risen from the table, and Elizabeth's tone impressed him. - -"Look here," he said peremptorily. "You just can't go there, that's all -there is about it!" - -"Why not?" - -"Because you can't. It wouldn't do, it wouldn't be the thing; you ought -to know that." - -"But why?" Elizabeth persisted. "I want a reason." - -"You don't mean to say you seriously consider it?" asked Dick in real -alarm. - -"Yes, I do." - -Dick suddenly grew excited, his eyes flamed, and he was very red. - -"Look here, Bess," he said. "You just can't, that's all." - -"Can't I?" she said, and she gave a little laugh. It was not her usual -pleasant laugh. - -"No, you can't." He spoke more than insistently, he spoke angrily. He -snatched out his thin gold watch and glanced at it. "I've not got time -to discuss this thing. You just can't go--that's all there is to it." - -Elizabeth rose from the table calmly, went out of the room, and Dick, -after a hesitant moment, ran after her. - -"Bess! Bess!" - -She stopped. - -"See here, Bess, you must not go there to see that girl. I'm surprised! -She isn't the sort, you understand! You don't know what you're doing. -Now look here--wait a minute!" He caught her by the arm. "I tell you -it's not the thing, you mustn't!" - -He was quite beside himself. - -"You seem greatly excited," she said. - -He made a great effort, controlled himself, and, still holding her, -began to plead. - -"Please don't go, Bess!" he said. "Please don't!" - -"But why--_why_?" she insisted. - -"Because I say so." - -"Humph!" - -"Because I ask it. Please don't; do it for me, this once. You'll be -sorry if you do. Please don't go!" - -His eyes were full of the plea he was incoherently stammering. He was -greatly moved, greatly agitated. - -"Why, Dick," she said, "what is the matter with you? You seem to take -this trifle very much to heart. You seem to have some special interest, -some deep reason. I wish you'd tell me what it is. Why shouldn't I go -to see poor Gusta? She's in trouble--she was always good to me." - -There was a sudden strange wild expression in his face, his lips were -slightly parted. The moments were flying, and he must be off. - -"Oh, Bess," he said, "for God's sake, don't go!" - -He implored her in his look, then snatching out his watch ran to the -hall, seized his hat and top-coat, and went out, flinging on his coat as -he ran, and leaving the door flying wide behind him. Elizabeth stood -looking after him. When she turned, her mother was in the room. - -"What can be the matter with Dick?" said Elizabeth. "I never saw him so -excited before. He seemed--" She paused, and bit her lip. - -"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Ward calmly, "you see now, I hope, just how -the world regards such a wild action. It was his love and respect for -his sister, of course." - - - - - XI - - -"No, don't say anything more. I've thought it all out; my duty's clear -now, I must go." Elizabeth laid her hand on her father's shoulder, and -though he turned from the great desk at which he sat in his private -office, he hesitated. "Come on." - -"That conscience of yours, Bess--" he began, drawing down the lid of his -desk. - -"Yes, I know, but I can't help it." - -"How did you decide at last to go?" asked Ward, as they walked rapidly -along in the crowded street. - -"Well, it tortured me--I couldn't decide. It seemed so -difficult,--every one--mama, our dear Modderwell, Mr. Eades, Dick--he -nearly lost his reason, and he did lose his temper--thought it -impossible. But at last I decided--" - -"Yes?" - -"--just to go." - -Elizabeth gave a little laugh at this not very illuminating explanation. - -"I didn't know what the proprieties were," she went on. "Our little -code had not provided rules--what to wear, the chaperonage, and all -that, you know. And then,"--she abandoned her irony,--"I thought of -you." - -"As a last resort, eh?" said Ward, looking fondly into her face, -flushing behind her veil in the keen November air. She drew close to -him, put her hand on his arm. - -"Yes," she said, "and as a first resort, as a constant, never-failing -resort." - -She gave his arm a little squeeze, and he pressed her hand to his side -in silence. - -"Do you know where it is?" Elizabeth asked presently. - -"Oh, yes, I was there once." - -"When?" - -"When that boy of mine was arrested--Graves." - -"Yes, I remember." - -"I wonder," he said after a pause, and he paused again at the question -he seemed to fear--"whatever became of him!" - -She had never told him of that day at the charity bureau; she wondered -if she should do so now, but she heard him sigh, and she let it pass. - -"Yes," he went on as if she had been privy to his rapid train of -thought, "I suppose such things must be; something must be done with -them, of course. I hope I did right." - -At the Central Station they encountered a young policeman, who, when he -saw Ward, evidently recognized him as a man of affairs, for he came -forward with flattering alacrity, touching his helmet in the respect -which authority always has ready for the rich, as perhaps the real -source of its privilege and its strength. The young policeman, with a -smile on his pleasant Irish face, took Ward and Elizabeth in charge. - -"I'll take yez to the front office," he said, "and let yez speak to the -inspector himself." - -When McFee understood who Ward was, he came out instantly, with an -unofficial readiness to make a difficult experience easy for them; he -implied an instant and delicate recognition of the patronage he saw, or -thought it proper to see, in this visit, and he even expressed a -sympathy for Gusta herself. - -"I'm glad you came, Mr. Ward," he said. "We had to hold the poor girl, -of course, for a few days, until we could finish our investigation of -the case. Will you go up--or shall I have her brought down?" - -"Oh, we'll go up," said Ward, wondering where that was, and discovering -suddenly in himself the usual morbid desire to look at the inmates of a -prison. The sergeant detailed to conduct them led them up two broad -flights of stairs, and down a long hall, where, at his step, a matron -appeared, with a bunch of keys hanging at her white apron. Elizabeth -went with none of the sensations she had expected. She had been -surprised to find the police station a quiet place, and the policemen -themselves had been very polite, obliging and disinterested. But when -the matron unlocked one of the doors, and stood aside, Elizabeth felt -her breast flutter with fear. - -The sergeant stood in the hall, silent and unconcerned, and when the -matron asked him if he would be present at the interview he shook his -head in a way that indicated the occasion as one of those when rules and -regulations may be suspended. Ward, though he would have liked to go -in, elected to remain outside with the sergeant, and as he did this he -smiled reassuringly at Elizabeth, just then hesitating on the threshold. - -"Oh, just step right in," said the matron, standing politely aside. And -Elizabeth drew a deep breath and took the step. - -She entered a small vestibule formed of high partitions of flanged -boards that were painted drab; and she waited another moment, with its -gathering anxiety and apprehension, for the matron to unlock a second -door. The door opened with a whine and there, at the other end of the -room in the morning light that struggled through the dirty glass of the -grated window, she saw Gusta. The girl sat on a common wooden chair -that had once been yellow, her hat on, her hands gloved and folded in -her lap, as if in another instant she were to leave the room she somehow -had an air of refusing to identify herself with. - -"She's sat that way ever since she came," the matron whispered. "She -hasn't slep' a wink, nor e't a mouthful." - -[Illustration: "She's sat that way ever since she came"] - -Elizabeth's glance swept the room which was Gusta's prison, its walls -lined higher than her head with sheet-iron; on one side a narrow cot, -frowsy, filthy, that looked as if it were never made, though the dirty -pillow told how many persons had slept in it--or tried to sleep in it. -There was a wooden table, with a battered tin cup, a few crusts and -crumbs of rye bread, and cockroaches that raced energetically about, -pausing now and then to wave their inquisitive antennæ, and, besides, a -cheap, small edition of the Bible, adding with a kind of brutal mockery -the final touch of squalor to the room. - -Gusta moved, looked up, made sure, and then suddenly rose and came -toward her. - -"I knew you'd come, Miss Elizabeth," the girl said, with a relief that -compromised the certainty she had just expressed. - -"I came as soon as I could, Gusta," said Elizabeth, with an amused -conjecture as to what Gusta might think had the girl known what -difficulties she had had in getting there at all. - -"Yes," said Gusta, "thank you, I--" - -She blushed to her throat. They stood there in the middle of that -common prison; a sudden constraint lay on them. Elizabeth, conscious of -the difficulty of the whole situation, and with a little palpitating -fear at being in a prison at all--a haunting apprehension of some -mistake, some oversight, some sudden slip or sliding of a bolt--did not -know what to say to Gusta now that she was there. She felt helpless, -there was not even a chair to sit in; she shuddered at the thought of -contact with any of the mean articles of furniture, and stood rigidly in -the middle of the room. She looked at Gusta closely; already, of -course, with her feminine instinct, she had taken in Gusta's dress--the -clothes that she instantly recognized as being better than Gusta had -ever before worn--a hat heavy with plumes, a tan coat, long and of that -extreme mode which foretold its early passing from the fashion, the -high-heeled boots. Her coat was open and revealed a thin bodice with a -lace yoke, and a chain of some sort. An odor of perfume enveloped her. -The whole costume was distasteful to Elizabeth, it was something too -much, and had an indefinable quality of tawdriness that was hard to -confirm, until she saw in it, somehow, the first signs of moral -disintegration. And this showed in Gusta's face, fuller--as was her -whole figure--than Elizabeth remembered it, and in a certain coarseness -of expression that had scarcely as yet gone the length of fixing itself -in lines. Elizabeth felt something that she recoiled from, and her -attitude stiffened imperceptibly. But not imperceptibly to Gusta, who -was a woman, too, and had an instant sense of the woman in Elizabeth -shrinking from what the woman in her no longer had to protect itself -with, and she felt the woman's rush of anger and rebellion in such a -relation. But then, she softened, and looked up with big tears. She -had a sudden yearning to fling herself on Elizabeth's breast, but leave -was wanting, and then, almost desperately, for she must assert her -sisterhood, must touch and cling to her, she seized Elizabeth's hand and -held it. - -"Oh, Miss Elizabeth," she said, "I oughtn't to 'av' sent for you. I -know I had no right; but you was always good to me, and I had no one. -I've done nothing. I've done nothing, honest, honest, Miss Elizabeth, -I've done nothing. I don't know what I'm here for at all; they won't -tell me. And Archie, too, it must have something to do with him, but -he's innocent, too. He hasn't done nothing either. Won't you believe -me? Oh, say you will!" - -She still clung to Elizabeth's hand, and now she pressed it in both her -own, and raised it, and came closer, and looked into Elizabeth's face. - -"Say you believe me!" she insisted, and Elizabeth, half in fear, as -though to pacify a maniac, nodded. - -"Of course, of course, Gusta." - -"You mean it?" - -"Surely I do." - -"And you know I'm just as good as I ever was, don't you?" - -"Why--of course, I do, Gusta." It is so hard to lie; the truth, in its -divine persistence, springs so incautiously to the eyes before it can be -checked at the lips. - -The tears dried suddenly in Gusta's blue eyes. She spoke fiercely. - -"You don't mean it! No, you don't mean it! I see you don't--you -needn't say you do! Oh, you needn't say you do!" - -She squeezed Elizabeth's hand almost maliciously and Elizabeth winced -with pain. - -"You--you don't know!" Gusta went on. And then she hesitated, seemed to -deliberate on the verge of a certain desperation, to pause for an -instant before a temptation to which she longed to yield. - -"I could tell you something," she said significantly. - -A wonder gathered in Elizabeth's eyes. Her heart was beating rapidly, -she could feel it throbbing. - -"Do you know why I sent for you--what I had to tell you?" - -She was looking directly in Elizabeth's eyes; the faces of both girls -became pale. And Elizabeth groped in her startled mind for some clear -recognition, some postulation of a fact, a horrible, blasting certitude -that was beginning to formulate itself, a certitude that would have -swept away in an instant all those formal barriers that had stood in the -way of her coming to this haggard prison. She shuddered, and closed her -mind, as she closed her eyes just then, to shut out the look in the eyes -of this imprisoned girl. - -But the moment was too tense to last. Some mercy was in the breast of -the girl to whom life had shown so little mercy. Voluntarily, she -released Elizabeth, and put up her hands to her face, and shook with -sobs. - -"Don't, don't, Gusta," Elizabeth pleaded, "don't cry, dear." - -The endearment made Gusta cry the harder. And then Elizabeth, who had -shrunk from her and from everything in the room, put her arms about her, -and supported her, and patted her shoulder and repeated: - -"There, dear, there, you mustn't cry." - -And then presently: - -"Tell me what I can do to help you. I want to help you." - -Gusta sobbed a moment longer. - -"Nothing, there is nothing," she said. "I just wanted you. I wanted -some one--" - -"Yes, I understand," said Elizabeth. She did understand many things now -that made life clearer, if sadder. - -"I wanted you to tell my poor old mother," said Gusta. "That's -all--that's what I had to tell you." - -She said it so unconvincingly, and looked up suddenly with a wan smile -that begged forgiveness, and then Elizabeth did what a while before -would have been impossible--she kissed the girl's cheek. And Gusta -cuddled close to her in a peace that almost purred, and was contented. - -Gusta was held for a week; then released. - - - - - XII - - -Archie was looking well that Monday morning in January on which his -trial was to begin. He had slept soundly in his canvas hammock; not -even the whimpering of Reinhart, the young sneak thief whom every one in -the jail detested, nor the strange noises and startled outcries he made -in his sleep--when he did sleep--had disturbed him. The night before, -Utter had allowed Archie a bath, though he had broken a rule in doing -so, and that morning Archie had borrowed a whisk from Utter, brushed his -old clothes industriously, and then he had put on the underwear his -mother had washed and patched and mended, and the shirt of blue and -white stripes Marriott had provided. Then with scrupulous care he set -his cell in order, arranged his few things on the little table--the deck -of cards, the yellow-covered dog's-eared novel and a broken comb. -Beside these, lay his fresh collar and his beloved blue cravat with the -white polka dots; his coat and waistcoat hung over the back of his -chair. At seven o'clock Willie Kirkpatrick, alias "Toughie," a boy who, -after two terms in the Reform School, was now going to the Intermediate -Prison, had brought in the bread and coffee. At eight o'clock Archie -was turned into the corridor, and with him Blanco, the bigamist, whose -two young wives were being held as witnesses in the women's quarter. -Blanco was a barber, and he made himself useful by shaving the other -prisoners. This morning, with scissors, razor, lather-brush and cup, he -took especial pains with Archie. Now and then he paused, cocked his -little head with its plume of black hair, and surveyed his handiwork -with honest pride. - -"I'll fix you up swell, Dutch, so's they'll have to acquit you." - -From the cells came laughter. The prisoners began to josh Blanco--it -was one of their few pastimes. - -"Don't stand for one of them gilly hair-cuts, Dutch," cried Billy Whee, -a porch-climber. "It'll be a fritzer, sure." - -"Yes, he'll make your knob look like a mop." - -"When I was doing my bit at the Pork Dump," began O'Grady, in the tone -that portends a story; the cell doors began to rattle. - -"Cheese it," cried the voices. They had grown tired of O'Grady's -boasting. - -After Archie had returned to his cell, an English thief whom they called -the Duke, began to sing in a clear tenor voice, to the tune of _Dixie_: - -"I wish there were no prisons, - I do, I does--'cause why?-- -This old treadmill makes me feel ill, -I only pinch my belly for to fill, - Wi' me 'ands, - Wi' me dukes, - Wi' me clawrs, - Me mud hooks." - - -Archie scowled; he wished, for once, the Duke would keep still. He was -trying to think, trying to assure himself that his trial would turn out -well. Day after day, Marriott had come, and for hours he and Archie had -sat in the long gray corridor, in the dry atmosphere of the overheated -jail, conferring in whispers, because Archie knew Danner was listening -at the peep-hole in the wall. Marriott was perplexed; how could he get -Archie's true story before the jury? He had even consulted Elizabeth, -told her the story. - -"Oh, horrible!" she exclaimed. "But surely, you can tell the -jury--surely they will sympathize." - -He had shaken his head. - -"Why not?" - -"Because," said Marriott, "the rules of evidence are designed to keep -out the truth." - -"But can't Archie tell it?" - -"I don't dare to let him take the stand." - -"Why?" - -"Because he'll be convicted if he does." - -"And if he doesn't?" - -"The same result--he'll be convicted. He's convicted now--the mob has -already done that; the trial is only a conventional formality." - -"What mob?" - -"The newspapers, the preachers, the great moral, respectable mob that -holds a man guilty until he proves himself innocent, and, if he asserts -his innocence, looks even on that as a proof of his guilt." - -Eades had announced that Archie would be tried for the murder of Kouka, -and Elizabeth had been impressed. - -"Wasn't that rather fine in him?" she asked. - -"Yes," said Marriott, "and very clever." - -"Clever?" - -"He means to try him for the murder of Kouka, and convict him of the -murder of Margaret Flanagan." - -This morning then, Archie awaited the hour of his trial. The night -before he had played solitaire, trying to read his fate in the fall of -the fickle cards. The first game he had lost; then he decided that he -was entitled to two out of three chances. He played again, and lost. -Then he decided to play another--best three out of five--he might win -the other two. He played and won the third game. He lost the fourth. -And now he stood and waited. At half-past eight he drew on his -waistcoat and his coat, giving them a final brushing. The Duke was -singing again: - -"An' I wish there were no bobbies, - I do, I does--'cause why?-- -This oakum pickin' gives me such a lickin', -But still I likes to do a bit o' nickin', - Wi' me 'ands, - Wi' me dukes, - Wi' me clawrs, - Me mud hooks." - - -The last words of the song were punctuated by the clanging of the bolts. - -"Koerner!" called out Danner's voice. - -He was throwing the locks of Archie's cell from the big steel box by the -door. Archie sprang to his feet, gave his cravat a final touch, and -adjusted his coat. The steel door went gliding back in its hard grooves. -He stepped out, thence through the other door, and there Danner waited. -Archie held out his right hand, Danner slipped on the handcuff and its -spring clicked. As they went out, cries came from the cells. - -"So long, Archie! Good luck to ye!" - -"Good luck!" came the chorus. - -Archie, standing in the strange light outside the prison, seemed to take -on a changed aspect. He had grown fat during his two months' idleness -in jail; his skin was white and soft. Now in the gray light of the -January morning, his face had lost the ruddy glow Blanco's shaving had -imparted to it, and was pale. The snow lay on the ground, the air was -cold and raw. Archie gasped in the surprise his lungs felt in this -atmosphere, startling in its cold and freshness after the hot air of the -steam-heated jail. He filled his lungs with the air and blew it out -again in frost. A shudder ran through him. Danner was jovial for once. - -"Fine day," he said. - -Archie did not reply. He hated Danner more than he hated most people, -and he hated every one, almost--save Marriott and Gusta, and his father -and mother and the kids, and Elizabeth, who, as Marriott had reported to -him, wished him well. The air and the light gave him pain--he shrank -from them; he had not been outdoors since that day, a month before, when -he had been taken over with Curly to be arraigned. He looked on the -world again, the world that was so strange and new. Once more there -swept over him that queer sensation that always came as he stepped out -of prison, the sensation of fear, of uncertainty, a doubt of reality, -the blur before his eyes. The streets were deserted, the houses still. -The snow crunched frigidly under his heels. The handcuff chain clicked -in the frost. A wagon turned the corner; the driver walked beside his -steaming horses and flapped his arms about his shoulders; the wheels -whined on the snow. Archie looked at the man; it was strange, he felt, -that a man should be free to walk the streets and flap his arms that -way. - - - - - XIII - - -The court-room was already crowded and buzzed with a pleasant yet -excited hum of voices. Mrs. Koerner, the first to appear that morning, -had been given a seat directly in front of the bailiff's elevated desk, -where she was to sit, a conspicuous figure of sorrow through all the -trial. The twenty-four aged men of the special venire were seated -inside the bar; the reporters were at their table; two policemen, -wearing their heavy overcoats as if they were no discomfort at all, were -gossiping together; Giles, the court stenographer, grown old in -automatic service, wandered about in a thin coat with ragged sleeves, -its shoulders powdered by dandruff. The life that for so many years had -been unfolded to him in a series of dramatic tableaux could have -interested him but little; he seemed, indeed, to have reduced it to mere -symbols--dashes, pothooks, points and outlines. At one of the trial -tables sat Marriott. He was nervous, not having slept well the night -before. At the table with him was Pennell, the young lawyer with the -gift of the gab, who had been so unfortunate as to win the oratorical -prize in college. Pennell, at the last moment, somehow--Marriott never -knew exactly how--had insinuated himself into the case. He explained -his appearance by saying, in his grand, mysterious way, that he had been -engaged by "certain influential friends" of Archie's, who preferred to -remain unknown. Archie, who did not know that he had any influential -friends, could not explain Pennell's presence, but, feeling that the -more lawyers he had the better, he was secretly glad, and Marriott, who -bowed before the whole situation in a kind of helpless fatalism, made no -objection. - -But suddenly a change occurred. The atmosphere became electric. Men -started up, their eyes glistened, they leaned forward, a low murmur -arose; the old bailiff started violently, smote his marble slab with his -gavel, and Mark Bentley, very red in the face, was seen striding toward -the door, waving his authoritative hand and calling: - -"Back there! Get back, I tell you!" - -Archie had just been brought in. Danner led him to the trial table, and -he took his seat, hid his manacled hands, and sat motionless, gazing -straight before him, unconsciously obeying some long-hidden, obscure -instinct of the hunted. But Marriott's hand had found his. - -"How did you sleep last night?" - -"Pretty well," said Archie as politely as possible, the occasion seeming -to require those conventionalities of which he was so very uncertain. - -"Well, we'll soon be at it now," said Marriott, thinking, however, of -his own wretched night. - -Archie watched Marriott tumble the papers out of his green bag and -arrange his briefs and memoranda; he did not take his eyes from the -green bag. Whenever he did, they met other eyes that looked at him with -an expression that combined all the lower, brutish impulses--curiosity, -fear and hate. - -At half-past nine Glassford, having finished his cigar, entered the -court-room. Directly behind him came Eades. The bailiff, who if he had -been drowsing again, had been drowsing as always, with one eye on -Glassford, now got to his feet, and, as Glassford ascended the bench, -struck the marble slab with the gavel and in the instant stillness, -repeated his worn formula. - -"The case of the State _versus_ Archie Koerner," said Glassford, reading -from his docket. He glanced over his gold glasses at Marriott. - -"Are you ready for trial, Mr. Marriott?" - -"We are ready, your Honor." - -Danner unlocked the handcuffs from Archie's wrists. The reporters began -writing feverishly; already messenger boys were coming and going. Gard, -the clerk, was calling the roll of the venire-men, and when he had done, -it was time for the lawyers to begin examining them; but before this -could be done, it was necessary that a formula be repeated to them, and -Gard told them to stand up. As soon as they could comprehend his -meaning, they got to their feet with their various difficulties, and -Gard proceeded: - -"'You and each of you do solemnly swear'--hold up your right -hands--'that the answers you are about to give will be the truth, the -whole truth, and nothing but the truth, s'elp you God.'" - -And then, in a lower voice, as if the real business were now to begin, -he called: - -"William C. McGiffert." - -An aged man came forward leaning on a crooked cane, and took the -witness-stand. Eades began his examination by telling McGiffert about -the death of Kouka, and, when he had finished, asked him if he had ever -heard of it, or read of it, or formed or expressed an opinion about it, -if he were related to Koerner, or to Marriott, or to Pennell, or had -ever employed them, or either of them, as attorney. Then he asked -McGiffert if Lamborn or himself had acted as his attorney; finally, with -an air of the utmost fairness, as if he would not for worlds have any -but an entirely unprejudiced jury, he appealed to McGiffert to tell -whether he knew of any reason why he could not give Koerner a fair and -impartial trial and render a verdict according to the law and the -evidence. McGiffert had shaken his head hastily at each one of Eades's -questions. Eades paused impressively, then asked a question that sent a -thrill through the onlookers. - -"Mr. McGiffert, have you any conscientious scruples against capital -punishment?" - -The suggestive possibility affected men strangely; they leaned forward, -hanging on the reply. McGiffert shook his aged head again as if it were -a gratuitous reflection on his character to hint at his being in any way -unfit for this office. - -Eades, having had McGiffert on many juries and knowing that he -invariably voted for conviction, with a graceful gesture of his white -hand, waved him, as it were, to Marriott. - -Marriott, after an examination he knew was hopeless from the start, -found no cause for challenge; and after Glassford, as if some deeper -possibilities had occurred to his superior mind, had asked McGiffert -about his age and his health, McGiffert, with the relief of a man who -has passed successfully through an ordeal, climbed hastily into the -jury-box and retreated to its farthest corner, as if it were a safe -place from which he could not be dislodged. - -One by one the venire-men were examined; several were excused. One old -man, although he protested, was manifestly deaf, another had employed -Eades, another rose and, hanging over the desk, whispered to Glassford, -who immediately excused him because of physical disability; finally, by -noon, the panel was full. - -Marriott scanned the twelve bearded men. Viewed as a whole, they seemed -well to typify the great institution of the English law, centuries old; -their beards clung to them like the gray moss of a live-oak, hoary with -age. But these patriarchal beards could lend little dignity. The old -men sat there suggesting the diseases of age--rheumatism, lumbago, -palsy--death and decay. Their faces were mere masks of clay; they were -lacking in imagination, in humor, in sympathy, in pity, in mercy, all -the high human qualities having long ago died within them, leaving their -bodies untenanted. He knew they were ready at that moment to convict -Archie. He had sixteen peremptory challenges, and as he reflected that -these would soon be exhausted and that the men who were thus excused -would be replaced by others just like them, a despair seized him. But -it was imperative to get rid of these; they were, for the most part, -professional jurors who would invariably vote for the state. He must -begin to use those precious peremptory challenges and compel the court -to issue special venires; in the haste and confusion men might be found -who would be less professional and more intelligent. In this case, -involving, as it did, the Flanagan case, he needed strong, independent -men, whereas Eades required instead weak, subservient and stupid -men--men with crystallized minds, dull, orthodox, inaccessible to ideas. -Furthermore, Marriott recalled that juries are not made up of twelve -men, as the law boasts, but of two or three men, or more often, of one -man stronger than the rest, who dominates his fellows, lays his -masterful will upon them, and bends them to his wishes and his -prejudices. Perhaps, in some special venire, quite by accident, when the -sheriff's deputies began to scour the town, there might be found one -such man, who, for some obscure reason, would incline to Archie's side. -On such a caprice of fate hung Archie's life. - -"Mr. Marriott, the court is waiting," said Glassford. - -"If your Honor will indulge us a moment." Then Marriott whispered to -Archie. - -"Je's," said Archie. "Looks cheesy to me. Looks to me like a lot o' -rummy blokes. They've got it all framed up now. Them old hoosiers -would cop the cush all right." Archie whispered with the sneering -cynicism of one who holds the belief of the all-powerful influence of -money. "That old harp back there in the corner with the green benny on, -he looks like a bull to me. Go after him and knock him off." - -Archie had indicated quite openly an aged Irishman who sat huddled in a -faded overcoat in the rear row. He had white chin-whiskers and a long, -broad, clean-shaven upper lip. - -"Mr. McGee," said Marriott, rising, "what business are you in?" - -"Oi'm retired, sor." - -"Were you ever on the police force?" - -"Well, sor," said McGee uneasily, "Oi wor wance, sor--yes, sor." - -He looked up now with a nonchalant air. - -"How long were you on the force?" - -"Twinty-wan years, sor." - -Marriott questioned him at length, finally challenged him for cause; -Eades objected, they argued, and Glassford overruled the challenge. -Then, having certainly offended McGee, there was nothing for Marriott to -do but to submit a peremptory challenge. - -By night the venire was exhausted and Glassford ordered a special -venire. With the serving of the special venires, a difference was -noted; whereas the men on the first venire had studied how they should -qualify themselves for jury service, the men whom Bentley and his -deputies now haled into court, studied how they should disqualify -themselves. They were all impatient of the senseless tedium, of the -costly interruption, being men with real work to do. They replied like -experts; all had read of the case, all had formed and expressed -opinions, and their opinions could not be shaken by any evidence that -might be adduced. Glassford plied them with metaphysical questions; drew -psychological distinctions; but in vain. Many of them had scruples -against capital punishment; a score of them, fifty of them swore to -this, to the delight but disappointment of Marriott, the discomfiture of -Eades, the perplexity of Glassford, and the dull amazement of the men in -the jury-box, who had no conscientious scruples against anything. Still -others had certificates of various kinds exempting them from jury -service, which they exhibited with calm smiles and were excused. - -Marriott eked out his precious peremptory challenges for three days; -venire after venire was issued, and Bentley was happy, for all this -meant fees. The crowd diminished. The lawyers grew weary and no longer -exerted themselves to say clever things. The sky, which had sparkled a -cold, frosty blue for days, was overcast with gray clouds, the -atmosphere was saturated with a chill and penetrating moisture. This -atmosphere affected men strangely. Eades and Marriott had a dispute, -Danner ordered Archie to sit erect, Glassford sharply rebuked two -citizens who did not believe in capital punishment for their lack of a -sense of civic duty; then he whirled about in his chair and exclaimed -angrily: - -"We'll not adjourn to-night until we have a jury!" - -Marriott had one peremptory challenge left, and eleven men had been -accepted. It was now a matter of luck. - -"George Holden," called the clerk. - -A broad-shouldered man of medium height came promptly forward, took the -oath, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, folded his strong -hands in his lap, and raised a pair of deep blue eyes to Eades. As he -sat there, something in the poise of his fine head, with its thick curly -hair, claimed attention; interest revived; every one looked at him. He -had a smooth-shaven face and a wide white brow, and the collar of his -dark flannel shirt was open, freeing his strong neck and ample throat. -Marriott suddenly conceived a liking for the man. - -"What is your occupation, Mr. Holden?" asked Eades. - -"Machinist." - -He had read the newspaper accounts of the murder of Kouka and of the -Flanagan tragedy, but he had not formed any real opinions; he may have -formed impressions, but he could lay them aside; he didn't go much -anyway, he said, on what he read in the newspapers. - -The formal questions were put and answered to Eades's satisfaction; then -came the real question: - -"Are you opposed to capital punishment?" - -"Yes, sir, I am." - -"Are your scruples conscientious ones?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"And not to be overcome?" - -"They are not to be overcome." - -Just then Glassford, impatient of all these scruples he was hearing so -much about, whirled on Holden with a scowl. Holden turned; his blue -eyes met those of Glassford. - -"You don't want to sit on this jury, do you?" demanded Glassford. - -"No, sir." - -"It would interfere with your business, wouldn't it?" - -"No, sir." - -"It wouldn't? You earn good wages, don't you?" - -"I'm out of a job now, sir." - -"Well, are your scruples such that you can't lay them aside long enough -to do your duty as a citizen?" - -Holden flushed. - -"I can't lay them aside, no; but it doesn't follow that I can't do my -duty as a citizen." - -"But," began Glassford in his tone of legal argument, "assuming that the -law as it is should be altered, nevertheless, knowing the law, can you -lay aside your private views and perform a public duty by applying this -law to a given state of facts as the court instructs you?--You -understand me, do you?" - -"I understand perfectly, sir." - -"Well, what do you say?" - -"I have no private views that are not public ones; I can't see any -distinction. I say that I would not take an oath that might oblige me -to vote to kill a man." - -The atmosphere became tense. - -"But assuming you had taken an oath, would you rather break that oath -than discharge your duty?" - -"I wouldn't take such an oath." - -"Then you place your private opinions above the law, do you?" - -"In this instance, I do. I don't believe in that law, and I won't help -enforce it." - -"You mean,"--Glassford was plainly angry--"that you wouldn't take an -oath to enforce a law you didn't believe in?" - -"That's just what I mean." - -Glassford looked an instant at Holden as if trying to decide what he had -better do with him for these heresies. Holden's blue eyes were steady; -they returned Glassford's gaze, seeming scarcely to wink. And just then -Eades, fearing the effect of the man's scruples on the jury, thought -best to relieve the situation. - -"We submit a challenge for cause," he said. - -"Allowed," Glassford snapped. "We don't want such men as you on -juries." - -He whirled about in his chair, turned his back on Holden, and as Holden -walked directly from the courtroom, the eyes of all followed him, with a -strange interest in a man who was considered unfit for jury service -because he had principles he would not forego. - -"Samuel Walker," called Gard. - -An aged, doddering man tottered to the chair. He scarcely spoke in -answer to Eades's questions; when he did, it was in the weak, quavering -voice of senility. He had no occupation, knew none of the lawyers, had -no knowledge of the case, had neither formed nor expressed opinions, and -had no scruples against capital punishment. - -"You believe that the laws should be executed and upheld?" said Eades in -an insinuating tone. - -"Heh?" said the old man, leaning forward with an open palm behind his -hairy ear. - -Eades repeated the question and the fellow nodded. - -Marriott turned in disgust from this stupid, senile man who was -qualified, as impatiently as Glassford had turned from the intelligent -man who was disqualified. And then, just as Walker was making for the -jury-box, Marriott used his last peremptory challenge. - -A moment later he saw his mistake. Gard was calling a name he knew. - -"William A. Broadwell." - -The short winter afternoon was closing in. For half an hour shadows had -been stealing wearily through the room; the spectators had become a -blurred mass, the jurymen lounging in the box had grown indistinct in -the gloom. For some time, the green shade of the electric lamp on the -clerk's desk had been glowing, but now, as Broadwell came forward, the -old bailiff, shuffling across the floor, suddenly switched on the -electricity, and group by group, cluster by cluster, the bulbs sprang -into light, first in the ceiling, then on the walls, then about the -judge's bench. There was a touch of the theatrical in it, for the -lights seemed to have been switched on to illuminate the entrance of -this important man. - -He was sworn and took the witness-chair, which he completely filled, and -clasped his white hands across his round paunch with an air that savored -of piety and unction. The few gray hairs glistening at the sides of his -round bald head gave it a tonsured appearance; fat enfolded his skull, -rounding at his temples, swelling on his clean-shaven, monkish cheeks, -falling in folds like dewlaps over his linen collar. He sat there with -satisfaction, breathing heavily, making no movement, excepting as to his -thin lips which he pursed now and then as if to adjust them more and -more perfectly to what he considered the proper expression of -impeccability. Marriott was utterly sick at heart. For he knew William -A. Broadwell, orthodox, formal, eminently respectable, a server on -committees, a deacon with certain cheap honors of the churchly kind, a -Pharisee of the Pharisees. - -In his low solemn voice, pursing his lips nicely after each sentence as -if his own words tasted good to him, Broadwell answered Eades's -questions; he had no opposition to capital punishment, indeed, he added -quite gratuitously, he believed in supporting it; he had great -veneration for the law, and--oh, yes, he had read accounts of the -murder; read them merely because he esteemed it a citizen's duty to be -conversant with affairs of the day, and he had formed opinions as any -intelligent man must necessarily. - -"But you could lay aside those opinions and reach a conclusion based -purely on evidence, of course, Mr. Broadwell?" - -"Oh, yes, sir," said Broadwell, with an unctuous smile that deprecated -the idea of his being influenced in any but the legitimate way. - -"We are thoroughly satisfied with Mr. Broadwell, your Honor," said -Eades. - -"One minute, Mr. Broadwell," began Marriott. - -Glassford looked at Marriott the surprise he felt at his presumption, -and Marriott felt an opposition in the room. Broadwell shifted -slightly, pursed his lips smugly and looked down on Marriott with his -wise benevolence. - -"Mr. Broadwell, you say you read the accounts of the tragedy?" - -"Yes." - -"Did you read all of them?" - -"I believe so." - -"Read the report of the evidence given on the preliminary hearing?" - -"Yes." - -"Read the editorials in the _Courier_?" - -"Yes." - -"You respect its opinions?" - -"I do, yes." - -"Your pastor preached a sermon on this case, did he not?" - -"He made applications of it in an illustrative way." - -"Quite edifying, of course?" - -Marriott knew he had made a mistake, but the impulse to have this fling -had been irresistible. Broadwell bowed coldly. - -"And all these things influenced you?" - -"Yes." - -"Exactly. And on them you have formed an opinion respecting the guilt -or innocence of this young man?" - -Broadwell cast a hasty sidelong glance at Glassford, as if this had gone -quite far enough, but he said patiently: - -"Yes." - -"And it would require evidence to remove that opinion?" - -"I presume it would." - -"You know it would, don't you?" - -"Yes." - -"We submit a challenge for cause, your Honor," said Marriott. - -Glassford turned to Broadwell with an air that told how speedily he -would make an end of this business. - -"You have talked with none of the witnesses, Mr. Broadwell?" - -"Oh, no, sir," said Broadwell, smiling at the absurdity. - -"The accounts you read were not stenographic reports of the evidence?" - -"No, sir; abstracts, rather, I should say." - -"Exactly. Were the conclusions you came to opinions, or mere -impressions?" - -"Mere impressions I should say, your Honor." - -"They are not to be dignified by the name of opinions?" - -"Hardly, your Honor." - -"If they were, you could lay them aside and try this case on its merits, -basing your judgment on the evidence as it is adduced, and on the law as -the court shall declare it to you?" - -"Certainly, your Honor." - -Glassford turned away. - -"If the court," he said, "had any doubts in this matter, they would be -resolved in favor of the defendant, but the court has none. My own -knowledge of Mr. Broadwell and of his standing in the community leads me -to declare that he is the very man for such important service, and the -court feels that we are to be congratulated on having him to assist us -in trying this case. The challenge is overruled. You may take your -seat in the jury-box, Mr. Broadwell." - -Glassford consulted his notes; the peremptory challenges were all -exhausted now. - -"The jury will rise and be sworn," he said. - -Marriott had suffered his first defeat. He looked at the jury. A -change had taken place; these twelve men no longer impressed him as an -institution grown old and gray with the waste of ages. They no longer -held for him any symbolic meaning; little by little, during the long, -tedious hours, individualities had developed, the idea of unity had -receded. Seen thus closely and with increasing familiarity, the formal -disappeared, the man emerged from the mass, and Marriott found himself -face to face with the personal equation. He sat with one arm thrown -over the back of his chair and looked at them, watching, as it were, -this institution disintegrate into men, merely; men without the -inspiration of noble ideals, swayed by primitive impulses, unconsciously -responsive to the obscure and mysterious currents of human feeling then -flowing through the minds of the people, generating and setting in -motion vague, terrible and irresistible powers. He could feel those -strange, occult currents moving in him--he must set himself against them -that he might stand, though all alone, for the ignorant boy whose soul -had strayed so far. - -He studied the faces of the twelve men, trying to discover some hope, -some means of moving and winning them. There was old McGiffert, who -alone of all the first venire had withstood the mutations of the last -four days, sitting serene and triumphant, sure of his two dollars a day, -utterly unconscious of the grave and tragic significance of the -responsibilities he had been so anxious to assume. There was Osgood, -the contractor, a long row of cigars, a tooth-brush, and a narrow comb -sticking out of his waistcoat pocket; Duncan, with his short sandy hair -covering sparsely a red scalp that moved curiously when he uttered -certain words; Foley, constantly munching his tobacco, as he had been -doing for sixty years, so that when he spoke he did so with closed lips; -Slade, the man with the rough red face, who found, as Marriott had at -first thought, amusement in everything, for he smiled often, showing his -gums and a row of tiny unclean teeth; there was Grey, constantly moving -his false teeth about in his mouth; Church, with thin gray hair, white -mustache and one large front tooth that pressed into his lower lip; and -then Menard, the grocer's clerk, wearing black clothes that long ago had -passed out of fashion; his sallow, thin, unhealthy face wearing an -expression of fright. Marriott recalled how uncertain Menard had been -in his notions about capital punishment; how, at first, he had said he -was opposed to it, and how at last, under Glassford's metaphysical -distinctions, the boy had declared that he would do his duty. Marriott -had been encouraged, thinking that Menard's natural impulses might -reassert themselves, but now, alas, he recognized that Menard in the -hands of other men would be but the putty he so much resembled. Then -there were Reder, the gray old German, and Chisholm and McCann, the aged -farmers with the unkempt beards, and Broadwell--ah, Broadwell! For it -was Broadwell who held Marriott's gaze at last, as he held his interest; -it was Broadwell, indeed, who was that jury. Naturally stronger than -the rest, his reputation, his pomposity, the character Glassford had -generously given him--all these marked him as the man who would reach -that jury's verdict for it, and then, as foreman, solemnly bear it in. -Marriott looked at him, smug, sleek, overfed, unctuous, his shining bald -head inclined at a meek angle, his little eyes half closed, his -pendulous jowls hiding his collar, and realized that this was the man to -whom he had to try Archie's case, and he would rather have tried the -case to any other man in town. He wished that he had used his -challenges differently; any other twelve of the two hundred men who had -been summoned would have served his purpose better; he had a wild, -impotent regret that he had not allowed the last man to remain before -Broadwell suddenly appeared. Broadwell was standing there now with the -others, his hand raised, his head thrown back, stretching the white -flabby skin of his throat like a frog's, his eyes closed, as if he were -about to pronounce a benediction on Archie before sending him to his -doom. - -Gard was repeating the oath: - -"'You and each of you do solemnly swear that you will well and truly try -and true deliverance make in the cause now pending, wherein the State is -plaintiff and Archie Koerner is defendant, s'elp you God.'" - -Broadwell bowed, as if for the jury; Marriott almost expected him to say -"Amen." - - - - - XIV - - -The next morning there were the same eager, impatient crowds, but there -were yet other preliminaries; the case must now be stated to the jury. -And Eades, speaking solemnly, told the jury of the pursuit of Archie and -the death of Kouka, all of which had been repeated many times. He spoke -of the importance of government, of the sacredness of human life, how -heinous a sin it is to kill people, and how important it was to put -Archie to death immediately in order that this truth might be better -understood, how serious were the juror's duties, how disagreeable his -own duties, and so forth. Then he began to describe the murder of -Margaret Flanagan, but Marriott objected. They wrangled over this for -some time, and, indeed, until Eades, assured that the jurors had been -sufficiently reminded of the Flanagan murder, felt satisfied. Then -Marriott stated the case for the defense, and finally, that afternoon, -the trial began in earnest. - -Bentley, following his elaborate system of arrangement, bustled about -with a deputy at hand so that he could command him, pushed back the -crowd, locked the doors, and thereafter admitted no one unless he wished -to. The spectators filled the space outside the bar, and encroached on -the space within, forming a dense, closely-packed circle in the center -of which were the jury, the lawyers at their tables, Archie and Danner, -the reporters, the old stenographer, and Glassford looking down from the -bench. The spectators in a strained, nervous silence stared into the -pit where the game was to be played, the game for which Eades and -Marriott were nerving themselves, the game that had Archie's life for -its colossal stake. - -But as the afternoon wore on, expectations were not realized; the -interest flagged. It was seen that the sensations would not come for -days, the proceedings were to move slowly and with a vast and pompous -deliberation to their unrevealed climax. Eades called as witnesses -several laborers who had been of the crowd that pursued Archie and Curly -down the tracks that morning. After them came Weber, the coroner, a -fleshy man with red face and neck, who described the inquest, then his -official physician, Doctor Zimmerman, a young man with a pointed beard, -who wore three chains on his breast, one for the eye-glasses he was -constantly readjusting, another for his clinical thermometer, and -another for his watch. He gave the details of the post-mortem -examination, described the dissection of Kouka's body, and identified -the bullet. - -The crowd pressed forward, trying to find some sensation in the ghastly -relic. Eades gave the bullet to the nearest juryman, who examined it -carefully and passed it on. It went from hand to hand of the jurymen, -each rolled it in his palm, studied it with a look of wisdom; finally it -returned to Eades. And the jurors leaned back in their chairs, -convinced that Kouka was dead. - -The next morning there were other laborers, other physicians, then -railroad detectives, who identified the revolver. The day wore away, -the atmosphere of the court-room became heavy and somnolent. As -skilfully as he could, Eades drew from his witnesses their stories, -avoiding all questions that might disclose facts to Archie's advantage, -and Marriott battled with these hostile witnesses in long -cross-examinations, seeking in vain for some flaw, some inconsistency. -The tedium told on the nerves,--Eades and Marriott had several quarrels, -exchanged insults, Glassford was petulant, the stolid jurymen exhaled -breaths as heavy as snores. Another day came, and judge and lawyers -began with steadier nerves, more impersonal and formal manners; they -were able to maintain a studious courtesy, the proceedings had an -institutional character, something above the human, but as the day -advanced, as the struggle grew more intense, as the wrangling became -more frequent, it was seen that they were but men, breaking down and -giving way to those passions their calm and stately institution -condemned and punished in other men. - -And through it all Archie sat there silent, and, as the newspaper men -scrupulously reported each day, unmoved. But Marriott could hear him -breathe, and when occasionally he glanced at him, could see tiny drops -of moisture glistening on his brow, could see the cords swelling in his -neck, could even hear the gurgle in his throat as he tried to swallow. -Archie rarely spoke; he glanced at the witnesses, now and then at the -jurors, but most of all at Eades. Thus far, however, the testimony had -been formal; there was yet no evidence of premeditation on Archie's -part, and that was the vital thing. - - - - - XV - - -And yet Marriott knew better than to hope. As he walked to the -court-house Monday morning, he wondered how he was to get through the -week. He looked on those he met as the strangely happy and favored -beings of another world, and envied them keenly, even the ragged -outcasts shoveling the newly-fallen snow from the sidewalks. And there -in the upper corridor was that hated crowd, that seemed to be in league -with Eades, Glassford, the jury, the police, the whole machinery of the -state, to kill Archie, to stamp his identity out of the world. Just -then the crowd gyrated in precipitated interest, and he saw Bentley and -Danner bringing Archie down the hall, all three stamping the snow from -their boots. And he saw another figure, new to him, but one that -instantly filled him with strange foreboding. Why, he could not tell, -but this was the effect of the figure that shambled down the corridor. -The man was alone, a tall gaunt form in rough gray clothes, with a long -gray face, walking in loose gangling strides, flinging his huge feet one -after the other, leaving moist tracks behind him. A hickory cane -dangled by its crook from his left arm, he slowly smoked a cigar, taking -it from his mouth occasionally with an uncouth gesture. As he swung -along in his awkward, spraddling gait, his frame somehow conveyed -paradoxically an impression of strength. It seemed that at any moment -this man was in danger of coming apart and collapsing--until Marriott -caught his restless eye. - -Archie had seen him the instant he entered the corridor. Marriott -detected Archie's recognition, and he looked intently for some inkling -of the meaning. The man, in the same instant, saw Archie, stopped, took -his cigar from his lips, spat, and said in a peculiar, soft voice: - -"Why, Archie, my boy." - -This incident deepened Marriott's foreboding. A few moments later, as -the bailiff was opening court, the man entered with a familiar and -accustomed air, and Bentley got a chair and made him comfortable so that -he might enjoy the trial. - -"Who's that man?" Marriott whispered to Archie. - -"That? That's old Jimmy Ball, the deputy warden at the pen." - -"What do you suppose--" - -"He's here to knock, that's what. He's here to rap ag'in me, the old--" - -Archie applied his ugly epithet with an expression of intensest hatred, -and glared at Ball. Now and then Archie repeated the epithet under his -breath, trying each time to strengthen it with some new oath. - -But Marriott just then had no time to learn the significance of this -strange presence. Eades was calling a witness. - -"Detective Quinn!" - -Quinn came in after the usual delay, walking with the policeman's -swagger even after years on the detective force. He came in with his -heavy shoulders set well back, and his head held high, but his eyes had -the fixed stare of self-consciousness. Taking the oath, he ascended the -witness-stand, leaned over, placed his hat against the side of the -chair, and then, crossing one fat thigh over the other, held it in -position with his hand. On his finger flashed a diamond, another -diamond sparkled on his shirt-front. - -"Pipe the rocks!" whispered Archie. "Know where he got 'em? Jane -nicked a sucker and Quinn made her give 'em to him for not rapping." - -Marriott impatiently waved Archie into silence; like all clients he was -constantly leaning over at critical moments of the trial to say -immaterial things, and, besides, his hot moist breath directly in -Marriott's ear was very unpleasant. - -Eades led Quinn through the preliminaries of his examination, and then -in a tone that indicated an approach to significant parts of the -testimony, he said: - -"You may now state, Mr. Quinn, when you next saw the defendant." - -Quinn threw back his head, fingered his close-cropped red mustache, and -reflected as if he had not thought of the subject for a long time. He -was conscious that he was thus far the most important witness of the -trial. He relished the sensation, and, knowing how damaging his -testimony would be, he felt a crude satisfaction. Presently he spoke, -his voice vibrating like a guitar string in the tense atmosphere. - -"The Friday morning before the Flanagan murder." - -"Where did you meet him?" - -"In Kentucky Street near Cherokee." - -"Was he alone, or was some one with him?" - -"Another man was with him." - -"Who was that other man--if you know?" - -"He was an old-timer; they call him Dad." - -"What do you mean by an 'old-timer'?" - -"An old-time thief--an ex-convict." - -"Very well. Now tell the jury what you did--if anything." - -"Well, I knowed Koerner was just back from the pen, and we got to -talking." - -"What did he say?" - -"Oh, I don't just remember. We chewed the rag a little." - -Eades scowled and hitched up his chair. - -"Did he say anything about Kouka?" - -"Hold on!" Marriott shouted. "We object! You know perfectly well you -can't lead the witness." - -"Well, don't get excited," said Eades, as if he never got excited -himself; as he had not, indeed, in that instance, his lawyer's ruse -having so well served its purpose. "I'll withdraw the question." He -thought a moment and then asked: - -"What further, if anything, was said?" - -"Oh," said Quinn, who had understood. "Well, he asked me where Kouka -was. You see he had it in for Kouka." - -"No!" cried Marriott. "Not that." - -"Just tell what he said about Kouka," Eades continued. - -"I was trying to," said Quinn, as if hurt by Marriott's interruption. -"Ever since Kouka sent him up for--" - -"Now look here!" Marriott cried, "this has gone far enough. Mr. Eades -knows--" - -"Oh, proceed, gentlemen," said Glassford wearily, as if he were far -above any such petty differences, and the spectators laughed, relishing -these little passages between the lawyers. - -"Mr. Quinn," said Eades in a low, almost confidential tone, "confine -yourself to the questions, please. Answer the last question." - -Quinn, flashing surly and reproachful glances at Marriott, replied: - -"Well, he asked about Kouka, where he was and all that, and he said, -says he, 'I'm going to get him!'" - -The jury was listening intently. Even Glassford cocked his head. - -"I asked him what he meant, and he said he had it in for Kouka and was -going to croak him." - -Archie had been leaning forward, his eyes fixed in an incredulous stare, -his face had turned red, then white, and now he said, almost audibly: - -"Well, listen to that, will you!" - -"Sh!" said Marriott. - -Archie dropped back, and Marriott heard him muttering under his breath, -marveling at Quinn's effrontery. - -"Tell the jury what further, if anything, was said," Eades was saying. - -"Nothing much," said Quinn; "that was about all." - -"What did you do after that?" - -"I placed him under arrest." - -"Why?" - -"Well, I didn't think it was safe for him to be around--feeling that -way." - -"If he ain't the limit!" Marriott heard Archie exclaim, and he began his -whispered curses and objurgations again. In his excitement and impotent -rage, Marriott was exceedingly irritable, and again he commanded Archie -to be still. - -Eades paused in his examination, bit his lip, and winked rapidly as he -thought. The atmosphere of the trial showed that a critical moment had -come. Marriott, watching Eades out of the corner of his eye, had -quietly, almost surreptitiously moved back from the table, and he sat -now on the edge of the chair. The jurymen were glancing from Eades to -Marriott, then at Quinn, with curious, puzzled expressions. - -"Mr. Quinn," said Eades, looking up, "when did you next see Koerner--if -at all?" - -"On the next Tuesday after that." - -"Where?" - -"In the C. and M. railroad yards." - -"Who was with you, if any one?" - -"Detectives Kouka, and Officers Delaney and O'Brien, of the railroad, -and Officers Flaherty, Nunnally, O'Toole and Finn--besides a lot of -citizens. I don't--" - -"That will suffice. And how came you--but first--" Eades interrupted -himself. Marriott was still watching him narrowly, and Eades, it -seemed, was postponing a question he feared to ask. "First, tell -me--tell the jury--where Koerner was, and who, if anybody, was with -him?" - -"Well, sir, this here fellow they call Curly--Jackson's his name--he's a -thief--a yegg man as they call 'em--he was with him; they was running -and we was chasing 'em." - -"And why were you chasing them?" - -"We had orders." - -"From whom?" - -"Inspector McFee." - -"What were those orders?" - -"Well, sir, there had been a report of that Flanagan job--" - -"Stop!" Marriott shouted. "We object." - -"One moment, Mr. Quinn," said Eades, with an effect of quieting Marriott -as much as of staying Quinn. Marriott had risen and was leaning over the -table. Eades hesitated, realizing that the question on his lips would -precipitate one of the great conflicts of the trial. He was in grave -doubt of the propriety of this question; he had been considering it for -weeks, not only in its legal but in its moral aspect. He had been -unable to convince himself that Archie had been concerned in the murder -of Margaret Flanagan; he had been uncertain of his ability to show -premeditation in the killing of Kouka. He knew that he could not -legally convict Archie of murdering the woman, and he knew he could not -convict him of murdering the detective unless he took advantage of the -feeling that had been aroused by the Flanagan tragedy. Furthermore, if -he failed to convict Archie, the public would not understand, but would -doubt and criticize him, and his reputation would suffer. And he -hesitated, afraid of his case, afraid of himself. The moments were -flying, a change even then was taking place, a subtle doubt was being -instilled in the minds of the crowd, of the jurymen even. He hesitated -another moment, and then to justify himself in his own mind, he said: - -"Mr. Quinn, don't answer the question I am about to ask until the court -tells you to do so." He paused, and then: "I'll ask you, Mr. Quinn, to -tell the jury when you first heard the report of the murder of Margaret -Flanagan." - -"Object!" - -Marriott sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing, his figure tense with -protest. - -"I object! We might as well fight this thing out right here." - -"What is your objection?" asked Glassford. - -"Just this, your Honor," Marriott replied. "The question, if allowed, -would involve another homicide, for which this defendant is not on -trial. It is not competent at this stage of the case to show -specifically or generally other offenses with which this defendant has -been charged or of which he is suspected. It would be competent, if -ever, only as showing reputation, and the reputation of the defendant -has not yet been put in evidence. Further, if answered in its present -form, the evidence would be hearsay." - -Eades had been idly turning a lead-pencil end for end on the table, and -now with a smile he slowly got to his feet. - -"If the Court please," he began, "Mr. Marriott evidently does not -understand; we are not seeking to show the defendant's reputation, or -that he is charged with or suspected of any other crime. What we are -trying to show is that these officers, Detective Quinn and the deceased, -were merely performing a duty when they attempted to arrest Koerner, -that they were acting under orders. What we offer to show is this: -Margaret Flanagan had been murdered and the officers had reasonable -grounds to believe that Koerner--" - -"Now see here!" cried Marriott. "That isn't fair, and you know it. You -are trying to influence the jury, and I'm surprised that a lawyer of -your ability and standing should resort to tactics so unprofessional--" - -Eades colored and was about to reply, but Marriott would not yield. - -"I say that such tactics are unworthy of counsel; they would be unworthy -of the veriest pettifogger!" - -Eades flushed angrily. - -"Do you mean to charge--" he challenged. - -"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Glassford warned them. "Address yourselves to -the Court." - -Eades and Marriott exchanged angry and menacing glances. The jury -looked on with a passivity that passed very well for gravity. At the -risk of incurring the jurors' displeasure, Marriott asked that they be -excused while the question was debated, and Glassford sent them from the -room. - -The legal argument began. Marriott had countless precedents to justify -Glassford's ruling in his favor, just as Eades had countless precedents -to justify Glassford's ruling in his favor, but to the spectators it all -seemed useless, tedious and silly. A murder had been committed, they -thought, and hence it was necessary that some one be killed; and there -sat Archie Koerner--why wait and waste all this time? why not proceed at -once to the tragic dénouement and decree his death? - -Glassford, maintaining a gravity, and as if he were considering all the -cases Marriott and Eades were citing, and weighing them nicely one -against the other, listened to the arguments all day, gazing out of the -window at the scene so familiar to him. Across the street, in an upper -room of a house, was a window he had been interested in for months. A -woman now and then hovered near it, and Glassford had long been -tantalized by his inability to see clearly what she was doing. - -The next morning Glassford announced his decision. It was to the effect -that the State would be permitted to show only that a felony had been -committed, and that the officers had had grounds for believing that -Archie had committed it; but as to details of that murder, or whether -Archie had committed it, or who had committed it--that should all be -excluded. This was looked upon as a victory for the defense, and, at -Marriott's request, Glassford told the jurors that they were not to -consider anything that had been said about the Flanagan murder or -Archie's connection with it. All this, he told them, they were to -dismiss from their minds and not to be influenced by it in the least. -The jurymen paid Glassford an exaggerated, almost servile attention, and -when he had done, several of them nodded. And all were glad that they -were to hear nothing more of the Flanagan murder, for, during the long -hours of their exclusion from the court-room, they had talked of nothing -but the Flanagan murder, had recalled all of its details, and argued and -disputed about it, until they had tired of it, and then had gone on to -recall other murders that had been committed in the county, and finally, -other murders of which they had heard and read. - -Quinn, in telling again the story the jurors had heard so many times in -court, and had read in the newspapers, frequently referred to the -Flanagan murder, until Marriott wearied of the effort to prevent him. -He knew that it was useless to cross-examine Quinn, useless to attempt -to impress on the crystallized minds of the jurymen the facts as they -had occurred. The jurymen were not listening; they were looking at the -ceiling, or leaning their heads on their hands, enduring the proceedings -as patiently as they could, as patiently as Eades or Quinn or Glassford. -And Marriott reflected on the inadequacy of every means of communication -between human beings. How was he to make them understand? How was he -to get them to assume, if for an instant only, his point of view? Here -they were in a court of justice, an institution that had been evolved, -by the pressure of economic and social forces, through slow, toiling -ages; the witnesses were sworn to tell "the truth, the whole truth, and -nothing but the truth," and yet, such was man's puerility and impotence, -such was the imperfection of his means of conveying ideas, that the -whole truth could not possibly be told--a thousand elements and -incidents must be omitted; the moods, for instance, of Archie when he -talked to Quinn or to Kouka, the expressions on their faces, the light -in their eyes, indications far more potent than mere words, words that -might be lightly, trivially, innocently spoken one day and under one set -of circumstances, but which, on some other day and under other -circumstances, would take on a terrible, blasting, tragic significance. -Above all, that intangible thing, the atmosphere of the occasion--this -could by no possibility be reproduced even though Quinn made every -effort to be honest. And how much greater the impossibility when Quinn -was willing to be disingenuous, to allow the prejudices and the passions -of his hearers to reflect on his words their own sentiments, so that the -hatred in the hearts of this this jury, these prosecutors, might seem to -be a hatred, instead, in Archie's breast! Realizing the impossibility, -Marriott felt again the strong, occult influences that opposed him, and -had scarcely the strength to cross-examine Quinn. And yet he must make -the effort, and for two long hours he battled with Quinn, set his wits -and his will against him, but it was all hopeless. For he was not -opposing Quinn's mind alone, he was opposing the collective mind of this -crowd behind him, and that larger crowd in the city outside. - -"Anything further, Mr. Marriott?" asked Glassford. - -Marriott had a momentary rage at this impersonation of the vengeful -state sitting before him, and exclaimed with disgust: - -"Oh, I guess not." - - - - - XVI - - -The instant Marriott entered the court-house the next morning he was -sensible of a change; it was as palpable as the heavy, overheated -atmosphere indoors after the cool air outdoors. He could not account -for this change; he knew only that it had come in the night, and that it -boded some calamity in the world. Already it seemed to have had its -effect on the men he met, clerks, attachés, and loafers; they glanced at -him stealthily, then averted their eyes quickly. Somehow they filled -Marriott with loathing and disgust. - -As he went up in the swiftly-ascending elevator, the old man who -operated it gave him that same look, and then observed: - -"Something's in the air to-day." - -Yes, thought Marriott, something is in the air. But what? - -"I reckon it's going to storm," the white-headed veteran of the great -war went on. "My rheumatiz hurts like hell this morning." - -What mysterious relation was it, wondered Marriott, that bound this old -man through his joints--gnarled by the exposure of his service to his -country so long before--to all nature, foretelling her convulsions and -cataclysms? What mysterious relation was it that bound men's minds to -the moral world, foretelling as well its catastrophes and tragedies? - -"I reckon it's the January thaw," the old fellow jabbered on, his mind -never rising above the mere physical manifestations of nature. - -The crowd was denser than ever, and there in the front row, where she -had been every day of the trial, was old Mrs. Koerner, with eyes that -every day grew deeper and wider, as more and more tragedy was reflected -in their profound and mysterious depths. - -"Call Henry Griscom," said Eades. - -The crowd, the jury, the lawyers, waited. Marriott wondered; he felt -Archie's breath in his ear and heard his teeth chatter as he whispered: - -"I knew old Jimmy Ball had something framed up. Great God!" - -The crowd made way, and the tall, lank form of the deputy warden -shambled into the court-room. A man was chained to him. - -"Great God!" Archie was chattering; "he's going to split on me!" - -The man whom Ball had just unshackled took the oath, and looked -indecisively into Ball's eyes. Ball motioned with his cane, and with a -slow mechanical step, the man walked to the witness-stand and perched -himself uneasily on the edge of the chair. - -Archie fixed his eyes on the man in a steady, intense blaze; Marriott -heard him cursing horribly. - -"The snitch!" he said finally, and then was silent, as if he had put his -whole contempt into that one word. - -The emaciated form of the man in the witness chair was clothed in the -gray jacket and trousers of a convict of the first grade. The collar of -his jacket stood out from a scrawny neck that had a nude, leathery, -rugose appearance, like the neck of a buzzard. If he wore a shirt, it -was not visible, either at his neck or at his spindling wrists. As he -hung his head and tried to shrink from the concentrated gaze of the -crowd into his miserable garments, he suggested a skeleton, dressed up -in ribald sport. It was not until Eades had spoken twice that the man -raised his head, and then he raised it slowly, carefully, as if dreading -to look men in the eyes. His shaven face was long and yellow; the skin -at the points of his jaw, at his retreating chin and at his high -cheek-bones was tightly stretched, and shone; he rolled his yellow -eye-balls, and winked rapidly in the light of freedom to which he was so -unaccustomed. - -"Who is he?" Marriott whispered quickly. - -"An old con.--a lifer," Archie explained. "One o' them false alarms. -He's no good. They've promised to put him on the street for this." - -But Eades had begun his examination. - -"And where do you reside, Mr. Griscom?" Eades was asking in a respectful -tone, just as if the man might be a resident of Claybourne Avenue. - -"In the penitentiary." - -"How long have you been there?" - -"Seventeen years." - -"And your sentence is for how long?" Eades continued. - -The man's eyes drooped. - -"Life." The word fell in a hollow silence. - -"And do you know this man here--Archie Koerner?" - -The convict, as if by an effort, raised his eyes to Archie, dropped them -hastily and nodded. - -"What do you say?" said Eades. "You must speak up." - -"Yes, I know him." - -"Where did you know him?" - -"In the pen." - -It was all clear now, the presence of Ball, the newspapers' promise of a -sensation, the doom that had hung in the atmosphere that morning. -Marriott watched the convict first with loathing, then with pity, as he -realized the fact that when this man had spoken the one word "life"--he -had meant "death"--a long, lingering death, drawn out through -meaningless days and months and years, blank and barren, a waste in -which this one incident, this railroad journey in chains, this temporary -reassertion of personality, this brief distinction in the crowded -court-room, this hour of change, of contact with free men, were -circumstances to occupy his vacant mind during the remaining years of -his misery, until his death should end and life once more come to him. - -"And now, Mr. Griscom," Eades was saying with a respect that was a -mockery, "tell the jury just what Koerner said to you about Detective -Kouka." - -The convict hesitated, his chin sank into the upright collar of his -jacket, his eyes roved over the floor, he crossed, uncrossed and -recrossed his legs, picked at his cap nervously. - -"Just tell the jury," urged Eades. - -The convict stiffly raised his bony hand to his blue lips to stifle the -cough in which lay his only hope of release. - -"I don't just--" He stopped. - -The crowd strained forward. The jury glanced uneasily from Griscom to -Eades, and back to Griscom again. And then there was a stir. Ball was -sidling over from the clerk's desk to a chair Bentley wheeled forward -for him, and as he sank into it, he fixed his eyes on Griscom. The -convict shifted uneasily, took down his hand, coughed loosely and -swallowed painfully, his protuberant larynx rising and falling. - -"Just give Koerner's exact words," urged Eades. - -"Well, he said he had it in for Kouka, and was going to croak him when -he got home." - -"What did he mean by 'croak,' if you know?" - -"Kill him. He said he was a dead shot--he'd learned it in the army." - -"How many times did you talk with him?" - -"Oh, lots of times--every time we got a chance. Sometimes in the bolt -shop, sometimes in the hall when we had permits." - -"What else, if anything, did he say about Kouka?" - -"Oh, he said Kouka'd been laggin' him, and he was goin' to get him. He -talked about it pretty much all the time." - -"Is that all?" - -"That's about all, yes, sir." - -"Take the witness." - -Griscom, evidently relieved, had started to leave the chair, and as he -moved he drew his palm across a gray brow that suddenly broke out in -repulsive little drops of perspiration. - -"One moment, Griscom," said Marriott, "I'd like to ask you a few -questions." - -The court was very still, and every one hung with an interest equal to -Marriott's on the convict's next words. Griscom found all this interest -too strong; his pallid lips were parted; he drew his breath with -difficulty, his chest was moving with automatic jerks; presently he -coughed. - -Marriott began to question the convict about his conversations with -Archie. He did this in the belief that while Archie had no doubt -breathed his vengeance against Kouka, his words, under the -circumstances, were not to be given that dreadful significance which now -they were made to assume. He could imagine that they had been uttered -idly, and that they bore no real relation to his shooting of Kouka. But -the difficulty was to make this clear to the crystallized, stupid and -formal minds of the jury, or rather to Broadwell, who was the jury. He -tried to induce Griscom to describe the circumstances under which Archie -had made these threats, but Griscom was almost as stupid as the jurors, -and the law was more stupid than either, for Griscom in his effort to -meet the questions was continually making answers that involved his own -conclusions, and to them Eades always objected, and Glassford always -sustained the objections. And Marriott experienced the same sensations -that he had when Quinn was testifying. There was no way to reproduce -Archie's manner--his tone, his expression, the look in his eyes. - -To hide his chagrin, Marriott wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, -leaned over and consulted his notes. - -"A life is a long time, isn't it, Griscom?" he resumed, gently now. - -"Yes." Griscom's chin fell to his breast. - -"And the penitentiary is not a good place to be?" - -Griscom looked up with the first flash of real spirit he had displayed. - -"I wouldn't send a dog there, Mr. Marriott!" - -"No," said Marriott, "and you'd like to get out?" - -"Sure." - -"You've applied for a pardon?" - -"Yes." - -Marriott's heart was beating fast. At last he had a hope. He could -hear the ticking of the big clock on the wall, he could catch the faint -echoes of his voice against the high ceiling of the room whose acoustic -properties were so poor, he could hear the very breathing of the crowd -behind him. - -"Mr. Griscom," said Marriott, wondering if that were the right question, -longing for some inspiration that would be the one infallible test for -this situation, "did you report to the authorities these remarks of -Koerner's at the time he made them?" - -Griscom hesitated. - -"No, sir," he answered. - -"Why not?" - -"I didn't think it necessary." - -"Why didn't you think it necessary?" - -"Well--I didn't." - -"Was it because you didn't think Archie was in earnest--because his -words were not serious?" - -"I didn't think it necessary." - -Marriott wondered whether to press him further--he was on dangerous -ground. - -"To whom did you first mention them?" - -"To the deputy warden." - -"This man here?" Marriott waved his hand at Ball with a contempt he was -not at all careful to conceal. - -"Yes, sir." - -"When was that?" - -"Oh, about a month ago." - -"After Kouka's death?" - -"Yes." - -"Griscom," said Marriott, risking his whole case on the words, and the -silence in the room deepened until it throbbed like a profound pain, -"when Ball came to tell you to testify as you have against Archie, he -promised to get you a pardon, did he not?" - -Eades was on his feet. - -"There is no evidence here that Ball went to the witness," he cried. He -was angry; his face was very red. - -Marriott smiled. - -"Let the witness answer," he said. - -"The question is improper," said Glassford. - -"Is it not a fact, Griscom, that Ball made you some promise to induce -you to testify as you have?" - -Griscom hesitated, his eyes were already wavering, and Marriott felt an -irresistible impulse to follow them. Slowly the convict's glance turned -toward Ball, sitting low in his chair, one leg hung over the other, a -big foot dangling above the floor. His arm was thrust straight out -before him, his hand grasped his cane, his attitude was apparently -careless and indifferent, but the knuckles of the hand that held the -cane were white, and his eyes, peering from their narrow slits, were -fastened in a steady, compelling stare on Griscom. The convict looked an -instant and then he said, still looking at Ball: - -"No, it isn't." - -The convict had a sudden fit of coughing. He fumbled frantically in the -breast of his jacket, then clapped his hand to his mouth; his face was -blue, his eyes were staring; presently between his fingers there -trickled a thin bright stream of blood. Ball got up and tenderly helped -the convict from the chair and the court-room. And Marriott knew that -he had lost. - -Yes, Marriott knew that he had lost and he felt himself sinking into the -lethargy of despair. The atmosphere of the trial had become more -inimical; he found it hard to contain himself, hard to maintain that air -of unconcern a lawyer must constantly affect. He found it hard to look -at Eades, who seemed suddenly to have a new buoyancy of voice and -manner. In truth, Eades had been uncertain about Griscom, but now that -the convict had given his testimony and all had gone well for Eades and -his side, Eades was immensely relieved. He felt that the turning point -in the great game had been passed. But it would not do to display any -elation; he must take it all quite impersonally, and in every way -conduct himself as a fearless, disinterested official, and not as a -human being at all. Eades felt, of course, that this result was due to -his own sagacity, his own skill as a lawyer, his generalship in -marshaling his evidence; he felt the crowd behind him to be mere -spectators, whose part it was to look on and applaud; he did not know -that this result was attributable to those mysterious, transcendental -impulses of the human passions, moving in an irresistible current, -sweeping him along and the jury and the judge, and bearing Archie to his -doom. But Eades was so encouraged that he decided to call another -witness he had been uncertainly holding in reserve. He had had his -doubts about this witness as he had had them about Griscom, but now -these doubts were swept away by that same occult force. - -"Swear Uri Marsh." - -There was the usual wait, the stillness, the suspended curiosity, and -then Bentley came in, leading an old man. This old man was cleanly -shaven, his hair was white, and he wore a new suit of ready-made -clothes. The cheap and paltry garments seemed to shrink away from the -wasted form they fitted so imperfectly, grudgingly lending themselves, -as for this occasion only, to the purpose of restoring and disguising -their disreputable wearer. Beneath them it was quite easy to detect the -figure of dishonorable poverty that in another hour or another day would -step out of them and resume its appropriate rags and tatters, to flutter -on and lose itself in the squalid streets of the city where it would -wander alone, abandoned by all, even by the police. - -As Archie recognized this man, his face went white even to the lips. -Marriott looked at him, but the only other sign of feeling Archie gave -was in the swelling and tightening of the cords of his neck. He -swallowed as if in pain, and seemed about to choke. Marriott spoke, but -he did not hear. Strangely enough, it did not seem to Marriott to -matter. - -This witness, like Griscom, had been a convict, like Griscom he had -known Archie in prison; he and Archie had been released the same day, -and he had come back to town with Archie. - -"What did he say?" the old man was repeating Eades's question; he always -repeated each question before he answered it--"what did he say? Well, -sir, he said, so he did, he said he was going to kill a detective here. -That's what he said, sir. I wouldn't lie to you, no, sir, not me--I -wouldn't lie--no, sir." - -"That will do," said Eades. "Now tell us, Mr. Marsh, what, if anything, -Koerner said to Detective Quinn in your presence?" - -"What'd he say to Detective Quinn? What'd he say to Detective Quinn? -Well, sir," the old man paused and spat out his saliva, "he said the -same thing." - -"Just give his words." - -"His words? Well, sir, he said he was going to kill that fellow--that -detective--what's his name? You know his name." - -The garrulous old fellow ran on. There was something ludicrous in it -all; the crowd became suddenly merry; it seemed to feel such a gloating -sense of triumph that it could afford amusement. The old man in the -witness-chair enjoyed it immensely, he laughed too, and spat and laughed -again. - -It was with difficulty that Marriott and Eades and Glassford got him to -recognize Marriott's right to cross-examine him, and when at last the -idea pierced its way to his benumbed and aged mind, he hesitated, as the -old do before a new impression, and then sank back in his chair. His -face all at once became impassive, almost imbecile. And he utterly -refused to answer any of Marriott's questions. Marriott put them to him -again and again, in the same form and in different forms, but the old -man sat there and stared at him blankly. Glassford took the witness in -hand, finally threatened him with imprisonment for contempt. - -"Now you answer or go to jail," said Glassford, with the most impressive -sternness he could command. - -Then Marriott said again: - -"I asked you where you had been staying since you came to town and who -provided for you?" - -The old man looked at him an instant, a peculiar cunning stole gradually -into his swimming eyes, and then slowly he lifted his right hand to his -face. His middle finger was missing, and thrusting the stump beneath -his nose, he placed his index finger to his right eye, his third finger -to his left, drew down the lower lids until their red linings were -revealed, and then he wiggled his thumb and little finger. - -The court-room burst into a roar, the laughter pealed and echoed in the -high-ceiled room, even the jurymen, save Broadwell, permitted themselves -wary smiles. The bailiff sprang up and pounded with his gavel, and -Glassford, his face red with fury, shouted: - -"Mr. Sheriff, take the witness to jail! And if this demonstration does -not instantly cease, clear the courtroom!" - -The _contretemps_ completed Marriott's sense of utter humiliation and -defeat. As if it were not enough to be beaten, he now suffered the -chagrin of having been made ridiculous. He was oblivious to everything -but his own misery and discomfiture; he forgot even Archie. Bentley and -a deputy were hustling the offending old man from the court-room, and he -shambled between them loosely, grotesquely, presenting the miserable, -demoralizing and pathetic spectacle that age always presents when it has -dishonored itself. - -As they were dragging the old man past Archie, his feet scuffling and -dragging like those of a paralytic, Archie spoke: - -"Why, Dad!" he said. - -In his tone were all disappointment and reproach. - -The incident was over, but try as they would, Glassford, Eades, Lamborn, -Marriott, all the attachés and officials of the court could not restore -to the tribunal its lost dignity. This awesome and imposing structure -mankind has been ages in rearing, this institution men had thought to -make something more than themselves, at the grotesque gesture of one of -its poorest, meanest, oldest and most miserable victims, had suddenly -collapsed, disintegrated into its mere human entities. Unconsciously -this aged imbecile had taken a supreme and mighty revenge on the -institution that had bereft him of his reason and his life; it could not -resist the shock; it must pause to reconstruct itself, to resume its -lost prestige, and men were glad when Glassford, with what solemnity he -could command, told the bailiff to adjourn court. - - - - - XVII - - -At six o'clock on the evening of the day the State rested, Marriott -found himself once more at the jail. He passed the series of grated -cells from which their inmates peered with the wistful look common to -prisoners, and paused before Archie's door. He could see only the boy's -muscular back bowed over the tiny table, slowly dipping chunks of bread -into his pan of molasses, eating his supper silently and humbly. The -figure was intensely pathetic to Marriott. He gazed a moment in the -regret with which one gazes on the dead, struck down in an instant by -some useless accident. "And yet," he thought, "it is not done, there is -still hope. He must be saved!" - -"Hello, Archie!" he said, forcing a cheerful tone. - -Archie started, pushed back his chair, drew his hand across his mouth to -wipe away the crumbs, and thrust it through the bars. - -"Don't let me keep you from your supper," said Marriott. - -Archie smiled a wan smile. - -"That's all right," he said. "It isn't much of a supper, and I ain't -exactly hungry." - -Archie grasped the bars above his head and leaned his breast against the -door. - -"Well, what do you think of it, Mr. Marriott?" - -"I don't know, Archie." - -"Looks as if I was the fall guy all right." - -Marriott bit his lip. - -"We have to put in our evidence in the morning, you know." - -"Yes." - -"And we must decide whether you're going on the stand or not." - -"I'll leave it to you, Mr. Marriott." - -Marriott thought a moment. - -"What do you think about it?" he asked presently. - -"I don't know. You see, I've got a record." - -"Yes, but they already know you've been in prison." - -"Sure, but my taking the stand would make the rap harder. That fellow -Eades would tear me to pieces." - -Marriott was silent. - -"And then that old hixer on the jury, that wise guy up there in the -corner." Archie shook his head in despair. "Every time he pikes me -off, I know he's ready to hand it all to me." - -"You mean Broadwell?" - -"Yes. He's one of those church-members. That's a bad sign, a bad -sign." Archie shook his head sadly. "No, it's a kangaroo all right, -they're going to job me." Archie hung his head. "Of course, Mr. -Marriott, I know you've done your best. You're the only friend I got, -and I wish--I wish there was some way for me to pay you. I can't -promise you, like some of these guys, that I'll work and pay you when I -get--" He looked up with a sadly humorous and appreciative smile. "Of -course, I--" - -"Don't, Archie!" said Marriott. "Don't talk that way. That part of -it's all right. Cheer up, my boy, cheer up!" Marriott was trying so -hard to cheer up himself. "We haven't played our hand yet; we'll give -'em a fight. There are higher courts, and there's always the governor." - -Archie shook his head. - -"Maybe you won't believe me, Mr. Marriott, but I'd rather go to the -chair than take life down there. You don't know what that place is, Mr. -Marriott." - -"No," said Marriott, "but I can imagine." - -Then he changed his tone. - -"We've plenty of time to talk about all that," he went on. "Now we must -talk about to-morrow. Look here, Archie. Why can't you go on the stand -and tell your whole story--just as you've told it to me a hundred times? -It convinced me the first time I heard it; maybe it would convince the -jury. They'd see that you had cause to kill Kouka!" - -"Cause!" exclaimed the boy. "Great God! After the way he hounded me--I -should say so! Why, Mr. Marriott, he made me do it, he made me what I -am. Don't you see that?" - -"Of course I do. And why can't you tell them so?" Marriott was -enthusiastic with his new hope. - -"Oh, well," said Archie with no enthusiasm at all, "with you it's -different. You look at things different; you can see things; you know -there's some good in me, don't you?" - -It was an appeal that touched Marriott, and yet he felt powerless to -make the boy see how deeply it touched him. - -"And then," Archie went on--he talked with an intense earnestness and he -leaned so close that Marriott could smell the odor of coffee on his -breath--"when I talk to you, I know somehow that--well--you believe me, -and we're sitting down, just talking together with no one else around. -But there in that court-room, with all those people ready to tear my -heart out and eat it, and the beak--Glassford, I mean--and the blokes in -the box, and Eades ready to twist everything I say; well, what show have -I got? You can see for yourself, Mr. Marriott." - -Archie spread his hands wide to show the hopelessness of it all. - -"Well, I think you'd better try, anyhow. Will you think it over?" - - - - - XVIII - - -Marriott heard the commotion as he entered the elevator the next -morning, and as the cage ascended, the noise increased. He heard the -click of heels, the scuff of damp soles on the marble, and then the -growl of many men, angry, beside themselves, possessed by their lower -natures. The chorus of rough voices had lost its human note and sunk to -the ugly register of the brutish. Drawing nearer, he distinguished -curses and desperate cries. And there in the half-light at the end of -the long corridor, the crowd swayed this way and that, struggling, -scrambling, fighting. Hats were knocked off and spun in the air; now -and then an arm was lifted out of the mass; now and then a white fist -was shaken above the huddle of heads. Two deputy sheriffs, Hersch and -Cumrow, were flattened against the doors of the criminal court, their -faces trickling with sweat, their waistcoats torn open; and they -strained mightily. The crowd surged against them, threatening to press -the breath out of their bodies. They paused, panting from their efforts, -then tried again to force back the crowd, shouting: - -"Get back there, damn you! Get back!" - -Marriott slipped through a side door into the judge's chamber. The room -was filled. Glassford, Eades, Lamborn, all the attachés of the court -were there. Bentley, the sheriff, had flung up a window, and stood there -fanning himself with his broad-brimmed hat, disregarding exposure, his -breath floating in vapor out of the window. On the low leather lounge -where Glassford took his naps sat Archie close beside Danner. When he -saw Marriott a wan smile came to his white face. - -"They tried to get at me!" The phrase seemed sufficient to him to -explain it all, and at the same time to express his own surprise and -consternation in it all. - -"They tried to get at me!" Archie repeated in another tone, expressing -another meaning, another sensation, a wholly different thought. The -boy's lips were drawn tightly across his teeth; he shook with fear. - -"They tried to get at me!" he repeated, in yet another tone. - -Old Doctor Bitner, the jail physician, had come with a tumbler half-full -of whisky and water. - -"Here, Archie," he said, "try a sip of this. You'll be all right in a -minute." - -"He's collapsed," the physician whispered to Marriott, as Archie -snatched the glass and gulped down the whisky, making a wry face, and -shuddering as if the stuff sickened him. - -"I'm all in, Mr. Marriott," said Archie. "I've gone to pieces. I'm -down and out. It's no use." He hung his head, as if ashamed of his -weakness. - -"Well, you know, my boy, that we must begin. It's up to us now. Can -you take the stand?" - -"No! No!" Archie shook his head with emphasis. "I can't! I can't! -That fellow Eades would tear me to pieces!" - -Marriott argued, expostulated, pleaded, but in vain. The boy only shook -his head and said over and over, each time with a new access of terror: - -"No, Eades would tear me to pieces." - -"Come on, Gordon," called Glassford, who had finished his cigar, "we -can't wait any longer." - - -The following morning, the defense having put in its evidence and -rested, Lamborn began the opening argument for the State. It had long -been Lamborn's ambition to make a speech that would last a whole day. -He had made copious notes, and when he succeeded in speaking a full -half-hour without referring to them, he was greatly encouraged. When he -was compelled finally to succumb, and consult his notes, he began to -review the evidence, that is, he repeated what the witnesses had already -told. After that he began to fail noticeably in ideas and frequently -glanced at the clock, but he thought of the statutes, and he read to the -jury the laws defining murder in the first degree, murder in the second -degree, and manslaughter, and then declaring that the crime Archie had -committed was clearly murder in the first degree, he closed by urging -the jury to find him guilty of this crime. - -In the afternoon Pennell opened the arguments for the defense. Having -won the oratorical contest at college, and having once been spoken of in -print as the silver-tongued, Pennell pitched his voice in the highest -key, and soon filled the court-room with a prodigious noise; he had not -spoken fifteen minutes before he had lashed himself into a fury, and -with each new, fresh burst of enthusiasm, he raised his hoarse voice -higher and higher, until the throats of his hearers ached in sympathy. -But at the end of two hours he ceased to wave his arms, no longer struck -the bar of the jury-box with his fist, the strain died away, and he sank -into his chair, his hair disheveled, his brow and neck and wrists -glistening with perspiration, utterly exhausted, but still wearing the -oratorical scowl. - -All this time Eades and Marriott were lying back in their chairs, in the -attitudes of counsel who are reserving themselves for the great and -telling efforts of the trial, that is, the closing arguments. When -Marriott arose the next morning to begin his address, the silence was -profound. He looked about him, at Glassford, at Eades, at the crowd, -straining with curious, gleaming eyes. In the overflowing line of men -within the bar on either side of the jury-box he recognized several -lawyers; their faces were white against the wall; they seemed strange, -unnatural, out of place. The jury were uneasy and glanced away, and -though Broadwell lifted his small eyes to him, it was without response -or sympathy. Marriott was chilled by the patent opposition. Then, -somehow, he detected old man Reder stealing a glance at Archie; he kept -his eye on Reder. What was Reder thinking of? "Thinking, I suppose," -thought Marriott, "that this settles it, and that there is nothing to do -now but to send Archie to the chair." - -Reder, however, in that moment was really thinking of his boyhood in -Germany, where his father had been a judge like Glassford; one day he -had found among the papers on his father's desk the statement of a case. -An old peasant had accidentally set fire to a forest on an estate and -burned up wood to the value of forty marks, for this he was being tried. -He felt sorry for the peasant and had begged his father to let him go. -When he came home at night he asked his father-- - -Marriott made an effort, mastered himself; he thought of Archie, leaning -forward eagerly, his eyes fixed on him with their last hope. He had a -vision of Archie as he had seen him in the jail--he saw again the supple -play of his muscles under the white skin of his breast, full of health, -of strength, of life--kill him? It was monstrous! A passion swelled -within him; he would speak for him, he would speak for old man Koerner, -for Gusta, for all the voiceless, submerged poor in the world.... He -began.... Some one was sobbing.... He glanced about. It was old Mrs. -Koerner, in tears, the first she had shed during the trial.... Archie -was looking at her.... He was making an effort, but tears were -glistening in the corners of his eyes.... - -It was over at last. He had done all he could. Men were crowding about -him, congratulating him--Pennell, Bentley, his friends among the -lawyers, Glassford, and, yes, even Eades. - -"I never heard you do better, Gordon," said Eades. - -Marriott thanked him. But then Eades could always be depended on to do -the correct thing. - - -All that afternoon Archie sat there and listened to Eades denouncing -him. When Marriott had finished his speech, Archie had felt a happiness -and a hope--but now there was no hope. Eades was, indeed, tearing him -to pieces. How long must he sit there and be game, and endure this -thing? Would it never end? Could Eades speak on for ever and for ever -and never cease his abuse and denunciation? Would it end with -evening--if evening ever came? No; evening came, but Eades had not -finished. Morning came, and Eades spoke on and on. He was speaking -some strange words; they sounded like the words the mission stiffs used; -they must be out of the Bible. He noticed that Broadwell was very -attentive. - -"He'll soon be done now, Archie," whispered Marriott, giving him a -little pat on the knee; "when they quote Scripture, that's a sign--" - -Yes, he had finished; this was all; soon it would be over and he would -know. - -The jurymen were moving in their seats; but there was yet more to be -done. The judge must deliver his charge, and the jurors settled down -again to listen to Glassford with even greater respect than they had -shown Eades. - -During the closing sentences of Eades's speech Glassford had drawn some -papers from a drawer and arranged them on his desk. These papers -contained portions of charges he had made in other criminal cases. -Glassford motioned to the bailiff, who bore him a glass of iced water, -from which Glassford took a sip and set it before him, as if he would -need it and find it useful in making his charge. Then he took off his -gold eye-glasses, raised his eyebrows two or three times, drew out a -large handkerchief and began polishing his glasses as if that were the -most important business of his life. He breathed on the lenses, then -polished them, then breathed again, and polished again. - -Glassford had selected those portions of the charges he kept in stock, -which assured the jury of the greatness of the English law, told how -they must consider a man innocent until he had been proved guilty beyond -a reasonable doubt, that they must not draw any conclusions unfavorable -to the prisoner at the bar from the fact that he had not taken the -witness-stand, and so on. These instructions were written in long, -involved sentences, composed as nearly as possible of words of Latin -derivation. Glassford read them slowly, but so as to give the -impression that it was an extemporaneous production. - -The jurymen, though many of them did not know the meaning of the words -Glassford used, thought they all sounded ominous and portentous, and -seemed to suggest Archie's guilt very strongly. For half an hour -Glassford read from his instructions, from the indictment and from the -statutes, then suddenly recalling the fact that the public was greatly -interested in this case, he began to talk of the heinousness of this -form of crime and the sacredness of human life. In imagination he could -already see the editorials that would be printed in the newspapers, -praising him for his stand, and this, he reflected, would be beneficial -to him in his campaign for renomination and reelection. Finally he told -the jurymen that they must not be affected by motives of sympathy or -compassion or pity for the prisoner at the bar or his family, for they -had nothing to do with the punishment that would be inflicted upon him. -Then he read the various verdicts to them, casually mentioning the -verdict of "not guilty" in the tone of an after-thought and as a -contingency not likely to occur, and then told them, at last, that they -could retire. - -At five o'clock the jury stumbled out of the box and entered the little -room to the left. - - - - - XIX - - -It was four o'clock in the morning, and the twelve men who were to -decide Archie's fate were still huddled in the jury room. For eleven -hours they had been there, balloting, arguing, disputing, quarreling, -and then balloting again. Time after time young Menard had passed -around his hat for the little scraps of paper, and always the result was -the same, eleven for conviction, one for acquittal. For a while after -the jury assembled there had been three votes for conviction of murder -in the second degree, but long ago, as it seemed at that hour, these -three votes had been won over for conviction of murder in the first -degree, which meant death. At two o'clock Broadwell had declared that -there was no use in wasting more time in voting, and for two hours no -ballot had been taken. The electric lamps had glowed all night, filling -the room with a fierce light, which, at this hour of the winter morning, -had taken on an unnatural glare. The air was vitiated, and would have -sickened one coming from outside, but these men, whose lungs had been -gradually accustomed to it, were not aware how foul it was. Once or -twice in the night some one had thrown up a window, but the older men -had complained of the cold, and the window had to be closed down again. -In that air hung the dead odor of tobacco smoke, for in the earlier -hours of the night most of the men--all, indeed, save Broadwell--had -smoked, some of them cigars, some pipes. But now they were so steeped -in bodily weariness and in physical discomfort and misery that none of -them smoked any longer. On the big oaken table in the middle of the -room Menard's hat lay tilted on its side, and all about lay the ballots. -Ballots, too, strewed the floor and filled the cuspidors, little scraps -of paper on which was scribbled for the most part the one word, -"Guilty," the same word on all of them, though not always spelled the -same. One man wrote it "Gildy," another "Gilty," still another -"Gility." But among all those scattered scraps there was a series of -ballots, the sight of which angered eleven of the men, and drove them to -profanity; on this series of ballots was written "Not guilty." The -words were written in an invariable, beautiful script, plainly the -chirography of some German. - -It was evident that in this barren room, with its table and twelve -chairs, its high blank walls and lofty ceiling, a mighty conflict had -been waged. But now at the mystic hour when the tide of human forces is -at its farthest ebb, the men had become exhausted, and they sat about in -dejected attitudes of lassitude and weariness, their brains and souls -benumbed. Young Menard had drawn his chair up to the table and thrown -his head forward on his arms. He was wholly spent, his brow was bathed -with clammy perspiration, and a nausea had seized him. His mind was too -tired to work longer, and he was only irritably conscious of some -unpleasant interruption when any one spoke. The old men had suffered -greatly from the confinement; the long night in that miserable little -room, without comforts, had accentuated their various diseases, all the -latent pains and aches of age had been awakened, and now, at this low -hour, they had lost the sense of time and place, the trial seemed far -away in the past, there was no future, and they could but sit there and -suffer dumbly. In one corner Osgood had tilted back a chair and fallen -asleep. He sprawled there, his head fallen to one side, his wide-open -mouth revealing his throat; his face was bathed in sweat, and he snored -horribly. - -In another corner sat Broadwell, his hands folded across his paunch. -The flesh on his fat face had darkened, beneath his eyes were deep blue -circles and he looked very old. He had been elected foreman, of course, -and early in the evening had made long and solemn addresses to the jury, -the same kind of addresses he delivered to his Bible-class--instructive, -patronizing, every one of his arguments based on some hackneyed and -obvious moral premise. Particularly was this the case, when, as had -befallen early in the evening, they had discussed the death penalty. -This subject roused him to a high degree of anger, and he raged about -it, defended the practice of capital punishment, then, growing calm, -spoke of it reverently and as if, indeed, it were a sacrament like -baptism, or the Lord's Supper, quoting from the ninth chapter of -Genesis. Old Reder had opposed him, and Broadwell had demanded of him -to know what he would wish to have done to a man who killed his wife, -for instance. Reder, quite insensible to the tribute implied in the -suggestion that his action would furnish the standard for all action in -such an emergency, had for a while maintained that he would not wish to -have the man put to death, but Broadwell had insisted that he would, had -quoted the ninth chapter of Genesis again, shaken his head, puffed, and -angrily turned away from Reder. One by one he had beaten down the wills -of the other jurors. He was tenacious and stubborn, and he had -conquered them all--all but old Reder, who paced the floor, his hands in -the side pockets of his short jacket. His shaggy white brows were knit -in a permanent scowl, and now and then he gathered portions of his gray -beard into his mouth and chewed savagely. He was the one, of course, -who had been voting for acquittal; his was the hand that had written in -that Continental script those dissenting words, "Not guilty." - -When this became known, the others had gathered round him, trying to -beat him down, and finally, giving way to anger, had shaken their fists -in his face, reviled him, and called him ugly names. But all the while -he had shaken his head and shouted: - -"No! no! no! no!" - -For a while he had argued against Archie's guilt, then against the -methods of the police, at last, had begged for mercy on the boy. But -this last appeal only made them angry. - -"Mercy!" they said. "Did he show that old woman any mercy?" - -"He isn't being triedt for der old woman," said Reder. "Dot's what the -chudge saidt." - -"Well, then. Did he show Kouka any mercy?" - -"Bah!" shouted Reder. "Did Kouka show him any?" - -"But Kouka"--they insisted. - -"_Ach_! To hell mit all o' you!" cried Reder, and began to stalk the -floor. - -"The Dutch dog!" said one. - -"The stubborn brute!" grumbled another. "Keeping us all up here, and -making us lose our sleep!" - -"I tell you," said another, "the jury system ought to be changed, so's a -majority would rule!" - -"It's no use, it's no use," Reder said in a high petulant voice; "you -only make me vorse; you only make me vorse!" He held his hands up and -shook them loosely, his fingers vibrating with great rapidity. - -Then it was still for a long while--but in the dark and empty -court-room, where the bailiff slept on one of the seats, sharp, -unnatural, cracking noises were heard now and then; and from it emanated -the strange weird influence of the night and darkness. Through the -window they looked on the court-house yard lying cold and white under -the blaze of the electric lamps. The wind swept down the bleak deserted -street. Once they heard a policeman's whistle. Osgood was snoring -loudly. - -"Great God!" shouted Duncan irritably. "Can't some of you make him stop -that?" - -Church got up and gave Osgood's chair a rude kick. - -"Huh?" Osgood started up, staring about wildly. Then he came to his -senses, looked around, understood, fell back and went to sleep again. - -And Reder tramped up and down, and Broadwell sat and glared at him, and -the others waited. Reder was thinking of that time of his boyhood in -Germany when the old peasant had been tried for setting the wood afire. -The whole scene had come back to him, and he found a fascination in -recalling one by one every detail, until each stood out vividly and -distinctly in his mind. He paced on, until, after a while, Broadwell -spoke again. - -"Mr. Reder," he said, "I don't see how you can assume the position you -do." - -"It's no use, I tol' you; no use!" - -"But look here," Broadwell insisted, getting up and trying to stop -Reder. He took him by the lapel of his coat, forced him to stand an -instant, and when Reder yielded, and stood still, the other jurors -looked up with some hope. - -"Tell me why--" - -"I don't _vant_ to have him killedt, I tol' you." - -"But it isn't killing; it isn't the same." - -"Bah! Nonsense!" roared Reder. - -"It's the law." - -"I don't gare for der law. We say he don't die--he don't die den, ain't -it?" - -"But it's the _law_!" protested Broadwell, thinking to add new stress to -his argument by placing new stress on the word. "How can we do -otherwise?" - -"How? Chust by saying not guildy, dot's how." - -"But how can we do that?" - -"Chust _do_ it, dot's how!" - -"But it's the law,--the _law_!" - -"Damn der _law_!" roared Reder, resuming his walk. And Broadwell stood -looking at him, in horror, as if he had blasphemed. - -There was silence again, save for Osgood's snoring. Then suddenly, no -one knew how, the argument broke out anew. - -"How do we know?" some one was saying. It was Grey; his conviction was -shaken again. - -"Know?" said Church. "Don't we know?" - -"How do we?" - -"Well--I don't know, only--" - -"Yes, only." - -"You ain't going back on us now, I hope?", - -"No, but--" Grey shook his head. - -"Well, you heard what the judge said." - -They could always appeal to what the judge had said, as if he spoke with -some authority that was above all others. - -"What'd he say?" asked Grey. - -"Why--he said--what was that there word now?" - -"What word?" - -"That word he used--refer--no that wasn't it, let's see." - -"Infer?" suggested Broadwell. - -"Sure! That's it! Infer! He said infer." - -"By God! I guess that's right! He did say that." - -"Course," Church went on triumphantly. "Infer! He said infer, and that -means we can infer it, don't it?" - -Just at that minute a pain, sharp and piercing, shot through Reder's -back. He winced, made a wry face, stopped, stooped to a senile posture -and clapped his hand to his back. His heart suddenly sank--there it was -again, his old trouble. That meant bad things for him; now, as likely -as not, he'd be laid up all winter; probably he couldn't sit on the jury -any more; surely not if that old trouble came back on him. And how -would he and his old wife get through the winter? Instantly he forgot -everything else. What time was it, he wondered? This being up all -night; he could not stand that. - -As from a distance he heard the argument going on. At first he felt no -relation to it, but this question must be settled some way. The pain -had ceased, but it would come back again. He straightened up slowly, -gradually, with extreme care, his hand poised in readiness to clap to -his back again; He turned about by minute degrees and said: - -"What's dot you saidt?" - -"Why," began Church, but just then Reder winced again; clapped his hand -to his back, doubled up, his face was contorted. He was evidently -suffering tortures, but he made no outcry. Church sprang toward him. - -"Get him some water,--here!" - -Chisholm punched young Menard; he got up, and pushed the big white -porcelain water pitcher across the table. But Reder waved it aside. - -"Nefer mind," he said. "What was dot you vas sayin' a minute back?" - -"Why, Mr. Reder, we said the judge said we could infer. Don't you -remember?" - -Church looked into his face hopefully, and waited. - -Broadwell got slowly to his feet, and moved toward the little group -deliberately, importantly, as if he alone could explain. - -"Here, have my chair, Mr. Reder," said Broadwell with intense -politeness. - -"No, nefer mind," said Reder, afraid to move. - -"What the judge said," Broadwell began, "was simply this. He said that -if it was to be inferred from all the facts and circumstances adduced in -evidence--" - -"Besides," Church broke in, "that old woman said he _was_ the fellow, -down at the police station--it was in the paper, don't you remember?" - -"Oh, but the judge said we wasn't to pay attention to anything like -that," said Grey. - -"Well, but he said we could infer, didn't he?" - -"Just let me speak, please," insisted Broadwell, "His Honor went on to -say--" he had just recalled that that was the proper way to speak of a -judge, and then, the next instant, he remembered that it was also proper -to call the judge "the Court," and he was anxious to use both of these -phrases. "That is, the Court said--" And he explained the meaning of -the word "infer." - -Reder was listening attentively, his head bent, his hand resting on his -hip. Broadwell talked on, in his low insinuating tone. Reder made no -reply. After a while, Broadwell, his eyes narrowing, said softly, -gently: - -"Gentlemen, shall we not try another ballot?" - -Menard got up wearily, his hat in readiness again. The jurors began -rummaging among the scraps for ballots. - - -A street-car was just scraping around the curve at the corner, its -wheels sending out a shrill, grinding noise. - -"Great heavens!" exclaimed McCann, taking out his watch, "it's five -thirty! Morning! We've been here all night!" - -Outside the city was still wrapped in a soft thick darkness. Eades was -sleeping soundly; his mother, when she kissed him good night, had patted -his head, saying, "My dear, brave boy." Marriott had just sunk into a -troubled doze. Glassford was snoring loudly in his warm chamber; -Koerner and his wife were kneeling on their bed, their hands clasped, -saying a prayer in German, and over in the jail, Archie was standing -with his face pressed against the cold bars of his cell, looking out -across the corridor, watching for the first streak of dawn. - - - - - XX - - -Marriott awoke with a start when the summons came. The jury had agreed; -his heart leaped into his throat. What was the verdict? He had a -confused sense of the time, the world outside was dark; he could have -slept but a few minutes, surely it was not much later than midnight. He -switched on the electric light, and looked at his watch. It was -half-past six--morning. He dressed hurriedly, and went out. - -The clammy air smote him coldly. The day was just breaking, a yellow -haze above the roofs toward the east. He hurried along the damp -pavement, an eager lonely figure in the silent streets; the light spread -gradually, creeping as it were through the heavy air; a fog rolled over -the pavements and the world was cold and gray. An early street-car went -clanging past, filled with working-men. These working-men were happy; -they smoked their pipes and joked--Marriott could hear them, and he -thought it strange that men could be happy anywhere in the world that -morning. But these fancies were not to be indulged with the leisurely -sense in which he usually philosophized on that life of which he was so -conscious; for the court-house loomed huge and portentous in the dawn. -And suddenly the light that was slowly suffusing the ether seemed to -pause; there was a hesitation almost perceptible to the eye in the -descent of morning on the world; it was, to Marriott's imagination, -exactly, as if the sun had suddenly concluded to shine no longer on the -just and the unjust alike, but would await the issue then yeaning -beneath that brooding dome, and see whether men would do justice in the -world. Somewhere, Marriott knew, in that gray and smoky pile, the fate -was waiting, biding its time. What would it be? - -He had remained at the court-house the night before with Pennell and -Lamborn, several of the court officials and attachés, and a dwindling -group of the morbid and the curious. An immediate agreement had been -expected, allowing, of course, for the delay necessary to a preservation -of the decencies, but as the hours dragged by, Marriott's hopes had -risen; each moment increased the chance of an acquittal, of a -disagreement, or of some verdict not so tragic as the one the State had -striven for. His heart had grown lighter. But by midnight he was -wholly exhausted. Intelligence, which knows no walls, had somehow -stolen out from the jury room; there was some eccentricity in this -mighty machine of man, and no immediate agreement was to be expected. -And then Marriott had left, trusting Pennell to remain and represent the -defendant at the announcement of the verdict. It was about the only -duty he felt he could trust to Pennell. And now, hurrying into the -court-house, his hopes rose once more. - -Something after all of the effect of custom was apparent in the -atmosphere of the court-room, where the tribunal was convened thus so -much earlier than its wonted hour. The room was strange and unreal, -haunted in this early morning gloom by the ghosts of the protagonists -who had stalked through it. Glassford was already on the bench, his -eyes swollen, his cheeks puffed. Lamborn was there, in the same clothes -he had worn the day before,--it was plain that he had not had them off -at all. And there, already in the box, sat the jury, blear-eyed, -unkempt, disheveled, demoralized, with traces yet of anger, hatred and -the fury of their combat in their faces, a caricature of that majesty -with which it is to be presumed this institution reaches the solemn -conclusions of the law. And there, at the table, still strewn with the -papers that were the debris of the conflict, sat Archie, the sorry -subject over which men had been for days quarreling and haggling, -harrying and worrying him like a hunted thing. He sat immobile, gazing -through the eastern windows at the waiting and inscrutable dawn of a day -swollen with such tragic possibilities for him. - -Glassford looked sleepily at Marriott as he burst through the doors. -His glance indicated relief; he was glad the conclusion had been reached -at this early hour, even if it had haled him from his warm bed; he was -glad to be able thus to trick the crowd and have the law discharge its -solemn function before the crowd came to view it. - -"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "have you agreed upon a verdict?" - -"We have, your Honor." Broadwell was rising in his place. - -Glassford nodded to the clerk, who walked across the floor, his heels -striking out sharp sounds. Marriott had paused at the little gate in -the railing. He clutched at it, and supported himself in the weakness -that suddenly overwhelmed him. It seemed to him that the clerk took a -whole age in crossing that floor. He waited. Broadwell had handed the -clerk a folded document. The clerk took it and opened it; it fluttered -in his fingers. Now he hastily cast his eye over it, and Marriott -thought: "There still is hope--hope in each infinitesimal portion of a -second as he reads it--" for he was reading now: - -"'We, the jury, impaneled and sworn well and truly to try and true -deliverance make in the cause wherein the State is plaintiff and Archie -Koerner is defendant, for verdict do find and say that we find the -defendant--'" Marriott gasped. The clerk read on: - -"'--guilty as charged in the indictment'." - -"Gentlemen of the jury," said the clerk, folding the paper in his formal -manner, "is this your verdict?" - -"It is," said Broadwell. - -"So say you all." - -There was silence. After a while Marriott controlled himself and said: - -"Your Honor, we demand a poll of the jury." - -Slowly, one after another, the clerk called the names, and one after -another the jurors rose. - -"Is this your verdict?" asked the clerk. - -"Perhaps," thought Marriott as each one rose, "perhaps even now, one -will relent, one will change--one--" - -"It is," each man answered. - -Then Glassford was speaking again--the everlasting formalities, mocking -the very sense of things, thanking the jury, congratulating them, -discharging them. - -And Archie Koerner sat there, never moving, looking through the eastern -window--but now at the dawn no more, for the window was black to his -eyes and the light had gone out of the world. - - - - - XXI - - -Archie sat by the trial table and looked out the window toward the east. -The window from being black became gray again--gray clouds, a scumbled -atmosphere of gray. When the jury came out of the box, after it was all -over, a young clerk in the court-house rushed up to Menard and wrung his -hand in enthusiastic, hysterical congratulation, as if Menard in the -face of heavy opposition had done some brave and noble deed. And Archie -wondered what he had ever done to this young clerk that he should so -have it in for him. Then Marriott was at his side again, but he said -nothing; he only took his hand. - -"Well," thought Archie, "there is one man left in the world who hasn't -got it in for me." And yet there actually seemed to be Danner. For -Danner bent over and whispered: - -"Whenever you're ready, Dutch, we'll go back. Of course--no particular -hurry, but when you're ready." - -Archie wondered what Danner was up to now; usually he ordered them about -like brutes, with curses. - -"You'll be wanting a bite of breakfast," Danner was saying. - -Breakfast! The word was strange. Were people still eating breakfast in -this world, just as if nothing had happened, just as if things were as -they used to be--before--before--what? Before he shot Kouka? No, there -was nothing unusual about that; he didn't care anything about Kouka. -Before the penitentiary and the bull rings? Before the first time in -the workhouse, when that break, that lapse, came into his life? But -breakfast--they would be carrying the little pans about in the jail just -now, and that brought the odor of coffee to his memory. Coffee would -not be a bad thing. - -"Any time," he said to Danner. - -Then they got up and walked away, through the gray morning. - -In the jail, Danner instantly unlocked the handcuffs, and as he jostled -Archie a little in opening the door, he said: - -"Oh, excuse me, Dutch." - -What had got into Danner, anyway? Inside he wondered more. Danner -said: - -"You needn't lock this morning; you can stay in the corridor, and I'll -have your breakfast sent in to you in a moment." - -Then Danner put up his big hand and whispered in Archie's ear: - -"I'll see the cook and get her to sneak in a little cream and sugar for -your coffee." - -Archie could not understand this, nor had he then time to wonder about -it, for he was being turned into the prison, and there, he knew, his -companions were waiting to know the news. Most of them were in their -cells. Two of them, the English thief and Mosey--he could tell it was -Mosey by the striped sweater--were standing in the far end of the -corridor, but they did not even look. He caught a snatch of their -conversation. - -"What was the rap, the dip?" - -"No, penny weightin'." - -They appeared to be talking indifferently and were no more curious--so -one would say--than they would have been if some dinge had been vagged. -And yet Archie knew that every motion, every word, every gesture of his -was important. He tried to walk just as he had always walked. They -waited till Archie was at his cell door, and then some one called in a -tone of suspense that could be withheld no longer: - -"What's the word, Archie?" - -"Touched off," he called, loud enough for them all to hear. He spoke -the words carelessly, almost casually, with great nonchalance. There -was silence, sinister and profound. Then gradually the conversation was -resumed between cell and cell; they were all calling out to him, all -straining to be cheerful and encouraging. - -"That mouthpiece of yours 'll spring you yet," some one said, "down -below." - -Archie listened to their attempts to cheer him, all pathetic enough, -until presently the English thief passed his door, and said in a low -voice: - -"Be gime, me boy." - -That was it! Be game! From this on, that must be his ideal of conduct. -He knew how they would inquire, how some day Mason and old Dillon, how -Gibbs and all the guns and yeggs would ask about this, how the old gang -would ask about it--he must be game. He had made, he thought, a fair -beginning. - -Danner brought the breakfast himself, and good as his word he had got -the cook to put some cream and sugar in his coffee. Not only this, but -the cook had boiled him two eggs--and he hadn't eaten eggs in months. -The last time, he recalled, was when Curly had boiled some in a can--had -Curly, over in another part of the prison, been told? - -Archie thanked Danner and told him to thank the cook. And yet a wonder -possessed him. He had never known kindness in a prison before, save -among the prisoners themselves, and often they were cruel and mean to -each other--like the rats and mission-stiffs who were always snitching -and having them chalked and stood out. Here in this jail, he had never -beheld any kindness, for notwithstanding the fact that nearly every one -there was detained for a trial which was to establish his guilt or -innocence, and the law had a theory that every one was to be presumed -innocent until proved guilty, the sheriff and the jailers treated them -all as if they were guilty, and as if it was their duty to assist in the -punishment. But here was a man who had been declared guilty of a -heinous crime, and was to receive the worst punishment man could bestow, -and yet, suddenly, he was receiving every kindness, almost the first he -had ever known, at least since he had grown up. Having done all they -could to hurry him out of the world, men suddenly apologized by -showering him with attention while he remained. - -When he ate his breakfast Archie felt better,--Mr. Marriott would do -something, he was sure; it was not possible that this thing could happen -to him. - -"Any of youse got the makin's?" he called. - -Instantly, all down the corridor on both sides, the cells' voices rang: - -"Here! Here! Archie! Here, have mine!" - -"Mr. Marriott gave me a whole box yesterday, but I smoked 'em all up in -the night!" he said. - - - - - XXII - - -Those persons in the community who called themselves the good were -gratified by Archie's conviction, and there were at once editorials and -even sermons to express this gratification. Lorenzo Edwards of the -_Courier_, who hated Marriott because he had borrowed ten dollars of -Marriott some years before and had never paid it back, wrote an unctuous -and hypocritical editorial in which he condemned Marriott for carrying -the case up, and deprecated the law's delay. The _Post_--although Archie -had not talked to a reporter--printed interviews with him, and as a -final stroke of enterprise, engaged Doctor Tyler Tilson, the specialist, -to examine Archie for stigmata of degeneracy. Tilson went to jail, -taking with him tape and calipers and other instruments, and after -measuring Archie and percussing him, and lighting matches before his -eyes, and having him walk blindfolded, and pricking him with pins, wrote -a profound article for the _Post_ from the standpoint of criminology, in -which he repeated many scientific phrases, and used the word -"environment," many times, and concluded that Archie had the homicidal -tendency strongly developed. - -The Reverend Doctor Hole, who had his degree from a small college in -Dakota, had taken lessons of an elocutionist, and advertised the -sensational sermons in which he preached against those vices the -refinements and wealth of his own congregation did not tempt them to -commit, spoke on "Crime"; even Modderwell referred to it with -complacency. - -In all of these expressions, of course, Eades was flattered, and this -produced in him a sensation of the greatest comfort and justification. -He felt repaid for all he had suffered in trying the case. But Marriott -felt that an injustice had been done, and, such is the quality of -injustice, that one suspicion of it may tincture every thought until the -complexion of the world is changed and everything appears unjust. As -Marriott read these editorials, the reports of these sermons, and the -conclusions of a heartless science that had thumped Archie as if he were -but a piece of rock for the geologist's hammer, he was filled with -anger, and resolved that Archie should not be put to death until he had -had the advantage of every technicality of the law. He determined to -carry the case up at his own expense. Though he could not afford to do -this, and was staggered when he ran over in his mind the cost of the -transcript of evidence, the transcript of the record, the printing of -the briefs, the railroad and hotel bills, and all that,--he felt it -would be a satisfaction to see one poor man, at least, receive in the -courts all that a rich man may demand. - -Within the three days provided by law, Marriott filed his motion for a -new trial and then he was content to wait, and let the proceedings drag -along. But Eades insisted on an immediate hearing. - -When Glassford had announced his decision denying a new trial, he -hesitated a moment and then, with an effect of gathering himself for an -ordeal, he dropped his judicial manner, called Eades and Marriott to the -bench, leaned over informally, whispered with them, and finally, as if -justifying a decision he had just communicated to them, observed: - -"We might as well do it now and have it over with." - -Then he sent the sheriff for Archie, and the bailiff for a calendar. - -There were few persons in the court-room besides the clerk and the -bailiff, Marriott and Pennell, Eades and Lamborn. It was a bleak day; -outside a mean wind that had been blowing for three days off the lake -swept the streets bare of their refuse and swirled it everywhere in -clouds of filth. The sky was gray, and the cold penetrated to the -marrow; men hurried along with their heads huddled in the collars of -their overcoats--if they had overcoats; they winced and screwed their -faces in the stinging cold, longing for sunshine, for snow, for rain, -for anything to break the monotony of this weather. Within the -court-room the gloom was intensified by the doom that was about to be -pronounced. While they waited, Eades and Lamborn sat at a table, -uneasily moving now and then; Marriott walked up and down; no one spoke. -Glassford was scowling over his calendar, pausing now and then, lifting -his eyes and looking off, evidently making a calculation. - -When Bentley and Danner came at last with Archie, and unshackled him, -Glassford did not look up. He kept his head bowed over his docket; now -and then he looked at his calendar, the leaves of which rattled and -trembled as he turned them over. Then they waited, every one there, in -silence. After a while, Glassford spoke. He spoke in a low voice, into -which at first he did not succeed in putting much strength: - -"Koerner, you may stand up." - -Archie rose promptly, his heels clicked together, his hands dropped -stiffly to his side; he held his head erect, as he came to the military -attitude of attention. But Glassford did not look at him. He was gazing -out of the window again toward that mysterious window across the street. - -"Have you anything to say why the sentence of this court should not be -passed upon you?" he asked presently. - -"No, sir," said Archie. He was looking directly at Glassford, but -Glassford did not look at him. Glassford waited, studying how he should -begin. The reporters were poising their pencils nervously. - -"Koerner," Glassford began, still looking away, "after a fair and -impartial trial before a jury of twelve sworn men you have been found -guilty of the crime of murder in the first degree. The trial was -conducted carefully and deliberately; the jury was composed of honest -and representative men, and you were defended, and all your rights -conserved by able counsel. You have had the benefit of every immunity -known to our law, and yet, after calm deliberation, as the court has -said, you have been found guilty. We have, in addition to that, here -to-day heard a motion for a new trial; we have very carefully reviewed -the evidence and the law in this case, and the court is convinced that -no errors were committed on the trial detrimental to your rights in the -premises or prejudicial to your interests. It now becomes the duty of -the court to pass sentence upon you." - -Glassford paused, removed his glasses, put them on again; and looked out -of the window as before. - -"Fortunately--I say fortunately, for so I feel about it"--he -nodded--"fortunately for me, I have no discretion as to what your -punishment shall be. The law has fixed that; it leaves nothing to me -but to announce its determination. My duty is clear; in a measure, -simple." - -Glassford paused again, sighed faintly, and settled in his chair with -some relief, as if he had succeeded in detaching himself personally from -the situation, and remained now only in his representative judicial -capacity. - -"Still," he went on, speaking in an apologetic tone that betokened a -lingering of his personal identity, "that duty, while clear, is none the -less painful. I would that it had not fallen to my lot." He paused -again, still looking away. "It is a sad and melancholy spectacle--a -young man of your strength and native ability, with your opportunities -for living a good and useful life, standing here to hear the extreme -penalty of the law pronounced upon you. You might have been an -honorable, upright man; you seem, so far as I am able to ascertain, to -have come from a good home, and to have had honest, frugal, industrious -parents. You have had the opportunity of serving your country, you have -had the benefit of the training and discipline of the regular army. You -might have put to some good use the lessons you learned in those places. -And yet, you seem to have wilfully abandoned yourself to a life of -crime. You have shown an utter disregard for the sacred right of -property; you have been ready to steal, to live on the usufruct of the -labor of others; and now, as is inevitable"--Glassford shook his head -emphatically as he pronounced the word "inevitable"--"you have gone on -until nothing is sacred in your eyes--not even human life itself." - -Glassford, who found it easy to talk in this moral strain, especially -when reporters were present to take down his words, went on repeating -phrases he employed on the occasions when he pronounced sentence, until, -as it seemed to him, having worked himself up to the proper pitch, he -said, with one last tone of regret: - -"It is a painful duty," and then feeling there was no way out of the -duty, unless he resigned his position, which, of course, was out of the -question, he straightened in his seat, turned, looked up at the ceiling -and said, speaking more rapidly, "and yet I can not shirk a duty because -it is disagreeable." - -He clasped the desk before him tightly with his hands; his lips were -pale. Then he said: - -"The sentence of the court is that you be taken by the sheriff to the -penitentiary, and there delivered over into the custody of the warden of -the said penitentiary, by him to be guarded and safely kept until the -fourteenth day of May next ensuing, on which day the said warden of the -said penitentiary shall cause a current of electricity to be passed -through your body, and to cause the said current to continue to be -passed through your body--until you are dead." - -Glassford paused; no one in the court-room moved. Archie still kept his -eyes on Glassford, and Glassford kept his eyes on the wall. Glassford -had remembered that in olden days the judge, when he donned the black -cap, at some such time as this used to pray that God would have mercy on -the soul of the man for whom he himself could find no mercy; but -Glassford did not like to say this; it seemed too old-fashioned and he -would have felt silly and self-conscious in it. And yet, he felt that -the proprieties demanded that something be said in the tone of piety, -and, thinking a moment, he added: - -"And I hope, Koerner, that you will employ the few remaining days of -life left to you in preparing your soul to meet its Maker." - -With an air of relief, Glassford turned, and wrote in his docket. On -his broad, shining forehead drops of perspiration were glistening. - -"The prisoner will be remanded," he said. - -Archie faced about and held out his left wrist toward Danner. The -handcuffs clicked, Marriott turned, glanced at Archie, but he could not -bear to look in his white face. Then he heard Danner's feet and -Archie's feet falling in unison as they passed out of the courtroom. - - - - - XXIII - - -Danny Gibbs, having recovered from the debauch into which Archie's fate -had plunged him, sat in his back room reading the evening paper. His -spree had lasted for a week, and the whole tenderloin had seethed with -the excitement of his escapades. Now that it was all over and reason -had returned, he had made new resolutions, and a certain moral -rehabilitation was expressed in his solemn demeanor and in the utter -neatness of his attire. He was clean-shaven, his skin glowed pink from -Turkish baths, his gray hair was closely trimmed and soberly parted, his -linen was scrupulously clean; he wore new clothes of gray, his shoes -were polished and without a fleck of dust. His meditations that evening -might have been profoundly pious, or they might have been dim, foggy -recollections of the satisfaction he had felt in heaping scathing curses -on the head of Quinn, whom he had met in Eva Clason's while on his -rampage. He had cursed the detective as a representative of the entire -race of policemen, whom he hated, and Quinn had apparently taken it in -this impersonal sense, for he had stood quietly by without resenting -Gibbs's profane denunciation. But whatever Gibbs's meditations, they -were broken by the entrance of a woman. - -She was dressed just as she had always been in the long years Gibbs had -known her, soberly and in taste; she wore a dark tailor suit, the jacket -of which disclosed at her full bosom a fresh white waist. She was -gloved and carried a small hand-bag; the bow of black ribbon on her hat -trembled with her agitation; she was not tall, but she was heavy, with -the tendency to the corpulence of middle years. Her reddish hair was -touched with gray here and there, and, as Gibbs looked at her, he could -see in her flushed face traces of the beauty that had been the fatal -fortune of the girlhood of Jane the Gun. - -"Howdy, Dan," she said, holding out her gloved hand. - -"Hello, Jane," he said. "When'd you come?" - -"I got in last night," she said, laying her hand-bag on the table. -"Give me a little whisky, Dan." She tugged at her gloves, which came -from her moist hands reluctantly. Gibbs was looking at her hands,--they -were as white, as soft and as beautiful as they had ever been. One -thing in the world, he reflected in the saddened philosophy that had -come to him with sobriety, had held unchanged, anyway. - -"I said a little whisky, Dan!" she spoke with some of her old -imperiousness. - -"No," he said resolutely, "you don't need any. There's nothing in it." -He was speaking out of his moral rehabilitation. She glanced at him -angrily; he saw that her brown eyes, the brown eyes that went with her -reddish hair and her warm complexion, were flaming and almost red. He -remembered to have seen them flame that dangerous red before. Still, it -would be best to mollify her. - -"There ain't any more whisky in town," he said, "I've drunk it all up." - -She laughed as the second glove came off with a final jerk. - -"I heard you'd been hitting the pots. Isn't it a shame! The poor kid! -I heard it's a kangaroo." - -Gibbs made no comment. - -"He was a raw one, too, wasn't he?" - -"Well, he's a young Dutchman--he filled in with the mob several moons -back." - -"What was the rap?" - -"He boosted a rod, and they settled him for that; he got a stretch. -Then he was in when they knocked off the peter in that P. O. down in -Indiana." - -"That's what I couldn't get hip to; Mason wasn't--" - -"No, not that time; they had him wrong; but you know what them elbows -are." - -"They must have rapped hard." - -"Yes, they gave them a five spot. But the Dutch wasn't in on that -Flanagan job, neither was Curly. That was rough work--the cat, I -s'pose." - -Jane, her chin in her hands, suddenly became intent, looking straight -into Gibbs's eyes. - -"Dan, that's what I want to get wise to." - -Her cheeks flamed to her white temples, her breast rose tumultuously, -and as she looked at Gibbs her eyes contracted, the wrinkles about them -became deeper and older, and they wore the hard ugly look of jealous -suspicion. But presently her lip quivered, then slowly along the lower -lashes of her eyes the tears gathered. - -"What's the matter, Jane?" - -"You don't know what I've stood for that man!" she blazed out. "I could -settle him. I could send him to the stir. I could have him touched -off!" She had clenched her fist, and, at these last words, with their -horrible possibility, she smote it down on the table. "But he knew I -wouldn't be a copper!" She ended with this, and fumbling among a -woman's trinkets in her hand-bag, she snatched out a handkerchief and -hastily brushed away the tears. Gibbs, appealed to in all sorts of -exigencies, was at a loss when a woman wept. She shook with weeping, -until her hatred was lost in the pity she felt for herself. - -"I never said a word when you flew me the kite to keep under cover that -time he plugged Moon." - -"No, you were good then." - -"Yes," she said, looking up for approval, "I was, wasn't I? But this -time--I won't stand for it!" - -"I'm out o' this," said Gibbs. - -"Well," she went on, "his mouthpiece wrote me not to show here. But I -was on at once. Curly knew I was hip from the start"--her anger was -rising again. "It was all framed up; he got that mouthpiece to hand me -that bull con, and he's even got McFee to--" - -"McFee!" said Gibbs, starting at the name of the inspector. "McFee! -Have you been to him?" - -"Yes, I've been to him!" she said, repeating his words with a satirical -curl of the lip. "I've been to him; the mouthpiece sent me word to lay -low till he sprung him; Curly sent me word that McFee said I wasn't to -come to this town. Think I couldn't see through all that? I was wise -in a minute and I just come, that's what I did, right away. I did the -grand over here." - -"What was it you thought they had framed up?" asked Gibbs innocently. -"I can't follow you." - -"Aw, now, Dan," she said, drawing away from the table with a sneer, -"don't you try to whip-saw me." - -"No, on the dead!" - -"What was it? Why, some moll, of course; some tommy." - -Gibbs leaned back and laughed; he laughed because he saw that this was -simply woman's jealousy. - -"Look here, Jane," he said, "you know I don't like to referee these -domestic scraps--I know I'll be the fall guy if I do--but you're wrong, -that's all; you've got it wrong." - -She looked at him, intently trying to prove his sincerity, and anxious -to be convinced that her suspicions were unfounded, and yet by habit and -by her long life of crime she was so suspicious and so distrustful--like -all thieves, she thought there were no honest people in the world--that -her suspicions soon gained their usual mastery over her, and she broke -out: - -"You know I'm not wrong. I went to see McFee." - -"What did he say?" asked Gibbs, with the interest in anything this lord -that stood between him and the upper world might say. - -"Why, he said he wouldn't say nothing." - -"Did he say you could stay?" - -"Well," she hesitated an instant, "he said he didn't want me doing any -work in town; he said he wouldn't stand for it." - -"No, you mustn't do any work here." Gibbs spoke now with his own -authority, reinforcing that of the detective. - -"Oh, sin not leery!" she sneered at him. "I'm covered all right, and -strong. You're missing the number, that's all. I'm going to camp here, -and when I see her, I'll clout her on the kurb; I'll slam a rod to her -nut, if I croak for it!" - -"Jane," said Gibbs, when he had looked his stupefaction at her, "you've -certainly gone off your nut. Who in hell's this woman you're talking -about?" - -"As if you don't know! What do you want to string me for?" - -Gibbs looked at her with a perfectly blank face. - -"All right, have it your way." - -"Well," she said presently, with some doubt in her mind, "if you don't -know and just to prove to you that I _do_ know, it's the sister of that -young Koerner!" - -Gibbs looked at her a long time in a kind of silent contempt. Then he -said in a tone that dismissed the subject as an absurdity: - -"You've passed; the nut college for you." - -Jane fingered the metal snake that made the handle of her bag; now and -then she sighed, and after a while she was forced to speak--the silence -oppressed her: - -"Well, I'll stay and see, anyway." - -"Jane, you're bug house," said Gibbs quietly. - -Somehow, at the words, she bowed her head on her hands and wept; the -black ribbon on her hat shook with her sobbing. - -"Oh, Dan, I am bug house," she sobbed; "that's what I've been leery of. -I haven't slept for a month; I've laid awake night after night; for four -days now I've been going down the line--hunting her everywhere, and I -can't find her!" - -She gave way utterly and cried. And Gibbs waited with a certain aspect -of stolid patience, but in reality with a distrust of himself; he was a -sentimental man, who was moved by any suffering that revealed itself to -him concretely, or any grief or hardship that lay before his own eyes, -though he lacked the cultured imagination that could reveal the sorrows -and the suffering that are hidden in the world beyond immediate vision. -But she ceased her weeping as suddenly as she had begun it. - -"Dan," she said, looking up, "you don't know what I've done for that -man. I was getting along all right when I doubled with him; I was doing -well--copping the cush right along. I was working under protection in -Chi.; I gave it all up for him--" - -She broke off suddenly and exclaimed irrelevantly: - -"The tommy buster!" - -Gibbs started. - -"No," he protested, "not Curly!" - -"Sure!" she sneered, turning away in disgust of his doubt. - -"What made you stand for it?" - -"Well," she temporized, forced to be just, "it was only once. I had -rousted a goose for his poke--all alone too--" She spoke with the pride -she had always had in her dexterity, and Gibbs suddenly recalled the -fact that she had been the first person in all their traditions who -could take a pocketbook from a man, "weed" and replace it without his -being aware; the remembrance pleased him and his eyes lighted up. - -"What's the matter?" she demanded suddenly. - -"I was thinking of the time you turned the old trick, and at the -come-back, when the bulls found the sucker's leather on him with the -put-back, they booted him down the street; remember?" - -Jane looked modest and smiled, but she was too full of her troubles now -for compliments, though she had a woman's love for them. - -"I saw the sucker was fanning and I--well, Curly comes up just then and -he goes off his nut and he--gives me a beating--in the street." - -She saw that the circumstances altered the case in Gibbs's eyes, and she -rather repented having told. - -"He said he didn't want me working; he said he could support me." - -Gibbs plainly thought well of Curly's wish to be the sole head and -support of his nomadic family, but he recognized certain disadvantages -in Curly's attitude when he said: - -"You could get more than he could." - -"Course, that's what I told him, but he said no, he wouldn't let me, -and, Dan, you know what I did? Why, I helped him; he used to bust tags -on the rattlers, and he hoisted express-wagons--I knew where to dispose -of the stuff--furs and that sort, and we did do pretty well. I used to -fill out for him, and then I'd go with him to the plant at night and -wait with the drag holding the horses--God! I've sat out in the jungle -when it was freezing, sat out for hours; sometimes the plant had been -sprung by the bulls or the hoosiers; it made no difference--that's how I -spent my nights for two winters. I know every road and every field and -every fence corner around that town. It gave me the rheumatism, and I -hurt my back helping him load the swag. You see he didn't have a gager -and didn't have to bit up with any one, but he never appreciated that! -And now he's lammed, he's pigged, that's what he's done; he's thrown me -down--but you bet I'll have my hunk!" - -"That won't get you anything," Gibbs argued. "Anyway," he added, as if -he had suddenly discovered a solution, "why don't you go back on the gun -now?" - -She was silent a moment, and, as she sat there, the tears that were -constantly filling her eyes welled up again, and she said, though -reluctantly and with a kind of self-consciousness: - -"I don't want to, Dan. I'm getting old. To tell the truth, since I've -been out of it, I'm sick of the business--I--I've got a notion to square -it." - -Gibbs was so used to this talk of reform that it passed him idly by, and -he only laughed. She leaned her cheek against her hand; with the other -hand she twisted and untwisted the metal snake. Presently she sighed -unconsciously. - -"What are you going to do now?" Gibbs asked presently. - -"I'm going to stay here in town till I see this woman." - -"But you can't do any work here." - -"I don't want to do any work, I tell you." - -"How'll you live?" - -"Live!" she said scornfully. "I don't care how; I don't care if I have -to carry the banner--I'll get a bowl of sky-blue once in a while--and -I'll wash dishes--anything!" She struck the table, and Gibbs's eyes -fastened on her white, plump little fist as it lay there; then he -laughed, thinking of it in a dish-pan, where it had never been. - -"Well, I'll do it!" she persisted, reading his thought and hastily -withdrawing the fist. "I'm going to get him!" She looked at Gibbs for -emphasis. - -"Jane," he said quietly, "you want to cut that out. This is no place for -you now--this town's getting on the bum; they've put it to the bad. -It's time to rip it. This rapper--" - -"Oh, yes, I've heard--what's this his name is now?" - -"Eades." - -"What kind is he?" - -"Oh, he's a swell lobster." - -"They tell me he's strong." - -"He's the limit." - -Her eyes lighted up suddenly and she sat upright. - -"Then I'll go see him!" - -"Jane!" Gibbs exclaimed with as much feeling as he ever showed. He saw -by the flashes of her eyes that her mind was working rapidly, though he -could not follow the quick and surprising turns her intentions would -take. He had a sudden vision, however, of her sitting in Eades's -office, talking to him, passing herself off, doubtless, for the -respectable and devoted wife of Jackson; he knew how easily she could -impose on Eades; he knew how Eades would be impressed by a woman who -wore the good clothes Jane knew how to wear so well, and he felt, too, -that in his utter ignorance of the world from which Jane came, in his -utter ignorance of life in general, Eades would believe anything she -told him; and becoming thus prejudiced in the very beginning, make -untold work for him to do in order to save his friend. - -"Jane," he said severely, "you let him alone; you hear?" - -She had risen and was drawing on her gloves. She stood there an -instant, smiling as if her new notion pleased her, while she pressed -down the fingers of her glove on her left hand. Then she said -pleasantly: - -"Good-by, Dan. Give my love to Kate." - -And she turned and was gone. - - - - - XXIV - - -Elizabeth had heard her father enter and she imagined him sitting in the -library, musing by the fire, finding a tired man's comfort in that quiet -little hour before dinner. Sensitive as ever to atmospheres, Elizabeth -felt the coziness of the hour, and looked forward to dinner with -pleasure. For days she had been under the gloom of Archie's conviction; -she had never followed a murder case before, but she had special reason -for an interest in this. She had helped Marriott all she could by -wishing for his success; she had felt his failure as a blow, and this, -with the thought of Gusta, had caused her inexpressible depression. But -by an effort she had put these thoughts from her mind, and now in her -youth, her health, her wholesomeness, the effect of so much sorrow and -despair was leaving her. She had finished her toilet, which, answering -her mood, was bright that evening, when she heard Dick enter. Half the -time of late he had not come home at all, sometimes days went by without -her seeing him. She glanced at the little watch on her dressing-table; -it was not yet six and Dick was home in time for dinner; perhaps he -would spend the evening at home. She hoped he had not come to dress for -some engagement that would take him away. Her father, she knew, would -be happy in the thought of the boy's spending an evening with him; -almost pathetic in his happiness. Of late, more and more, as she noted, -the father had yearned toward the son; the lightest word, a look, a -smile from Dick was sufficient to make him glow with pleasure. It made -Elizabeth sad to see it, and it made her angry to see how her mother -fondled and caressed him, excusing him for, if not abetting him in, all -his excesses. But these thoughts were interrupted just then by Dick's -voice. He was in the hall outside, and he spoke her name: - -"Bess!" - -The tone of the voice struck her oddly. He had pushed open the door and -hesitated on the threshold, peering in cautiously. Then he entered and -carefully closed the door behind him. She scented the odor of Scotch -whisky, of cigarettes, in short, the odor of the club man. His face, -which she had thought ruddy with the health, the exuberance, the -inexhaustible vitality of youth, she saw now to be really unhealthy, its -ruddy tints but the flush of his dissipations. Now, his face went white -suddenly, as if a mask had been snatched from it; she saw the weakness -and sensuousness that marred it. - -"Dick!" she said, for some reason speaking in a whisper. "What's the -matter? Tell me!" - -At first a great fear came to her, a fear that he was intoxicated. She -knew by intuition that Dick must frequently have been intoxicated; but -she had never seen him so, and she dreaded it; she could have borne -anything better than that, she felt. He sank on to the edge of her bed -and sat there, rocking miserably to and fro, his overcoat bundled about -him, his hat toppling on the side of his head, a figure of utter -demoralization. - -"Dick!" she said, going to him, "what is it? Tell me!" - -She took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. He continued -to rock back and forth and to moan; - -"Oh, my God!" he said presently. "What am I going to do!" - -Elizabeth gathered herself for one of those ordeals which, in all -families, there is one stronger than the rest to meet and deal with. - -"Here, sit up." She shook him. "Sit up and tell me what ails you." -The fear that he was intoxicated had left her, and there was relief in -this. "And take off your hat." She seized the hat from his head and -laid it on the little mahogany stand beside her bed. "If you knew how -ridiculous you look!" - -He sat up at this and weakly began drawing off his gloves. When he had -them off, he drew them through his hand, slapped them in his palm, and -then with a weary sigh, said: - -"Well, I'm ruined!" - -"Oh, don't be dramatic!" She was herself now. "Tell me what scrape -you're in, and we'll see how to get you out of it." She was quite -composed. She drew up a chair for him and one for herself. Some silly -escapade, no doubt, she thought, which in his weakness he was half glad -to make the most of. He had removed his overcoat and taken the chair -she had placed for him. Then he raised his face, and when she saw the -expression, she felt the blood leave her cheeks; she knew that the -trouble was real. She struggled an instant against a sickness that -assailed her, and then, calming herself, prepared to meet it. - -"Well?" she said. - -"Bess," he began fearfully, and his head dropped again. "Bess"--his -voice was very strange--"it's--the--bank." - -She shivered as if a dead cold blast had struck her. In the moment -before there had swept through her mind a thousand possibilities, but -never this one. She closed her eyes. There was a sharp pain in her -heart, exactly as if she had suddenly crushed a finger. - -"The bank!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "Oh, Dick!" - -He hung his head and began to moan again, and to rock back and forth, -and then suddenly he leaned over, seized his head in his two hands and -began to weep violently, like a child. Strangely enough, to her own -surprise, she found herself calmly and coolly watching him. She could -see the convulsive movements of his back as he sobbed; she could see his -fingers viciously tearing at the roots of his hair. She sat and watched -him; how long she did not know. Then she said: - -"Don't cry, Dick; they'll hear you down-stairs." - -He made an effort to control himself, and Elizabeth suddenly remembered -that he had told her nothing at all. - -"What do you mean," she asked, "by the bank?" - -"I mean," he said without uncovering his face, and his hands muffled his -words, "that I'm--into it." - -Ah, yes! This was the dim, unposited thought, the numb, aching dread, -the half-formed, unnamed, unadmitted fear that had lurked beneath the -thought of all these months--underneath the father's thought and hers; -this was what they had meant when they exchanged glances, when now and -then with dread they approached the subject in obscure, mystic words, -meaningless of themselves, yet pregnant with a dreadful and terrible -import. And now--it had come! - -"How much?" she forced herself to ask. - -He nodded. - -"It's big. Several--" - -"What?" - -"Hundreds." - -"Hundreds?" - -He hesitated, and then, - -"Thousands," he said, tearing the word from him. - -"How many thousands?" she asked, when she could find the courage. - -Again he cowered before the truth. She grew impatient. - -"Tell me!" she commanded. "Don't be a coward." He winced. "Sit up and -face this thing and tell me. How many thousands have you stolen?" - -She said it in a hard, cold voice. He suddenly looked up, his eyes -flashed an instant. He saw his sister sitting there, her hands held -calmly in her lap, her head inclined a little, her chin thrust out, her -lips tightly compressed, and he could not meet her; he collapsed again, -and she heard him say pitifully, "Don't use that word." Then he began -to weep, and as he sobbed, he repeated: - -"Oh, they'll send me to the penitentiary--the penitentiary--the -penitentiary!" - -The word struck Elizabeth; her gray eyes began to fill. - -"How much, Dick?" she asked gently. - -"Five--a--" - -"More?" - -He nodded - -"How much more?" - -"Twice as much." - -"Ten, then?" - -He said nothing; he ceased sobbing. Then suddenly he looked up and met -her glance. - -"Bess," he said, "it's twenty-three thousand!" - -She stared at him until her tears had dried. In the silence she could -hear her little watch ticking away on the dressing-table. The lights in -the room blazed with a fierce glare. - -"Does Mr. Hunter know?" - -"Yes." - -"When did he find out?" - -"This morning. He called me in this afternoon." - -"Does any one else know?" - -"Yes." - -"Who?" - -Dick hung his head and began to fumble his watch-chain. - -"Who, Dick?" - -"One other man." - -"Who? Tell me." - -"Eades." - -She closed her eyes and leaned back; she dropped her arms to her sides -and clutched her chair for support. For a long while they did not -speak. It was Dick at last who spoke. He seemed to have regained his -faculties and his command. - -"Bess," he said, "Eades will have no mercy on me. You know that." - -She admitted it with a slow nod of her head, her eyes still closed. - -"Something must be done. Father--he must be told. Will--will you tell -him?" - -She sat a moment--it seemed a long moment--without moving, without -opening her eyes; and Dick sat there and watched her. Some of the color -had come to his face. His eyes were contracting; his face was lined -with new scheming. - -"Will you tell him, Bess?" - -She moved, opened her eyes slowly, wearily, and sighed: - -"Yes." - -She got up. - -"You're not going to tell him now?" - -He stretched out a hand as if to detain her. - -"Yes, now. Why not?" She rose with difficulty, paused, swayed a little -and then went toward the door. Dick watched her without a word. His -hand was in the pocket of his coat. He drew out a cigarette. - -She went down the stairs holding the baluster tightly; her palm, moist -from her nervousness, squeaked on the rail as she slid it along. She -paused in the library door. Her father was lounging in his chair under -the reading-lamp, his legs stretched toward the fire. She could just -see the top of his head over the chair, the light falling on his gray -hair. - -"That you, Betsy?" - -The cheer and warmth of his tone smote her; again her eyes closed in -pain. - -"Yes, it's I," she said, trying for a natural tone, and succeeding, at -least, in putting into her voice a great love--and a great pity. She -bent over the back of the chair, and laid her hands on his head, gazing -into the fire. The touch of her hands sent a delicious thrill through -Ward; he did not move or speak, wishing to prolong the sensation. - -"Dear," she said, "I have something to tell you." - -The delicious sensation left him instantly. - -"Can you bear some bad news--some bad, bad news?" - -His heart sank. He had expected something like this--the day would -come, he knew, when she would leave him. But was it not unusual? -Should not Eades have spoken--should not he have asked him first? Her -arms were stealing about his neck. - -"Some bad news--some evil news. Something very--" - -She had slipped around beside him and leaned over as if to protect him -from the blow she was about to deliver. Her voice suddenly grew -unnatural, tragic, sending a shudder through him as she finished her -sentence with the one word: - -"Horrible!" - -"What is it?" he whispered. - -"Be strong, dear, and brave; it's going to hurt you." - -"Tell me, Bess," he said, sitting up now, his man's armor on. - -"It's about Dick." - -"Dick!" - -"Yes, Dick--and the bank!" - -"Oh-h!" he groaned, and, in his knowledge of his own world, he knew it -all. - - - - - XXV - - -"Ah, Mr. Ward, ah! Heh! Won't you sit down, sir, won't you sit down?" - -Hunter had risen from his low hollow chair, and now stood bowing, or -rather stooping automatically to a posture lower than was customary with -him. The day before or that afternoon, Ward would have noticed Hunter's -advancing senility. The old banker stood bent before his deep, -well-worn green chair, its bottom sagging almost to the floor. He had -on large, loose slippers and a long faded gown. The light glistened on -his head, entirely bald, and fell in bright patches on the lean, yellow -face that was wrinkled in a smile,--but a smile that expressed nothing, -not even mirth. He stood there, uncertainly, almost apologetically, -making some strange noise in his throat like a chuckle, or like a cough. -His tongue moved restlessly along his thin lips. In his left hand he -held a cigar, stuck on a toothpick. - -"Won't you sit down, Mr. Ward, won't you sit down, sir?" - -The old banker, after striving for this effect of hospitality, lowered -himself carefully into his own deep chair. Ward seated himself across -the hearth, and looked at the shabby figure, huddled in its shabby -chair, in the midst of all the richness and luxury of that imposing -library. About the walls were magnificent bookcases in mahogany, and -behind their little leaded panes of glass were rows of morocco bindings. -On the walls were paintings, and all about, in the furniture, the rugs, -the bric-à-brac, was the display of wealth that had learned to refine -itself. And yet, in the whole room nothing expressed the character of -that aged and withered man, save the shabby green chair he sat in, the -shabby gown and slippers he wore, and the economical toothpick to make -his cigar last longer. Ward remembered to have heard Elizabeth and her -mother--in some far removed and happy day before this thing had come -upon him--speak of the difficulty Mrs. Hunter and Agnes Hunter had with -the old man; he must have been intractable, he had resisted to the end -and evidently come off victorious, for here he sat with the trophies of -his victory, determined to have his own way. And yet Ward, who was not -given to speculations of the mental kind, did not think of these things. -At another time Hunter might have impressed him sadly as an old man; but -not now; this night he was feeling very old himself. - -"I presume, Mr. Hunter," Ward began, "that you imagined the object of my -visit when I telephoned you an hour ago." - -"Oh, yes, sir, yes, Mr. Ward. You came to see me about that boy of -yours!" - -"Exactly," said Ward, and he felt his cheek flush. - -"Bad boy, that, Mr. Ward," said Hunter in his squeaking voice, grinning -toothlessly. - -"We needn't discuss that," said Ward, lifting his hand. "The situation -is already sufficiently embarrassing. I came to talk the matter over as -a simple business proposition." - -"Yes?" squeaked Hunter with a rising inflection. - -"What does the shortage amount to?" Ward leaned toward him. - -"In round numbers?" - -"No," Ward was abrupt. "In dollars and cents." - -Hunter pursed his lips. Ward's last words seemed to stimulate his -thought. - -"Let us see," he said, "let us see. If I remember rightly"--and Ward -knew that he remembered it to the last decimal point--"it amounts to -twenty-four thousand, six hundred and seventy-eight dollars and -twenty-nine cents." - -Ward made no reply; he was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, -gazing into the fire. He did not move, and yet he knew that the old -banker was shrewdly eying him. - -"That, of course," said Hunter with the effect of an afterthought, "is -the principal sum. The interest--" - -"Yes, that's all right," said Ward. Hunter's last words, which at any -other time would have infuriated him, in this instance made him happy; -they reassured him, gave him hope. He knew now that the old banker was -ready to compromise. Then suddenly he remembered that he had not smoked -that evening, and he drew his cigar-case from his pocket. - -"Do you mind, sir, if I smoke?" - -"Not in the least, Mr. Ward, not in the least, sir; delighted to have -you. Make yourself perfectly at home, sir." - -He waved his long, thin, transparent hand grandly and hospitably at -Ward, and smiled his toothless smile. - -"Perhaps you'd smoke, Mr. Hunter." - -Ward proffered him the case and reflected instantly with delight that -the cigar was a large, strong Havana, rich and heavy, much heavier than -the old man was accustomed to, for from its odor Ward knew that the -cigar Hunter was consuming to the last whiff was of cheap domestic -tobacco, if it was of tobacco at all. - -"Thank you, sir," said Hunter, delighted, leaning out of his chair and -selecting a cigar with care. "I usually limit myself to one cigar of an -evening--but with you--" - -"Yes," thought Ward, "I know why you limit yourself to one, and I hope -this one will make you sick." - -When Ward had smoked a moment, he said: - -"Mr. Hunter, if I reimburse you, what assurance can I have that there -will be no prosecution?" - -"Heh, heh." The old man made that queer noise in his throat again. -"Heh, heh. Well, Mr. Ward, you know you are already on your son's -bond." - -"For ten thousand, yes--not for twenty-four." - -"Quite right!" said Hunter, taken somewhat aback. Then they were silent. - -"What assurance can you give me, Mr. Hunter?" He took the cigar from -his lips and looked directly at Hunter. - -"Well, I'm afraid, Mr. Ward, that that has passed out of my hands. You -see--" - -"You told Eades; yes, I know!" Ward was angry, but he realized the -necessity for holding his temper. - -"Why did you do that, Mr. Hunter, if I may ask? What did you expect to -gain?" - -Hunter made the queer noise in his throat and then he stammered: - -"Well, Mr. Ward, you must understand that--heh--our Trust Company is a -state institution--and I felt it to be my duty, as a citizen, you know, -to report any irregularities to the proper official. Merely my duty, as -a citizen, Mr. Ward, you understand, as a citizen. Painful, to be sure, -but my duty." - -Ward might not have been able to conceal the disgust he felt for this -old man if he had not, for the first time that evening, been reminded by -Hunter's own words that the affair was not one to come within the -federal statutes. What Hunter's motive had been in reporting the matter -to Eades so promptly, he could not imagine. It would seem that he could -have dealt better by keeping the situation in his own hands; that he -could have held the threat of prosecution over his head as a weapon -quite as menacing as this, and certainly one he could more easily -control. But Hunter was mysterious; he waded in the water, and Ward -could not follow his tracks. He was sure of but one thing, and that was -that the reason Hunter had given was not the real reason. - -"You might have waited, it seems to me, Mr. Hunter," he said. "You -might have had some mercy on the boy." - -Ward did not see the peculiar smile that played on Hunter's face. - -"If I remember, Mr. Ward, you had a young man in your employ once, -who--" - -Ward could scarcely repress a groan. - -"I know, I know," he hastened to confess. - -"Yes, exactly," said Hunter, his chuckle now indicating a dry -satisfaction. "You did it as a duty--as I did--our duties as citizens, -Mr. Ward, our duties as citizens, and our duties to the others in our -employ--we must make examples for them." - -"Yes. Well, it's different when your own boy is selected to afford the -example," Ward said this with a touch of his humor, but became serious -and sober again as he added: - -"And I hope, Mr. Hunter, that this affair will never cause you the -sorrow and regret--yes, the remorse--that that has caused me." - -Hunter looked at Ward furtively, as if he could not understand how such -things could cause any one regret. Out of this want of understanding, -however, he could but repeat his former observation: - -"But our duty, Mr. Ward. We must do our duty--heh--heh--as citizens, -remember." - -He was examining the little gilt-and-red band on the cigar Ward had -given him. He had left it on the cigar, and now picked at it with a -long, corrugated finger-nail, as if he found a pleasure and a novelty in -it. Ward was willing to let the subject drop. He knew that Hunter had -been moved by no civic impulse in reporting the fact to Eades; he did -not know what his motive had been; perhaps he never would know. It was -enough now that the harm had been done, and in his practical way he was -wondering what could be done next. He suddenly made a movement as if he -would go, a movement that caused Hunter to glance at him in some -concern. - -"Well," said Ward, "of course, if it has gone that far, if it is really -out of your hands, I presume the only thing is to let matters take their -course. To be sure, I had hoped--" - -"Keep your seat, Mr. Ward, keep your seat. It is a long time since I -have had the pleasure of entertaining you in my home." - -Entertaining! Ward could have seized the wizened pipe of the old man -and throttled him there in his shabby green-baize chair. - -"Have you anything to suggest?" asked Ward. - -"Would not the suggestion better emanate from you?" The old banker -waved a withered hand toward Ward with a gesture of invitation. Ward -remembered that gesture and understood it. He knew that now they were -getting down to business. - -"I have no proposition," said Ward. "I am anxious to save my son--and -my family." A shade of pain darkened his countenance. "I am willing to -make good the--er--shortage." How all such words hurt and stung just -now! "Provided, of course, the matter could be dropped there." - -The old banker pondered. - -"I should like to help you in your difficulty, Mr. Ward," he said. -"I--" - -Ward waited. - -"I should be willing to recommend to Mr. Eades a discontinuance of any -action. What his attitude would be, I am not, of course, able to say. -You understand my position." - -"Very well," said Ward in the brisk business way habitual with him. -"You see Eades, have him agree to drop the whole thing, and I'll give -you my check to cover the--deficiency." - -The banker thought a moment and said finally: - -"I shall have an interview with Mr. Eades in the morning, communicating -the result to you at eleven o'clock." - -Ward rose. - -"Must you go?" asked Hunter in surprise, as if the visit had been but a -social one. He rose tremblingly, and stood looking about him with his -mirthless grin, and Ward departed without ceremony. - - - - - XXVI - - -All the way to the court-house Elizabeth's heart failed her more and -more. She had often been in fear of Eades, but never had she so feared -him as she did to-day; the fear became almost an acute terror. And, -once in the big building, the fear increased. Though the court-house, -doubtless, was meant for her as much as for any one, she felt that alien -sense that women still must feel in public places. Curiosity and -incredulity were shown in the glances the loafers of the corridors -bestowed on this young woman, who, in her suit of dark green, with gray -furs and muff, attracted such unusual attention. Elizabeth detected the -looks that were exchanged, and, because of her sensitiveness, imagined -them to be of more significance than they were. She saw the sign -"Marriage Licenses" down one gloomy hallway; then in some way she -thought of the divorce court; then she thought of the criminal court, -with its shadow now creeping toward her own home, and when she reflected -how much cause for this staring curiosity there might be if the curious -ones but knew all she knew, her heart grew heavier. But she hurried -along, found Eades's office, and, sending in her card, sat down in the -outer room to wait. - -She had chosen the most obscure corner and she sat there, hoping that no -one would recognize her, filled with confusion whenever any one looked -at her, or she suspected any one of looking at her, and imagining all -the dreadful significances that might attach to her visit. While she -waited, she had time to think over the last eighteen hours. They had -found it necessary to tell her mother, and that lady had spent the whole -morning in hysteria, alternately wondering what people would say when -the disgrace became known, and caressing and leaning on Dick, who -bravely remained at home and assumed the manly task of comforting and -reassuring his mother. Elizabeth had awaited in suspense the conclusion -of Hunter's visit to Eades, and she had gone down town to hear from her -father the result of Hunter's effort. She was not surprised when her -father told her that Hunter reported failure; neither of them had had -much faith in Hunter and less in Eades. But when they had discussed it -at the luncheon they had in a private room at the club, and after the -discussion had proved so inconclusive, she broached the plan that had -come to her in the wakeful night,--the plan she had been revolving in -her mind all the morning. - -"My lawyer?" her father had said. "He could do nothing--in a case like -this." - -"I suppose not," Elizabeth had said. "Besides, it would only place the -facts in the possession of one more person." - -"Yes." - -"We might consult Gordon Marriott. He would sympathize--and help." - -"Yes, that might do." - -"But not yet," she had said, "Not till I've tried my plan." - -"Your plan? What is it?" - -"To see John Eades--for me to see John Eades." - -She had hung her head--she could not help it, and her father had shown -some indignation. - -"Not for worlds!" he had said. "Not for worlds!" - -"But I'm going." - -"No! It wouldn't be fitting!" - -"But I'm going." - -"Then I'll go along." - -"No, I'll go alone." - -He had protested, of course, but his very next words showed that he was -ready to give in. - -"When shall you go?" he asked. - -"Now. There isn't much time. The grand jury--what is it the grand jury -does?" - -"It sits next week, and Eades will lay the case before it -then--unless--" - -"Unless I can stop him." - -There had been a little intense, dramatic moment when the waiter was out -of the room and she had risen, buttoning her jacket and drawing on her -gloves, and her father had stood before her. - -"Bess," he said, "tell me, are you contemplating some--horrible -sacrifice?" He had put his finger under her chin and elevated it, in -the effort to make her look him in the eyes. She had paled slightly and -then smiled--and kissed him. - -"Never mind about me, papa." - -And then she had hastened away--and here she was. - -The tall door lettered "The Prosecuting Attorney" was closed, but she -did not have to wait long before it opened and three men came out, -evidently hurried away by Eades, who hastened to Elizabeth's side and -said: - -"Pardon me if I kept you waiting," - -They entered the private office, and, at her sign, he closed the door. -She took the chair beside his desk, and he sat down and looked at her -expectantly. He was plainly ill at ease, and this encouraged her. She -was alive to the strangeness of this visit, to the strangeness of the -place and the situation; her heart was in her throat; she feared she -could not speak, but she made a great effort and plunged at once into -the subject. - -"You know what brings me here." - -"I presume--" - -"Yes," she said before he could finish. He inclined his head in an -understanding that would spare painful explanation. His heart was going -rapidly. He would have gloried in having her near him in any other -place; but here in this place, on this subject! He must not forget his -position; he must assume his official personality; the separation of his -relations had become a veritable passion with him. - -"I came," she said, "to ask a favor--a very great favor. Will you grant -it?" - -She leaned forward slightly, but with a latent intensity that showed all -her eagerness and concern. He was deeply troubled. - -"You know I would do anything in my power for you," he said. His heart -was sincere and glowing--but his mind instantly noted the qualification -implied in the words, "my power." - -And Elizabeth, with her quick intelligence, caught the significance of -those words. She closed her eyes an instant. How hard he made it! -Still, he was certainly within his rights. - -"I want you to let my brother go," she said, - -[Illustration: "I want you to let my brother go," she said] - -He compressed his lips, and she noted how very thin, how resolute they -were. - -"It does not altogether rest with me." - -"You evade," she said. "Don't treat me--as if I were some politician." -She was surprised at her own temerity. With some little fear that he -might mistake her meaning, she, nevertheless, kept her gray eyes fixed -on him, and went on: - -"I came to ask you not to lay his case before the grand jury. I believe -that is the extent of your power. I really don't know about such -things." Her eyes fell, and she gently stroked the soft gray fur of her -muff, as she permitted herself this woman's privilege of pleading -weakness. "No one need be the loser--my father will make good -the--shortage. All will be as if it never had been--all save this -horrible thing that has come to us--that must remain, of course, for -ever." - -Then she let the silence fall between them. - -"You are asking me to do a great deal." - -"It seems a very little thing to me, so far as you are concerned; to -us--to me--of course, it is a great thing; it means our family, our -name, my father, my mother, myself--leaving Dick out of it altogether." - -Eades turned away in pain. It was evident that she had said her all, -and that he must speak. - -"You forget one other thing," he said presently. - -"What?" - -"The rights of society." He was conscious of a certain inadequacy in -his words; they sounded to him weak, and not at all as it seemed they -should have sounded. She did not reply at once, but he knew that she -was looking at him. Was that look of hers a look of scorn? - -"I do not care one bit for the rights of society," she said. He knew -that she spoke with all her spirit. But she softened almost instantly -and added, "I do care, of course, for its opinion." - -Eades was not introspective enough to realize his own superlative regard -for society's opinion; it was easier to cover this regard with words -about its rights. - -"But society has rights," he said, "and society has placed me here to -see those rights conserved." - -"What rights?" she asked. - -"To have the wrong-doer punished." - -"And the innocent as well? You would punish my mother, my father and -_me_, although, of course, we already have our punishment." She waited -a moment and then the cry was torn from her. - -"Can't you see that merely having to come here on such an errand is -punishment enough for me?" - -She was bending forward, and her eyes blinked back the tears. He had -never loved her so; he could not bear to look at her sitting there in -such anguish. - -"My God, yes!" he exclaimed. He got up hastily, plunging his hands in -his pockets, and walking away to his window, looked out a moment, then -turned; and as he spoke his voice vibrated: - -"Don't you know how this makes me suffer? Don't you know that nothing I -ever had to face troubles me as this does?" - -She did not reply. - -"If you don't," he added, coming near and speaking in a low, guarded -tone, "you don't know how--I love you." - -She raised her hand to protest, but she did not look up. He checked -himself. She lowered her gloved hand, and he wondered in a second of -great agitation if that gesture meant the withdrawal of the protest. - -"Then--then," she said very deliberately, "do this for me." - -She raised her muff to hide the face that flamed scarlet. He took one -step toward her, paused, struggled for mastery of himself. He -remembered now that the principle--the principle that had guided him in -the conduct of his office, required that he must make his decisions -slowly, calmly, impersonally, with the cold deliberation of the law he -was there to impersonate. And here was the woman he loved, the woman -whom he had longed to make his wife, the wife who could crown his -success--here, at last, ready to say the word she had so long refused to -say--the word he had so long wished to hear. - -"Elizabeth," he said simply, "you know how I have loved you, how I love -you now. This may not be the time or the place for that--I do not wish -to take an advantage of you--but you do not know some other things. I -have never felt at all worthy of you. I do not now, but I have felt -that I could at least offer you a clean hand and a clean heart. I have -tried in this office, with all its responsibilities, to do my duty -without fear or favor; thus far I have done so. It has been my pride -that nothing has swerved me from the path of that plain duty. I have -consoled myself ever since I knew I loved you--and that was long before -I dared to tell you--that I could at least go to you with that record. -And now you ask me to stultify myself, to give all that up! It is -hard--too hard!" He turned away. "I don't suppose I make it clear. -Perhaps it seems a little thing to you. To me it is a big thing; it is -all I have." - -Elizabeth was conscious for an instant of nothing but a gratitude to him -for turning away. She pressed her muff against her face; the soft fur, -a little cold, was comforting to her hot cheeks. She felt a humiliation -now that she feared she never could survive; she felt a regret, too, -that she had ever let the situation take this personal and intimate -turn. For an instant she was disposed to blame Eades, but she was too -just for that; she knew that she alone was to blame; she remembered that -it was this very appeal she had come to make, and she contemned -herself--despised herself. And then in a desperate effort to regain her -self-respect, she tried to change the trend of the argument, to restore -it to the academic, the impersonal, to struggle back to the other plane -with him, and she said: - -"If it could do any good! If I could see what good it does!" - -"What!" he exclaimed, turning to her. "What good? What good does any -of my work do?" - -"I'm sure I don't know." As she said this, she looked up at him, met -his eye with a boldness she despised in herself. Down in her heart she -was conscious of a self-abasement that was almost complete; she realized -the histrionic in her attitude, and in this feeling, determined now to -brave it out; she added bitterly: "None, I should say." - -"None!" He repeated the word, aghast. "None! Do you say that all this -work I have been doing for the betterment, the purification of society -does no good?" - -"No good," she said; "it does no good; it only makes more suffering in -the world." And she thought of all she was just then suffering. - -"Where--" he could not catch his breath--"where did you get that idea?" - -"In the night--in the long, horrible night." Though she was alive to -the dramatic import of her words and this scene, she was speaking with -sincerity, and she shuddered. - -Eades stood and looked at her. He could do nothing else; he could say -nothing, think nothing. - -In Elizabeth's heart there was now but one desire, and that was to get -away, to bring this horror to an end. She had come to save her brother; -now she was conscious that she must save herself; she felt that she had -hopelessly involved the situation; it was beyond remedy now, and she -must get away. She rose. - -"I have come here, I have humiliated myself to ask you to do a favor for -me," she said. "You are not ready to do it, I see." She was glad; she -felt now the dreadful anxiety of one who is about to escape an awful -dilemma. "To me it seems a very simple little thing, but--" - -She was going. - -"Elizabeth!" he said, "let me think it over. I can not think straight -just now. You know how I want to help you. You know I would do -anything--anything for you!" - -"Anything but this," she said. "This little thing that hurts no one, a -thing that can bring nothing but happiness to the world, that can save -my father and my mother and me--a thing, perhaps the only thing that can -save my poor, weak, erring brother--who knows?" - -"Let me think it over," he pleaded. "I'll think it over to-night--I'll -send you word in the morning." - -She turned then and went away. - - - - - XXVII - - -Elizabeth let the note fall in her lap. A new happiness suddenly -enveloped her. She felt the relief of an escape. The note ran: - - -DEAR ELIZABETH: - -I have thought it all over. I did not sleep all night, thinking of it, -and of you. But--I can not do what you ask; I could not love you as I -do if I were false to my duty. You know how hard it is for me to come -to this conclusion, how hard it is for me to write thus. It sounds -harsh and brutal and cold, I know. It is not meant to be. I know how -you have suffered; I wish you could know how I have suffered and how I -shall suffer. I can promise you one thing, however: that I shall do only -my duty, my plain, simple duty, as lightly as I can, and nothing now can -give me such joy as to find the outcome one perhaps I ought not to -wish--one which in any other case would be considered a defeat for me. -But I ask you to think of me, whatever may come to pass, as - -Your sincere - JOHN EADES. - - -She leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes; a sense of rest and -comfort came to her. She was content for a while simply to realize that -rest and comfort. She opened her eyes and looked out of the window over -the little triangular park with its bare trees; the sky was solid gray; -there was a gray tone in the atmosphere, and the soft light was grateful -and restful to her eyes, tired and sensitive as they were from the loss -of so much sleep. She felt that she could lie back then and sleep -profoundly. Yet she did not wish to sleep--she wished to be awake and -enjoy this sensation of relief, of escape. After that night and that -day and this last night of suspense, it was like a reprieve--she started -and her face darkened,--the thought of reprieve made her somehow think -of Archie Koerner. This event had quite driven him out of her mind, -coming as it had just at the climax. She had not thought of him -for--how long? And Gusta! It brought the thought of her, too. -Suddenly she remembered, with a dim sense of confusion that, at some -time long ago, she and Gusta had talked of Archie's first trouble. Had -they mentioned Dick? No, but she had thought of him! How strange! And -then her thoughts returned to Eades, and she lifted the note, and -glanced at it. She recalled the night at the Fords', and his proposal, -her hesitation and his waiting. She let the note fall again and sighed -audibly--a sigh that expressed her content. Then suddenly she started -up! She had forgotten Dick--the trouble--her father! - - -Marriott knew what she had to say almost before the first sentence had -fallen from her lips. - -"I'll not pretend to be surprised, Elizabeth," he said. "I haven't -expected it, but now I can see that it was inevitable." - -He looked away from her. - -"Poor boy!" he said. "How I pity him! He has done nothing more than to -adopt the common standard; he has accepted the common ideal. He has -believed them when they told him by word and deed that -possession--money--could bring happiness and that nothing else can! -Well--it's too bad." - -Elizabeth's head was drooping and the tears were streaming down her -cheeks. He pretended not to see. - -"Poor boy!" he went on. "Well, we must save him, that's all." - -She looked up at him, her gray eyes wide and their lashes drenched in -their tears. - -"How, Gordon?" - -"Well, I don't know, but some way." He studied a moment. "Eades--well, -of course, he's hopeless." - -She could never tell him of her visit to Eades; she had told him merely -of Hunter's interview with the prosecutor. But she was surprised to see -how Marriott, instantly, could tell just what Eades would do. - -"Eades is just a prosecutor, that's all," Marriott went on. "Heavens! -How the business has hardened him! How it does pull character to -shreds! And yet--he's like Dick--he's pursuing another ideal that's -very popular. They'll elect Eades congressman or governor or something -for his severity. But let's not waste time on him. Let's think." He -sat there, his brows knit, and Elizabeth watched him. - -"I wish I could fathom old Hunter. He had some motive in reporting it -to Eades so soon. Of course, if it wasn't for that it would be easy. -Hm--" He thought. "We'll have to work through Hunter. He's our only -chance. I must find out all there is to know about Hunter. Now, -Elizabeth, I'll have to shut myself up and do some thinking. The grand -jury doesn't meet for ten days--we have time--" - -"They won't arrest Dick?" - -"Oh, it's not likely now. Tell him to stay close at home--don't let him -skip out, whatever he does. That would be fatal. And one thing -more--let me do the worrying." He smiled. - -Marriott had hoped, when the murder trial was over, that he could rest; -he had set in motion the machinery that was to take the case up on -error; he had ordered his transcripts and prepared the petition in error -and the motions, and he was going to have them all ready and file them -at the last moment, so that he might be sure of delay. Archie had been -taken to the penitentiary, and Marriott was glad of that, for it -relieved him of the necessity of going to the jail so often; that was -always an ordeal. He had but one more visit to make there,--Curly had -sent for him; but Curly never demanded much. But now--here was a task -more difficult than ever. It provoked him almost to anger; he resented -it. It was always so, he told himself; everything comes at once--and -then he thought of Elizabeth. It was for her! - -He thought of nothing else all that day. He inquired about Hunter of -every one he met. He went to his friends, trying to learn all he could. -He picked up much, of course, for there was much to be told of such a -wealthy and prominent man as Amos Hunter, especially one with such -striking personal characteristics. But he found no clue, no hint that he -felt was promising. Then he suddenly remembered Curly. - -He found him in another part of the jail, where he had been immured away -from Archie in order that they might not communicate with each other. -With his wide knowledge and deeper nature Curly was a more interesting -personality than Archie. He took his predicament with that philosophy -Marriott had observed and was beginning to admire in these fellows; he -had no complaints to make. - -"I'm not worried," he said. "I'll come out all right. Eades has nothing -on me, and he knows it. They're holding me for a bluff. They'll keep -me, of course, until they get Archie out of the way, then they'll put me -on the street. It wouldn't do to drop my case now. They'll just stall -along with it until then. Of course--there's one danger--" he looked up -and smiled curiously, and to the question in Marriott's eyes, he -answered: - -"You see they can't settle me for this; but they might dig up something -somewhere else and put me away on that. You see the danger." - -Marriott nodded, not knowing just what to say. - -"But we must take the bitter with the sweet, as Eddie Dean used to say." -Curly spoke as if the observation were original with Dean. "But, Mr. -Marriott, there's one or two things I want you to attend to for me." - -"Well," consented Marriott helplessly, already overburdened with others' -cares. - -"I don't like to trouble you, but there's no one I like to trust, and -they won't let me see any one." - -He hesitated a moment. - -"It's this way," he presently went on. "I've got a woman--Jane, they -call her. She's a good woman, you see, though she has some bad tricks. -She's sore now, and hanging around here, and I want her to leave. She's -even threatened to see Eades, but she wouldn't do that; she's too -square. But she has a stand-in with McFee, and while he's all right in -his way, still he's a copper, and you can't be sure of a copper. She -can't help me any here, and she might queer me; the flatties might pry -something out of her that could hurt me--they'll do anything. If you'll -see Danny Gibbs and have him ship her, I'll be much obliged. And say, -Mr. Marriott, when you're seeing him, tell him to get that thing fixed -up and send me my bit. He'll understand. I don't mind telling you, at -that. There's a man here, a swell guy, a banker, who does business with -Dan. He's handled some of our paper--and that sort of thing, you know, -and I've got a draw coming there. It ain't much, about twenty-five -case, I guess, but it'd come in handy. Tell Dan to give the woman a -piece of it and send the rest to me here. I can use it just now buying -tobacco and milk and some little things I need. Dan'll understand all -about it." - -"Who is this swell guy you speak of--this banker?" - -Curly looked at Marriott with the suspicion that was necessarily -habitual with him, but his glance softened and he said: - -"I don't know him myself. I never saw him--his name's Hunt, no, Hunter, -or some such thing. Know him?" - -Marriott's heart leaped; he struggled to control himself. - -"Course, you understand, Mr. Marriott," said Curly, fearing he had been -indiscreet, "this is all between ourselves." - -"Oh, of course, you can depend on me." - -He was anxious now to get away; he could scarcely observe the few -decencies of decorum that the place demanded. And when he was once out -of the prison, he called a cab and drove with all speed to Gibbs's -place. On the way his mind worked rapidly, splendidly, under its -concentration. When he reached the well-known quiet little saloon in -Kentucky Street, Gibbs took him into the back room, and there, where -Gibbs had been told of the desperate plights of so many men, Marriott -told him of the plight of Dick Ward. When he had done, he leaned across -the table and said: - -"And you'll help me, Dan?" - -Gibbs made no reply, but instead smoked and blinked at Marriott -curiously. Just as Marriott's hopes were falling, Gibbs broke the -silence: - -"It's the girl you're interested in," he said gruffly, "not the kid." -He looked at Marriott shrewdly, and when Marriott saw that he looked not -at all unkindly or in any sense with that cynical contempt of the -sentimental that might have been expected of such a man, Marriott -smiled. - -"Well, yes, you're right. I am interested in her." - -Gibbs threw him one look and then tilted back, gazed upward to the -ceiling, puffed meditatively at his cigar, and presently said, as if -throwing out a mere tentative suggestion: - -"I wonder if it wouldn't do that old geezer good to take a sea-voyage?" - -Marriott's heart came into his throat with a little impulse of fear. He -felt uneasy--this was dangerous ground for a lawyer who respected the -ethics of his profession, and here he was, plotting with this go-between -of criminals. Criminals--and yet who were the criminals he went -between? These relations, after all, seemed to have a high as well as a -low range--was there any so-called class of society whom Gibbs could -not, at times, serve? - -"Let's see," Gibbs was saying, "where is this now? Canada used to do, -but that's been put on the bum. Mexico ain't so bad, they say, and some -of them South American countries does pretty well, though they complain -of the eatin', and there's nothing doing anyway. A couple of friends of -mine down in New York went to a place somewhere called--let's -see--called Algiers, ain't it?" - -Marriott did not like to speak, but he nodded. - -"Is that a warm country?" - -"Yes." - -"Where is it?" - -"It's on the shores of the Mediterranean." - -"Now that don't tell me any more than I knew before," said Gibbs, "but -if the climate's good for old guys with the coin, that's about all we -want. It'll make the front all right, especially at this time o' year." - -Marriott nodded again. - -"All right, that'll do. An old banker goes there for his health--just -as if it was Hot Springs." - -Gibbs thought a moment longer. - -"Now, of course, the kid's father'll make it good, won't he? He'll put -up?" - -"Yes," said Marriott. He was rather faint and sick about it all--and -yet it was working beautifully, and it must be done. Even then Ward was -pacing the floor somewhere--and Elizabeth, she was waiting and depending -on him. "Shall I bring you his check?" - -"Hell, no!" exclaimed Gibbs. "We'll want the cash. I'll get it of him. -The fewer hands, the better." - -Marriott was wild to get away; he could scarcely wait, but he remembered -suddenly Curly's commissions, and he must attend to them, of course. He -felt a great gratitude just now to Curly. - -When Marriott told Gibbs of Curly's request, Gibbs shook his head -decidedly and said: - -"No, I draw the line at refereeing domestic scraps. If Curly wants to go -frame in with a moll, it's his business; I can't do anything." And then -he dryly added: "Nobody can, with Jane; she's hell!" - - - - - XXVIII - - -One morning, a week later, as they sat at breakfast, Ward handed his -newspaper across to Elizabeth, indicating an item in the social column, -and Elizabeth read: - - -"Mr. Amos Hunter, accompanied by his daughter, Miss Agnes Hunter, sailed -from New York yesterday on the steamer _King Emanuel_ for Naples. Mr. -Hunter goes abroad for his health, and will spend the winter in Italy." - - -Elizabeth looked up. - -"That means--?" - -"That it's settled," Ward replied. - -She grew suddenly weak, in the sense of relief that seemed to dissolve -her. - -"Unless," Ward added, and Elizabeth caught herself and looked at her -father fearfully, "Hunter should come back." - -"But will he?" - -"Some time, doubtless." - -"Oh, dear! Then the suspense isn't over at all!" - -"Well, it's over for the present, anyway. Eades can do nothing, so -Marriott says, as long as Hunter is away, and even if he were to return, -the fact that Hunter accepted the money and credited it on his books--in -some fashion--would make it exceedingly difficult to prove anything, and -of course, under any circumstances, Hunter wouldn't dare--now." - -Elizabeth sat a moment idly playing with a fork, and her father studied -the varying expressions of her face as the shades came and went in her -sensitive countenance. Her brow clouded in some little perplexity, then -cleared again, and at last she sighed. - -"I feel a hundred years old," she said. "Hasn't it been horrible?" - -"I feel like a criminal myself," said Ward. - -"We are criminals--all of us," she said, dealing bluntly, cruelly with -herself. "We ought all of us to be in the penitentiary, if anybody -ought." - -"Yes," he acquiesced. - -"Only," she said, "nobody ought. I've learned that, anyway." - -"What would you do with them?" he asked, in the comfort of entering the -realm of the abstract. - -"With us?" - -"Well--with the criminals." - -"Send us to the penitentiary, I suppose." - -"You are delightfully illogical, Betsy," he said, trying to laugh. - -"That's all we can be," she said. "It's the only logical way." - -Then they were silent, for the maid entered. - -"Have we really committed a crime?" she asked, when the door swung on -the maid, who came and went so unconsciously in the midst of these -tragic currents. "Don't tell me--if we have." - -"I don't know," said Ward. "I presume I'd rather not know. I know I've -gone through enough to make me miserable the rest of my life. I know -that we have settled nothing--that we have escaped nothing--except what -people will say." - -"Yes, mama, after all, was the only one wise enough to understand and -appreciate the real significance." - -"Well, there's nothing more we can do now," he replied. - -"No, we must go on living some way." She got up, went around the table -and kissed him on the forehead. "We'll just lock our little skeleton in -the family closet, papa, and once in a while go and take a peep at him. -There may be some good in that--he'll keep us from growing proud, -anyway." - -Ward and Marriott had decided to say as little to Elizabeth as possible -of their transaction. Ward had gone through a week of agony. In a day -or two he had raised the little fortune, and kept it ready, and he had -been surprised and a bit perturbed when Gibbs had come and in quite a -matter-of-fact way asked for the amount in cash. Ward had helplessly -turned it over to him with many doubts and suspicions; but he knew no -other way. Afterward, when Gibbs returned and gave him Hunter's -receipt, he had felt ashamed of these doubts and had hoped Gibbs had not -noticed them, but Gibbs had gone away without a word, save a gruff: - -"Well, that's fixed, Mr. Ward." - -And yet Elizabeth had wondered about it all. Her conscience troubled -her acutely, so acutely that when Marriott came over that evening for -the praise he could not forego, and perhaps for a little spiritual -corroboration and comfort, she said: - -"Gordon, you have done wonders. I can't thank you." - -"Don't try," he said. "It's nothing." - -She looked troubled. Her brows darkened, and then, unable to resist the -impulse any longer, she asked: - -"But, Gordon, was it right?" - -"What?" he asked, quite needlessly, as they both knew. - -"What you--what we--did?" - -"Yes, it was right." - -"Was it legal?" - -"N-no." - -"Ah!" She was silent a moment. "What is it called?" - -"What?" - -"You know very well--our crime. I _must_ know the worst. I must know -just how bad I am." - -"You wish to have it labeled, classified, as Doctor Tilson would have -it?" - -"Yes, tell me." - -"I believe," said Marriott looking away and biting his upper lip, "that -it's called compounding a felony, or something of that sort." - -He was silent and she was silent. Then he spoke again. - -"They disbarred poor old Billy Gale for less than that." - -She looked at him, her gray eyes winking rapidly as they did when she -was interested and her mind concentrated on some absorbing problem. -Then she impulsively clasped her white hands in her lap, and, leaning -over, she asked out of the psychological interest the situation must -soon or late have for her: - -"Tell me, Gordon, just how you felt when you were--" - -"Committing it?" - -She nodded her head rapidly, almost impatiently. - -"Well," he said with a far-away expression, "I experienced, especially -when I was in Danny Gibbs's saloon, that pleasant feeling of going to -hell." - -"You just _won't_ reassure me," she said, relaxing into a hopeless -attitude. - -"Oh, yes, I will," he replied. "Don't you remember what Emerson says?" -He looked up at the portrait of the beautiful, spiritual face above the -mantel. - -She looked up in her vivid literary interest. - -"No; tell me. He said everything." - -"Yes, everything there is to say. He said, 'Good men must not obey the -laws too well.'" - - - - - XXIX - - -When Eades read the announcement of Hunter's departure for Italy he was -first surprised, then indignant, then relieved. Hunter had reported -Dick's crime in anger, the state of mind in which most criminal -prosecutions are begun. The old man had trembled until Eades feared for -him; as he sat there with pallid lips relating the circumstances, he was -not at all the contained, mild and shrewd old financier Eades so long -had known. - -"We must be protected, Mr. Eades,"--he could hear the shrill cry for -days--"we must be protected from these thieves! They are the worst of -all, sir; the worst of all! I want this young scoundrel arrested and -sent to the penitentiary right away, sir, right away!" - -Eades had seen that the old man was in fear, and that in his fear he had -turned to him as toward that ancient corner-stone of society, the -criminal statute. And now he had fled! - -Eades knew, of course, that some one had tampered with him; and, of -course, the defalcation had been made good, and now Hunter would be an -impossible witness. Even Eades could imagine Hunter on the stand, not -as he had been in his office that day, angry, frightened, keenly -conscious of his wrong and recalling minutely all the details; but -senile, a little deaf, leaning forward with a hand behind his ear, a -grin on his withered face, remembering nothing, not cognizant of the -details of his bookkeeping--sitting there, with his money safe in his -pocket, while the case collapsed, Dick was acquitted in triumph--and he, -John Eades, made ridiculous. - -But what was he to do? After all, in the eye of the law, Hunter was not -a witness; and, besides, it was possible that, technically, the felony -might not have been compounded. At any rate, if it had been he could -not prove it, and as for proceeding now against Ward, that was too much -to expect, too much even for him to exact of himself. When a definite -case was laid before him with the evidence to support it, his duty was -plain, but he was not required to go tilting after wind-mills, to -investigate mere suspicions. It was a relief to resign himself to this -conclusion. Now he could only wait for Hunter's return, and have him -brought in when he came, but probably, in the end, it would come to -nothing. Yes, it was a relief, and he could think hopefully once more -of Elizabeth. - - -The fourteenth of May--the date for the execution of the sentence of -death against Archie--was almost on him before Marriott filed his -petition in error in the Appellate Court and a motion for suspension of -sentence. He had calculated nicely. As the court could not hear and -determine the case before the day of execution, the motion was granted, -and the execution postponed. Marriott's relief was exquisite; he -hastened to send a telegram to Archie, and was happy, so happy that he -could laugh at the editorial which Edwards printed the next morning, -calling for reforms in the criminal code which would prevent "such -travesties as were evidently to be expected in the Koerner case." - -Marriott could laugh, because he knew how hypocritical Edwards was, but -Edwards's editorials had influence in other quarters, and Marriott more -and more regretted his simple little act of kindness--or of weakness--in -loaning Edwards the ten dollars. If the newspapers would desist, he -felt sure that in time, when public sentiment had undergone its -inevitable reaction, he might secure a commutation of Archie's sentence; -but if Edwards, in order to vent his spleen, continued to keep alive the -spirit of the mob, then there was little hope. - -"If he could only be sent to prison for life!" said Elizabeth, as they -discussed this aspect of the case. "No,"--she hastened to correct -herself--"for twenty years; that would do." - -"It would be the same thing," said Marriott. - -"What do you mean?" Elizabeth leaned forward with a puzzled expression -in her gray eyes. - -"All sentences to the penitentiary are sentences for life. We pretend -they're not, but if a man lives to get out--do we treat him as if he had -paid the debt? No, he's a convict still. Look at Archie, for -instance." - -"Look at Harry Graves! Oh, Gordon,"--Elizabeth suddenly sat up and made -an impatient gesture--"I can't forget him! And Gusta! And those men I -saw as they were taken from the jail!" - -"You mustn't worry about it; you can't help it." - -"Oh, that's what they all tell me! 'Don't worry about it--you can't -help it!' No! But you worried about Archie--and about"--she closed her -eyes, and he watched their white lids droop in pain--"and about Dick." - -"I knew them." - -"Yes," she said, nodding her head, "you knew them--that explains it all. -We don't know the others, and so we don't care. Some one knows them, of -course, or did, once, in the beginning. It makes me so unhappy! Don't, -please, ever any more tell me not to worry, or that I can't help it. -Try to think out some way in which I can help it, won't you?" - -Meanwhile, Edwards's editorials were doing their work. They had an -effect on Eades, of course, because the _Courier_ was the organ of his -party, to which he had to look for renomination. And they produced -their effect on the judges of the Appellate Court, who also belonged to -that party, but, not knowing Edwards, thought his anonymous utterances -the voice of the people, which, at times, in the ears of politicians -sounds like the voice of God. The court heard the case early in June; -in two weeks it was decided. When Marriott entered the court-room on -the morning the decision was to be rendered, his heart sank. On the -left of the bench were piled some law-books, and behind them, peeping -surreptitiously, he recognized the transcript in the Koerner case. It -was much like other transcripts, to be sure, but to Marriott it was as -familiar as the features of a friend with whom one has gone through -trouble. The transcript lay on the desk before Judge Gardner's empty -chair and therefore he knew that the decision was to be delivered by -Gardner, and he feared that it was adverse, for Gardner had been severe -with him and had asked him questions during the argument. - -The bailiff had stood up, rapped on his desk, and Marriott, Eades and -the other lawyers in the courtroom rose to simulate a respect for the -court entertained only by those who felt that they were likely to win -their cases. The three judges paced solemnly in, and when they were -seated and the presiding judge had made a few announcements, Gardner -leaned forward, pulled the transcript toward him, balanced his gold -glasses on his nose, cleared his throat, and in a deep bass voice and in -a manner somewhat strained, began to announce the decision. Before he -had uttered half a dozen sentences, Marriott knew that he had lost -again. The decision of the lower court was affirmed in what was -inevitably called by the newspapers an able opinion, and the day of -Archie's death was once more fixed--this time for the twenty-first of -October. - -A few weeks later, Marriott saw Archie at the penitentiary. He had gone -to the state capital to argue to the Supreme Court old man Koerner's -case against the railroad company. Several weeks before he had tried -the case in the Appellate Court, and had won, the court affirming the -judgment. This case seemed now to be the only hope of the family, and -Marriott was anxious to have it heard by the Supreme Court before the -learned justices knew of Archie's case, lest the relation of the old man -and the boy prejudice them. He felt somehow that if he failed in -Archie's case, a victory in the father's case would go far to dress the -balance of the scales of justice and preserve the equilibrium of things. -It was noon when Marriott was at the penitentiary, and he was glad that -the men who were waiting to be killed were then taking their exercise, -for he was spared the depression of the death-chamber. He met Archie -under the blackened locust tree in the quadrangle. Archie was hopeful -that day. - -"I feel lucky," said Archie. "I'll not have to punish,--think so, Mr. -Marriott?" - -"We've got lots of time," Marriott replied, not knowing what else to -say, "the Supreme Court doesn't sit till fall." - -Pritchard, the poisoner, laid his slender white hand on Archie's -shoulder. - -"Good boy you've got here, Mr. Marriott," he said jokingly, "but a -trifle wild." - -Marriott laughed, and wondered how he could laugh. - -Just then a whistle blew, and the convicts in close-formed ranks filed -by on their way to dinner. As they went by, one of them glanced at him -with a smile of recognition; a smile which, as Marriott saw, the man at -once repressed, as the convict is compelled to repress all signs of -human feeling. Marriott stared, then suddenly remembered; it was a man -named Brill, whom he had known years before. And he, like the rest of -the world, had forgotten Brill! He had not even cast him a glance of -sympathy! He felt like running after the company--but it was too late; -Brill must go without the one little kindness that might have made one -day, at least, happier, or if not that, shorter for him. - -The last gray-garbed company marched by, the guard with his club at his -shoulder. The rear of this company was brought up by a convict, plainly -of the fourth grade, for he was in stripes and his head was shaved. He -walked painfully, with the aid of a crooked cane, lifting one foot after -the other, flinging it before him and then slapping it down uncertainly -with a disagreeable sound to the pavement. - -"What's the matter with that man?" asked Marriott. - -"They say he has locomotor ataxia," said Beck, the death-watch, "but -he's only shamming. He's no good." - - - - - XXX - - -Archie had lived in the death-chamber at the penitentiary for nine -months. Three times had the day of his death been fixed; the first -time, by Glassford for the fourteenth of May, the second time by the -Appellate Court for the twenty-first of October. Then, the third time -the seven justices of the Supreme Court, sitting in their black and -solemn gowns, sustained the lower court, and set the day anew, this time -for the twenty-third of November. Then came the race to the Pardon -Board; where Marriott and Eades again fought over Archie's life. The -Pardon Board refused to recommend clemency. But one hope remained--the -governor. It was now the twenty-second of November--one day more. -Archie waited that long afternoon in the death-chamber, while Marriott -at the state house pleaded with the governor for a commutation of his -sentence to imprisonment for life. - -Already the prison authorities had begun the arrangements. That -afternoon Archie had heard them testing the electric chair; he had -listened to the thrumming of its current; twice, thrice, half a dozen -times, they had turned it on. Then Jimmy Ball had come in, peered an -instant, without a word, then shambled away, his stick hooked over his -arm. It was very still in the death-chamber that afternoon. The eight -other men confined there, like Archie, spent their days in reviving hope -within their breasts; like him, they had experienced the sensation of -having the day of their death fixed, and then lived to see it postponed, -changed, postponed and fixed again. They had known the long suspense, -the alternate rise and fall of hope, as in the courts the state had -wrangled with their lawyers for their lives. Not once had Burns, the -negro, twanged his guitar. Lowrie, who was writing a history of his -wasted life, had allowed his labor to languish, and sat now moodily -gazing at the pieces of paper he had covered with his illiterate -writing. Old man Stewart, who had strangled his young wife in a jealous -rage, lay on his iron cot, his long white beard spread on his breast, -strangely suggestive of the appearance he soon would present in death. -Kulaski, the Slav, who had slain a saloon-keeper for selling beer to his -son, and never repented, was moody and morose; Belden and Waller had -consented to an intermission of their quarrelsome argument about -religion. The intermission had the effect of a deference to Archie; the -argument was not to be resumed until after Archie's death, when he -might, indeed, be supposed to have solved the problem they constantly -debated, and to have no further interest in it. Pritchard, the -poisoner, a quiet fellow, and Muller had ceased their interminable game -of cribbage, the cards lay scattered on the table, the little pins stuck -in the board where they had left them, to resume their count another -time. The gloom of Archie's nearing fate hung over these men, yet none -of them was thinking of Archie; each was thinking of an evening which -would be to him as this evening was to Archie, unless--there was always -that word "unless"; it made their hearts leap painfully. - -Just outside the iron grating which separated from the antechamber the -great apartment where they existed in the hope of living again, Beck, -the guard, sat in his well-worn splint-bottomed chair. He had tilted it -against the wall, and, with his head thrown back, seemed to slumber. -His coarse mouth was open, his purple nose, thrown thus into prominence, -was grotesque, his filthy waistcoat rose and stretched and fell as his -flabby paunch inflated with his breathing. Beside the hot stove, just -where the last shaft of the sun, falling through the barred window, -could fall on her, a black cat, fat and sleek, that haunted the chamber -with her uncanny feline presence, stretched herself, and yawned, curling -her delicate tongue. - -When Archie entered the death-chamber, there had been eleven men in it. -But the number had decreased. He could remember distinctly each separate -exit. One by one they had gone out, never to return. There was Mike -Thomas; he would remember the horror of that to the end of his life, as, -with the human habit, he expressed it to Marriott, insensible of the -grim irony of the phrase in that place of deliberate death, where, after -all, life persisted on its own terms and with its common phrases and -symbols. The newspapers had called it a harrowing scene; the inmates of -the death-chamber had whispered about it, calling it a bungle, and the -affair had magnified and distorted itself to their imaginations, and -they had dwelt on it with a covert morbidity. The newspapers next day -were denied them, but they knew that it had required three shocks--they -could count them by the thrumming of the currents, each time the prison -had shaken with the howl of the awakened convicts in the cell-house. -Bill Arnold, the negro who had killed a real estate agent, had been the -most concerned; his day was but a week after Thomas's. The strain had -been too much for Arnold; he had collapsed, raved like a maniac, then -sobbed, fallen on his knees and yammered a prayer to Jimmy Ball, as if -the deputy warden were a god. They had dragged him out, still on his -knees, moaning "God be merciful; God be merciful." - -They had missed Arnold. He was a jolly negro, who could sing and tell -stories, and do buck-and-wing dancing, and, when Ball was away, and the -guard's back turned, give perfect imitations of them both. They missed -him out of their life in that chamber, or rather out of their death. It -seemed strange to think that one minute he was among them, full of warm -pulsing life and strength--and that the next, he should be dead. They -missed him, as men miss a fellow with whom they have eaten and slept for -months. - -These men in the state shambles were there, the law had said, for -murder. But this was only in a sense true. One was there, for -instance, because his lawyer had made a mistake; he had not kept -accurate account of his peremptory challenges; he thought he had -exhausted but fifteen, whereas he had exhausted sixteen; that is, all of -them, and so had been unable to remove from the jury a man whom he had -irritated and offended by his persistent questioning; he had been quite -sarcastic, intending to challenge the man peremptorily in a few moments. -Another man was there because the judge before whom he was tried, having -quarreled with his wife one morning, was out of humor all that day, and -had ridiculed his lawyer, not in words, but by sneers and curlings of -his lip, which could not be preserved in the record. -Another--Pritchard, to be exact--was there, first, because he had been a -chemist; secondly, because he, like the judge, had had a quarrel with -his wife; thirdly, because his wife had died suddenly, and traces of -cyanide of potassium had been found in her stomach--at least three of -the four doctors who had conducted the post-mortem examination had said -the traces were of cyanide of potassium--and fourthly, because a small -vial was discovered in the room in which were also traces of cyanide of -potassium; at least, three chemists declared the traces were those of -cyanide of potassium. And all of them were there for some such reason -as this, and all of them, with the possible exception of Pritchard, had -taken human life. And yet each one had felt, and still felt, that the -circumstances under which he had killed were such as to warrant killing; -such, indeed, as to make it at the moment seem imperative and necessary, -just as the State felt that in killing these men, circumstances had -arisen which made it justifiable, imperative and necessary to kill. - - -Though Archie waited in suspense, the afternoon was short, short even -beyond the shortness of November, and at five o'clock Marriott came. He -lingered just outside the entrance to the chamber in the little room -that was fitted up somehow like a chapel, the room in which the death -chair was placed. The guard brought Archie out, and he leaned -carelessly against the rail that surrounded the chair, mysterious and -sinister under its draping of black oil-cloth. The rail railed off the -little platform on which the chair was placed just as a chancel-rail -rails off an altar, possibly because so many people regarded the chair -in the same sacred light that they regarded an altar, and spoke of it as -if its rite were quite as saving and sacerdotal. But Archie leaned -against the rail calmly, negligently, and it made Marriott's flesh creep -to see him thus unmoved and practical. He did not speak, but he looked -his last question out of his blue eyes. - -"The governor hasn't decided yet," Marriott said. "I've spent the -afternoon with him. I've labored with him--God!" he suddenly paused and -sighed in utter weariness at the recollection of the long hours in which -he had clung to the governor--"I'm to see him again at eight o'clock at -the executive mansion. He's to give me a final answer then." - -"At eight o'clock?" The words slipped from Archie's lips as softly as -his breath. - -"This evening," said Marriott, dreading now the thought of fixity of -time. He looked at Archie; and it was almost more than he could endure. -Archie's eyes were fastened on him; his gaze seemed to cling to him in -final desperation. - -"Oh, in the name of God," Archie suddenly whispered, leaning toward him, -his face directly in his, "do something, Mr. Marriott! _something_! -_something_! I can't, I can't die to-night! If it's only a little more -time--just another day--but not to-night! Not to-night! Do something, -Mr. Marriott; _something_!" - -Marriott seized Archie's hand. It was cold and wet. He wrung it as hard -as he could. There were no words for such a moment as this. Words but -mocked. - -He saw Archie's chest heave, and the cords tighten in his swelling neck. -Marriott could only look at him--this boy, for whom he had come to have -an affection--so young, so strong, with the great gloom of death -prematurely, unnecessarily, in his face! - -But the face cleared suddenly,--Archie still could think, and he -remembered--he remembered Curly, and Mason and old Dillon, and Gibbs, he -recalled the only ideals he knew--like all of us, he could live up only -to such ideals as he had--he remembered that he must be game. He -straightened, Marriott saw the fine and supple play of the muscles of -his chest, its white skin revealed through his open shirt. - -"So long, Mr. Marriott," said Archie, and then turned and went back into -the death-chamber. - -Outside, in the twilight that was filling the quadrangle, Marriott -passed along, the gloom of the place he had left filling his soul. The -trusty who had conducted him to the death-chamber paced in silence by -his side. He passed the great tree, gaunt and bare and black now, the -tree under which he had seen that summer day these doomed men take their -exercise, with the Sunday-school scholars standing by and gazing on with -curious covert glances and perverted thoughts. He wished that time had -paused on that day--he had had hope then; this thing as to Archie, it -then had seemed, simply could not be; it might, he had felt, very well -be as to those other doomed men; indeed, it seemed certain and -irrevocable; but as to Archie, no, it could not be. And yet, here it -was, the night before the day--and but one more hope between them and -the end. He hastened on, anxious to get out of the place. Any moment -the whistle might blow and he would have to wait until the men had come -from their work; the gates could not be unlocked at that time, or until -the men were locked again in their cells. They were passing the chapel, -and suddenly he heard music--the playing of a piano. He stopped and -listened. He heard the deep bass notes of Grieg's _Ode to the Spring_, -played now with a pathos he had never known before. - -"What's that?" he asked the trusty. - -"That playing? That's young Ernsthauser. He's a swell piano player." - -"May we look in?" - -"Sure." - -They entered, and stood just inside the door. A young German, in the -gray convict garb, was seated at a piano, his delicate hands straying -over the keys. One gas-jet burned in the wall above the piano, shedding -its faint circle of light around the pianist, glistening on the dark -panels of the instrument, lighting the pale face of the boy--he was but -a boy--and then losing itself in the great darkness that hung thick and -soft and heavy in the vast auditorium. Marriott looked and listened in -silence; tears came to his eyes, a vast pity welled within him, and he -knew that never again would he hear the _Ode_ without experiencing the -pity and the pain of this day. He wished, indeed, that he had not heard -it. The musician played on, rapt and alone, unconscious of their -presence. - -"Tell me about that fellow," said Marriott, as they stole away. - -"Oh, he was a musician outside. The warden lets him play. The warden -likes music. I've seen him cry when Ernsthauser plays. He plays for -visitors, and he picks up, they say, a good bit of money every day. The -visitors, except the Sunday-schools, give him tips." - -"How long is he in for?" - -"Life." - -The word fell like a blow on Marriott. Life! What paradoxes were in -this place! What perverted meanings--if there were any meanings left in -the world. This one word life, in one part of the prison meant life -indeed; now it meant death. Was there any difference in the words, -after all--life and death? Life in death; death in life? With Archie -it was death in life, with this musician, life in death--no, it was the -other way. But was it? Marriott could not decide. The words meant -nothing, after all. - -The delay in the chapel kept Marriott in the prison for half an hour. -He would not watch the convicts march again to their cells; he did not -wish to hear the clanging of the gong nor the thud of the bolts that -locked them in for the night. - -The warden, a ruddy and rotund man, spoke pleasantly to him and asked -him into his office. The warden sat in a big swivel chair before his -roll-top desk, and, while Marriott waited, locked in now like the rest, -they chatted. It was incomprehensible to Marriott that this man could -chat casually and even laugh, when he knew that he must stay up that -night to do such a deed as the law required of him. The consciousness, -indeed, must have lain on the warden, try as he might not to show it, -for, presently, the warden himself, as if he could not help it, referred -to the event. - -"How's Archie taking it?" he asked. - -Marriott might have replied conventionally, or politely, that he was -taking it well, but he somehow resented this man's casual and contained -manner. And so, looking him in the eyes, and meaning to punish him, he -said: - -"He's trying to _appear_ game, but he's taking it hard." - -"Hard, eh?" - -"Yes, hard." Marriott looked at him sternly. "Tell me," he emboldened -himself to ask, "how can you do it?" - -The warden's face became suddenly hard. - -"Do it? Bah! I could switch it into all of them fellows in there--like -that!" He snapped his fat fingers in the air with a startling, -suggestive electric sound. And for a moment afterward his upper lip -curled with a cruelty that appalled Marriott. He looked at this man, -this executioner, who seemed to be encompassed all at once with a kind -of subtle, evil fascination. Marriott looked at his face--then in some -way at the finger and thumb which, a moment before, had snapped their -indifference in the air. And he started, for suddenly he recalled that -Doctor Tyler Tilson had declared, in the profound scientific treatise he -had written for the _Post_, that Archie had the spatulate finger-tips -and the stubbed finger-nails that were among the stigmata of the -homicide, and Marriott saw that the fingers of the warden were -spatulate, their nails were broad and stubbed, imbedded in the flesh. -And this man liked music--cried when the life-man played! - -"Won't you stop and have dinner with me?" the warden asked. "You can -stay for the execution, too, if you wish." - -"No, thank you," said Marriott hurriedly. The thought of sitting down -to dine with this man on this evening was abhorrent, loathsome to him. -He might have sat down and eaten with Archie and his companions, or with -those convicts whose distant shuffling feet he heard; he could have -eaten their bread, wet and salt with their tears, but he could not eat -with this man. And yet, sensitively, he could not let this man detect -his loathing. - -"No," he said, "I must get back to my hotel--" and the thought of the -hotel, with its light and its life, filled him with instant longing. "I -have another appointment with the governor this evening." - -"Oh, he won't do anything," said the warden. - -The words depressed Marriott, and he hurried away with them persistently -ringing in his ears, glad at least to get away from the great pile that -hid so much sorrow and misery and shame from the world, and now sat -black against the gathering night, under the shadow of a mighty wing. - - -At eight o'clock that evening Archie was sitting on the edge of his cot, -smoking one of the Russian cigarettes Marriott had brought him in the -afternoon. The pungent and unusual odor filled the death-chamber, and -the other waiting men (who nevertheless did not have to die that night) -sniffed, some suspiciously, some with the air of connoisseurs. - -"Ha!" said Pritchard, turning his pale face slowly about, "imported, -eh?" - -Then Archie passed them around, though somewhat reluctantly. Marriott -had brought him several boxes of these cigarettes, and Archie knew they -were the kind Marriott smoked himself. He was generous enough; this -brotherhood of doomed men held all things in common, like the early -Christians, sharing their little luxuries, but Archie felt that it was -useless to waste such cigarettes on men who would be alive to-morrow; -especially when it was doubtful if there would be enough for himself. - -The warden had sent him a supper which was borne in with the effect of -being the last and highest excellence to which the culinary art could -attain. If there was anything, Ball reported the warden as having said, -that was then in market, and was not there he'd like to know what it -was. The generosity of the warden had not been limited to Archie; the -others were treated to a like repast; there was turkey for all. Archie -had not eaten much; he had made an effort and smiled and thanked the -warden when he strolled in afterward for his meed of praise. Archie -found the cigarettes sufficient. He sat there almost without moving, -smoking them one after another, end to end, lighting a fresh one from -the cork-tipped stub of the one he was about to fling away. He sat and -smoked, his eyes blinked in his white face, and his brows contracted as -he tried to think. He was not, of course, at any time, capable of -sustained or logical thought, and now his thoughts were merely a muddle -of impressions, a curiosity as to whether he would win or lose, as if he -were gambling, and all this in the midst of a mighty wonder, vast, -immeasurable, profound, that was expanding slowly in his soul. - -How many times had he waited as he was waiting now, for word from -Marriott? May fourteenth, October twenty-first, November twenty-third. -What day was this? Oh, yes, the twenty-second. What time was it now? -... Kouka?--Kouka was dead; yes, dead. That was good ... And he himself -must die ... Die? What was that? ... May fourteenth, October -twenty-first, November twenty-third. He had already died three times. -No, he had died many more times than that; during the trial he had died -again and again, by day, by night. Here in the death-chamber he had -died; here on this very cot. Sometimes during the day, when they were -all strangely merry, when Bill Arnold was doing a song and dance, when -they had all forgotten, suddenly, in an instant, it would come over him, -and he would die--die there, amidst them all, with the sun streaming in -the window--die with a smile and a joke, perhaps while speaking to one -of them; they would not know he was dying. And in the night he died -often, nearly every night, suddenly he would find himself awake, staring -into the darkness; then he would remember it all, and he would die, live -over that death again, as it were. All about him the others would be -snoring, or groaning, muttering or cursing, like drunkards in their -sleep. Perhaps they were dying, too. Now, he must die again. And he -had already died a thousand deaths. Kouka had died, too, but only -once.... - -What was that? Marriott? His heart stopped. But, no, it was not -Marriott. There was still hope; there was always hope so long as -Marriott did not come. It was only the old Lutheran preacher, Mr. -Hoerr. He came to pray with him? This was strange, thought Archie. -Why should he pray now? What difference could that make? Prayers could -not save him; he had tried that, sometimes at night, as well as he -could, imploring, pleading, holding on with his whole soul, until he was -exhausted; but it did no good; no one, or nothing heard. The only thing -that could do any good now was the governor.... Still, he was glad it -was not Marriott. He had, suddenly, begun to dread the coming of -Marriott.... But this preacher? Well, he could pray if he wanted to, -it seemed to please him, to be a part somehow of the whole ceremony they -were going through. Yet he might pray if it gave him any pleasure. He -had read of their praying, always; but Mr. Hoerr must not expect him to -stop smoking cigarettes while he prayed. Archie lighted a fresh -cigarette hurriedly, inhaled the smoke, filling his lungs in every -cell.... The preacher had asked him if he was reconciled, if he were -ready to meet his God. Archie did not reply. He stared at the preacher, -the smoke streaming from his lips, from his nostrils. Ready to meet his -God? What a strange thing to ask! He was not ready, no; he had not -asked to meet his God, yet. There was no use in asking such a question; -if they were uncertain about it, or had any question, or feared any -danger they could settle it by just a word--a word from the governor. -Then he would not have to meet his God.... Where was his God anyhow? He -had no God.... These sky-pilots were strange fellows! He never knew -what to say to them.... "The blood of Jesus." ... Oh, yes, he had heard -that, too.... Was he being game? What would the papers say? Would the -old Market Place gang talk about it? And Mason, and Dillon, and Gibbs? -And Curly, too? They might as well; doubtless they would. They settled -whomever they pleased.... Out at Nussbaum's saloon in the old days.... -His mother, and Jakie and little Katie playing in the back yard, their -yellow heads bobbing in the sunshine.... And Gusta! Poor Gusta! -Whatever became of that chump of a Peltzer? He ought to have fixed -him.... The old man's rheumatic leg.... And that case of his against -the railroad.... John O'Brien--rattler.... What was the word for leg? -Oh, yes, gimp.... Well, he had made a mess of it.... If they would -only hang him, instead.... Why couldn't they? That would be so much -easier. He was used to thinking of that; so many men had gone through -that. But this new way, there was so much fuss about it.... Bill -Arnold.... What if? ... Ugh.... How cold it was! Had some one opened -the window?... - -Yes, he was the fall guy, all right, all right.... A black, intolerable -gloom, dread wastes like a desert. Thirst raged in his throat.... It -was dry and sanded.... How rank the cigarette tasted! ... Why did the -others huddle there in the back of the cage, their faces black, ugly, -brutal? Were they plotting? They might slip up on him, from behind. -He turned quickly.... Well, they would get theirs, too.... One day in -the wilderness of Samar when their company had been detailed to--the -flag--how green the woods were; the rushes-- - -His father hated him, too, yes, ever since.... Eades--Eades had done -this. God! What a cold proposition Eades was! ... One day when he was -a little kid, just as they came from school in the afternoon.... The -rifle range, and the captain smiling as he pinned his sharp-shooter's -medal on.... Where was his medal now? He meant to ask the warden to -have it pinned on his breast after--He must attend to that, and not -forget it. He had spoken to Beck about it and Beck had promised, but -Beck never did anything he said he would.... If, now, those bars were -not there, he could choke Beck, take his gun-- - -His mind suddenly became clear. With a yearning that was ineffable, -intolerable, he longed for some power to stay this thing--if he could -only try it all over again, he would do better now! His mind had become -clear, incandescent; he had a swift flashing conception of purity, -faith, virtue--but before he could grasp the conception it had gone. He -was crying, his mother, he remembered--but now he could not see her -face, he could see the shape of her head, her hair, her throat, but not -her face. He could, however, see her hands quite distinctly. They were -large, and brown, and wrinkled, and the fingers were curved so that they -were almost always closed.... But this was not being game; he needn't -say dying game just yet. - -Was that Marriott? No, the warden. He had brought him something. He -was thrusting it through the bars. A bottle! Archie seized it, pressed -it to his lips. Whisky! He drank long and long. Ah! That was better! -That did him good! That beat prayers, or tears, or solitaire, or even -wishing on the black cat. That made him warm, comfortable. There was -hope now. Marriott would bring that governor around! Marriott was a -hell of a smart fellow, even if he had lost his case. Perhaps, if he -had had Frisby,--Frisby was smart, too, and had a pull. He drank again. -That was better yet. What would it matter if the governor refused? It -wouldn't matter at all; it was all right. This stuff made him feel game. -How much was there in the bottle? ... Ah, the cigarettes tasted better, -too, now... - -Marriott? No, not this time. Well, that was good. It was the barber -come to "top" him. - -The barber shaved bare a little round spot on Archie's head, exposing a -bluish-white disk of scalp in the midst of his yellow locks. And then, -kneeling with his scissors, he slit each leg of Archie's trousers to the -knee. Then the warden drew a paper out of his pocket and began to read. - -Archie could not hear what he read. After the barber began shaving his -head, he fell into a stupor, and sat there, his eyes staring straight -before him, his mouth agape, a cigarette clinging to his lower lip and -dangling toward his chin. He looked like a young tonsured priest -suddenly become imbecile. - -When they finished, he still sat there. Some one was taking off his -shoes. Then there was a step. He looked up, as one returning from a -dream. He saw some one standing just within the door of the -antechamber. Marriott? No, it was not Marriott. It was the governor's -messenger. - - -Without in the cell-house the long corridors had been laid deep in -yellow sawdust, so that the fall of the feet of the midnight guests -might not awaken the convicts who slept so heavily, on the narrow bunks -in their cells, after their dreadful day of toil. - - - - - XXXI - - -"All ready, Archie." - -Jimmy Ball touched him on the shoulder. The grated door was open, and -Beck stood just inside it, his revolver drawn. He kept his eye on the -others, huddled there behind him. - -"Come, my boy." - -He made an effort, and stood up. He glanced toward the open grated -door, thence across the flagging to the other door, and tried to take a -step. Out there he could see one or two faces thrust forward suddenly; -they peered in, then hastily withdrew. He tried again to take a step, -but one leg had gone to sleep, it prickled, and as he bore his weight -upon it, it seemed to swell suddenly to elephantine proportions. And he -seemed to have no knees at all; if he stood up he would collapse. How -was he ever to walk that distance? - -"Here!" said Ball. "Get on that other side of him, Warden." - -Then they started. The Reverend Mr. Hoerr, waiting by the door, had -begun to read something in a strange, unnatural voice, out of a little -red book he held at his breast in both his hands. - -"Good-by, Archie!" they called from behind, and he turned, swayed a -little, and looked back over his shoulder. - -"Good-by, boys," he said. He had a glimpse of their faces; they looked -gray and ugly, worse even than they had that evening--or was it that -evening when with sudden fear he had seen them crouching there behind -him? - -Perhaps just at the last minute the governor would change his mind. -They were walking the long way to the door, six yards off. The flagging -was cold to his bare feet; his slit trouser-legs flapped miserably, -revealing his white calves. Walking had suddenly become laborious; he -had to lift each leg separately and manage it; he walked much as that -man in the rear rank of Company 21 walked. He would have liked to stop -and rest an instant, but Ball and the warden walked beside him, urged -him resistlessly along, each gripping him at the wrist and upper arm. - -In the room outside, Archie recognized the reporters standing in the -sawdust. What they were to write that night would be in the newspapers -the next morning, but he would not read it. He heard Beck lock the door -of the death-chamber, locking it hurriedly, so that he could be in time -to look on. Archie had no friend in the group of men that waited in -silence, glancing curiously at him, their faces white as the whitewashed -wall. The doctors held their watches in their hands. And there before -him was the chair, its oil-cloth cover now removed, its cane bottom -exposed. But he would have to step up on the little platform to get to -it. - -"No--yes, there you are, Archie, my boy!" whispered Ball. "There!" - -He was in it, at last. He leaned back; then, as his back touched the -back of the chair, started violently. But there were hands on his -shoulders pressing him down, until he could feel his back touch the -chair from his shoulders down to the very end of his spine. Some one -had seized his legs, turned back the slit trousers from his calves. - -"Be quick!" he heard the warden say in a scared voice. He was at his -right side where the switch and the indicator were. - -There were hands, too, at his head, at his arms--hands all over him. He -took one last look. Had the governor--? Then the leather mask was -strapped over his eyes and it was dark. He could only feel and hear -now--feel the cold metal on his legs, feel the moist sponge on the top -of his head where the barber had shaved him, feel the leather straps -binding his legs and arms to the legs and the arms of the chair, binding -them tightly, so that they gave him pain, and he could not move. -Helpless he lay there, and waited. He heard the loud ticking of a -watch; then on the other side of him the loud ticking of another watch; -fingers were at his wrists. There was no sound but the mumble of Mr. -Hoerr's voice. Then some one said: - -"All ready." - -He waited a second, or an age, then, suddenly, it seemed as if he must -leap from the chair, his body was swelling to some monstrous, -impossible, unhuman shape; his muscles were stretched, millions of hot -and dreadful needles were piercing and pricking him, a stupendous -roaring was in his ears, then a million colors, colors he had never seen -or imagined before, colors no one had ever seen or imagined, colors -beyond the range of the spectra, new, undiscovered, summoned by some -mysterious agency from distant corners of the universe, played before -his eyes. Suddenly they were shattered by a terrific explosion in his -brain--then darkness. - -But no, there was still sensation; a dull purple color slowly spread -before him, gradually grew lighter, expanded, and with a mighty pain he -struggled, groping his way in torture and torment over fearful obstacles -from some far distance, remote as black stars in the cold abyss of the -universe; he struggled back to life--then an appalling confusion, a -grasp at consciousness; he heard the ticking of the two watches--then, -through his brain there slowly trickled a thread of thought that -squirmed and glowed like a white-hot wire... - -A faint groan escaped the pale lips below the black leather mask, a -tremor ran through the form in the chair, then it relaxed and was still. - -"It's all over." The doctor, lifting his fingers from Archie's wrist, -tried to smile, and wiped the perspiration from his face with a -handkerchief. - - -Some one flung up a window, and a draught of cool air sucked through the -room. On the draught was borne from the death-chamber the stale odor of -Russian cigarettes. And then a demoniacal roar shook the cell-house. -The convicts had been awake. - - - - - XXXII - - -Late in the winter the cable brought the news that Amos Hunter had died -at Capri. Though the conventionalities were observed, it was doubtful -if the event caused even a passing regret in the city where Hunter had -been one of the wealthiest citizens. The extinction of this cold and -selfish personality was noted, of course, by the closing of his bank for -a day; the Chamber of Commerce, the Board of Trade, and the Stock -Exchange adopted the usual resolutions, and the newspapers printed -editorials in which the old canting, hypocritical phrases were paraded. -To his widow, beyond the shock that came with the breaking of the habit -of years, there was a mild regret, and the daughter, who was with him -when he died, after the American consul had come to her assistance and -arranged to send the body home, experienced a stealthy pleasure in her -homeward journey she had not known on the outward voyage. - -But to the Wards the news came as a distinct relief, for now the danger, -if it ever was a danger, that had hung over them for months was -definitely removed. They had grown so accustomed to its presence, -however, the suspense and uncertainty had become so much a part of their -lives that they did not recognize its reality until they found it -removed altogether. Ward and Elizabeth had now and then talked about it -and speculated on its possibilities of trouble in a world where there -was so much trouble; and Mrs. Ward had been haunted by the fear of what -her world might say. Now that this danger was passed, she could look on -it as a thing that was as if it never had been, and she fondled and -caressed her full-grown son more than ever. Ward was glad, but he was -not happy. He saw that Dick's character had been marked definitely. The -boy had escaped the artificial law that man had made, but he had not -evaded the natural law, and Ward realized, though perhaps not so clearly -as Elizabeth realized, that Dick must go on paying the penalty in his -character year after year--perhaps to the end of his days. - -If it made any real difference to Dick, he did not show it. Very early -in the experience he seemed to be fully reassured, and Ward and -Elizabeth and Marriott saw plainly that he was not wise enough to find -the good that always is concealed somewhere in the bad. Dick took up -his old life, and, so far as his restricted opportunities now permitted, -sought his old sensations. Elizabeth sadly observed the continued -disintegration of his character, expressed to her by such coarse -physical manifestations as his excessive eating and drinking and -smoking. And she saw that there was nothing she or any one could now -do; that no one could help him but himself, and that, like the story of -the prodigal of old, which suddenly revealed its hidden meaning to her -in this personal contact with a similar experience, he must continue to -feed on husks until he came to himself. How few, she thought, had come -to themselves! Elizabeth had been near to boasting that her own eyes -had been opened, and they had, indeed, been washed by tears, but now she -humbly wondered if she had come to herself as yet. She had long ago -given up the fictions of society which her mother yet revered; she had -abandoned her formal charities, finding them absurd and inadequate. -Meanwhile, she waited patiently, hoping that some day she might find the -way to life. - -She saw nothing of Eades, though she was constantly hearing of his -success. His conviction of Archie had given him prestige. He -considered the case against Curly Jackson, but finding it impossible to -convict him, feeling a lack of public sentiment, he was forced to nolle -the indictment against him and reluctantly let him go. In fact, Eades -was having his trouble in common with the rest of humanity. Though he -had been applauded and praised, all at once, for some mysterious reason -he could not understand but could only feel in its effect, he discovered -an eccentricity in the institution he revered. For a while it was -difficult to convict any one; verdict after verdict of not guilty was -rendered in the criminal court; there seemed to be a reaction against -punishment. - -When Amos Hunter died, Eades began to think again of Elizabeth Ward. He -assured himself that after this lapse of time, now that the danger was -removed, Elizabeth would respect him for his high-minded impartiality -and devotion to duty, and, indeed, understand what a sacrifice it had -been to him to decide as he had. And he resolved that at the first -opportunity he would speak to her again. He did not have to wait long -for the opportunity. A new musician had come to town, and, with his -interest in all artistic endeavors, Braxton Parrish had taken up this -frail youth who could play the violin, and had arranged a recital at his -home. - -Elizabeth went because Parrish had asked her especially and because her -mother had urged it on her, "out of respect to me," as Mrs. Ward put it. -When she got there, she told herself she was glad she had come because -she could now realize how foreign all this artificial life had become to -her; she was glad to have the opportunity to correct her reckoning, to -see how far she had progressed. She found, however, no profit in it, -though the boy, whose playing she liked, interested her. He stood in -the music-room under the mellow light, and his slender figure bending -gracefully to his violin, and his sensitive, fragile, poetic face, had -their various impressions for her; but she sat apart and after a while, -when the supper was served, she found a little nook on a low divan -behind some palms. But Eades discovered her in her retreat. - -"I have been wondering whether my fate was settled--after that last time -we met," he said, after the awkward moment in which they exchanged -banalities. - -The wonder was in his words alone; she could not detect the uncertainty -she felt would have become him. - -"Is it settled?" - -"Yes, it is settled." - -He was taken aback, but he was determined, always determined. He could -not suppose that, in the end, she would actually refuse him. - -"Of course," he began again, "I could realize that for a time you would -naturally feel resentful--though that isn't the word--but now--that the -necessity is passed--that I am in a sense free--I had let myself begin -to hope again." - -"You don't understand," she said, almost sick at heart. "You didn't -understand that day." - -"Why, I thought I did. You wanted me--to let him go." - -"Yes." - -"And because I loved you, to prove that I loved you--" - -"Exactly." - -"Well, then, didn't I understand you?" - -"No." - -"Well, I confess," he leaned back helplessly, "you baffle me." - -"Oh, but it wasn't a _bargain_," she said. Her gray eyes looked calmly -into his as she told him what she knew was not accurately the truth, and -she was glad of the moment because it gave her the opportunity to -declare false what had so long been true to her, and, just as she had -feared, true to him. She felt restored, rehabilitated in her old -self-esteem, and she relished his perplexity. - -"It seems inconsistent," he said. - -"Does it? How strange!" She said it coldly, and slowly she took her -eyes from him. They were silent for a while. - -"Then my fate is settled--irrevocably?" he asked at length. - -"Yes, irrevocably." - -"I wish," he complained, "that I understood." - -"I wish you did," she replied. - -"Can't you tell me?" - -"Don't force me to." - -"Very well," he said, drawing himself up. "I beg your pardon." These -words, however, meant that the apology should have been hers. - -As they drove home, her mother said to her: - -"What were you and John Eades talking about back there in that corner?" - -"An old subject." - -"Was he--" Mrs. Ward was burning with a curiosity she did not, however, -like to put into words. - -Elizabeth laughed. - -"Yes," she said, "he _was_. But I settled him." - -"I hope you were not--" - -"Brutal?" - -"Well, perhaps not that--you, of course, could not be that." - -"Don't be too sure." - -They discussed Eades as the carriage rolled along, but their points of -view could never be the same. - -"And yet, after all, dear," Mrs. Ward was saying, "we must be just. I -don't see--" - -"No," Elizabeth interrupted her mother. "You don't see. None of you -can see. It wasn't because he wouldn't let Dick go. It was because -that one act of his revealed his true nature, his real self; showed me -that he isn't a man, but a machine; not a human being, but a prosecutor; -he's an institution, and one can't marry an _institution_, you know," -she concluded oddly. - -"Elizabeth!" said Mrs. Ward. "That doesn't sound quite ladylike or -nice!" - -Elizabeth laughed lightly now, in the content that came with the new -happiness that was glowing within her. - - - - - XXXIII - - -Curly Jackson was hurrying along Race Street, glad of his old friend, -the darkness, that in February had begun to gather at five o'clock. He -passed a factory, a tall, ugly building of brick, and in the light of -the incandescent lamps he could see the faces of the machinists bent -over the glistening machines. Curly looked at these workmen, thought of -their toil, of the homes they would go to presently, of the wives that -would be waiting, and the children--suddenly a whistle blew, the roar of -machinery subsided, whirred, hummed and died away; a glad, spontaneous -shout went up from the factory, and, in another minute, a regiment of -men in overalls and caps, begrimed and greasy, burst into the street and -went trooping off in the twilight. The scene moved Curly profoundly; he -longed for some touch of this humanity, for the fellowship of these -working-men, for some one to slap his back, and, in mere animal spirits -and joy at release, sprint a race for half a block with him. - -Curly felt that these workmen were like him, at least, in one respect, -they were as glad to be released from the factory as he had been half an -hour before to be released from the jail. He had left the jail, but he -was not free. Inside the jail he had the sympathy and understanding of -his fellows; here he had nothing but hatred and suspicion. Even these -men trooping along beside him and, to his joy, brushing against him now -and then, would have scorned and avoided him had they known he was just -released from prison. There was no work for him among them, and his -only freedom lay still in the fields, the woods, and along the highways -of gravel and of iron. - -"Well," he thought, grinding his teeth bitterly, "they'll have to pay -toll now!" - -He found Gibbs in his back room, alone, and evidently in a gloomy mood. -Gibbs stretched his hand across the table. - -"Well, Curly, I'm glad to see some one in luck." - -"You're right, Dan, my luck's good. I'm no hoodoo. To be in the way I -was and have your pal topped, to make a clear lamas--that looks like -good luck to me." - -"Oh, well, they never had anything on you." - -"They didn't have anything on Dutch neither--but in the frame-up I -didn't know but they'd put a sinker on me, too. What made me sore was -having that Flanagan rap against me--why, great God! a job like -that--that some fink, some gay cat done after he'd got scared!" Jackson -could not find the words to express his disgust, his sense of injury, -the stain, as it were, on his professional reputation. - -"It was that they put Dutch away on." - -"Sure, I know that, Dan, and everybody knows that. It was just like a -mob of hoosiers after you with pitchforks; like that time old Dillon and -Mason and me gave 'em battle in the jungle in Illinois. Well, that's -the way these people was. They was howlin' around that court-house and -that pogey--God! to think of it! To think of a fellow's getting a lump -like that handed to him--all for croakin' a copper!" Curly shook his -head a moment in his inability to understand this situation, and he held -his hands out in appeal to Gibbs, and said in his high, shrill voice, -emphasizing certain words: - -"What in hell do you make of it, Dan?" - -"What's the use wasting time over that?" Gibbs asked. "That's all over, -ain't it? Then cut it out. Course,"--it seemed, however, that Gibbs had -some final comment of his own to make--"you might say the kid ought -to've had a medal for croaking a gendie. I wisht when he pushed his -barker he'd wiped out a few more bulls. He was a good shot." - -Gibbs said this with an air of closing the discussion, and of having -paid his tribute to Archie. - -"Well, Dan," Curly began, "you'll have to put me on the nut until I can -get to work. I haven't even got pad money. I gave my bit to Jane; she -says graft's on the fritz. She twisted a super, but it was an old -canister--has she been in to-day?" - -Gibbs shook his head gloomily. - -"She didn't expect 'em to turn me out to-day." Curly mused in a -moment's silence. "Ain't she the limit? One day she was goin' to bash -that sister of poor Dutch, the next she's doubled with her, holdin' her -up. She had me scared when she landed in; I was 'fraid she'd tip off -the lay somehow--course"--he hastened to do her justice--"I knew she -wouldn't throw me down, but the main bull-- What's wrong, Dan?" Curly, -seeing that Gibbs was not interested, stopped suddenly. - -"Oh, everything's wrong. Dean's been here--now he's pinched!" - -"No! What for?" - -"You'd never guess." - -"The big mitt?" - -"No, short change! He came in drunk--he's been at it for a month; of -course, if he hadn't, he wouldn't have done anything so foolish. Did -you know a moll buzzer named McGlynn? Well, he got home the other day -from doin' a stretch, and Ed gets sorry for him and promises to take him -out. So they go down to the spill and turned a sucker--Ed flopped him -for a ten!" Gibbs's tone expressed the greatest contempt. "He'll be -doing a heel or a stick-up next, or go shark hunting. Think of Ed -Dean's being in for a thing like that!" - -"Is he down at the boob?" - -"No, we sprung him on paper. He's all broke up--you heard about -McDougall?" - -"What about him?" - -"Dead; didn't you know? Died in Baltimore--some one shot him in a -saloon. He wouldn't tell who; he was game--died saying it was all -right, that the guy wasn't to blame. And then," Gibbs went on, "that -ain't all. Dempsey was settled." - -"Yes, I read it in the paper." - -"That was a kangaroo, too." - -"I judged so; they settled him for the dip. How did it come off?" - -"Oh, it was them farmers down at Bayport. Dempsey had a privilege at -the fair last fall; he took a hieronymous--hanky-panky, chuck-a-luck." - -"Yes, I know," said Curly impatiently, "the old army game." - -"Well, he skinned the shellapers, and they squealed this year to get -even. They had him pinched for the dip. Why, old Dempsey couldn't even -stall--he couldn't put his back up to go to the front!" - -"Who did it?" - -"Oh, a little Chicago gun. You don't know him." - -"Well," said Curly, "you have had a run of bad luck." - -"Do you know what does it?" Gibbs leaned over confidentially, a -superstitious gleam in his eye. "It's that Koerner thing. There's a -hoodoo over that family. That girl's been in here once or twice--with -Jane. You tell Jane not to tow her round here any more. If I was you, -I'd cut her loose--she'll queer you. You won't have any luck as long as -you're filled in with her." - -"I thought the old man had some damages coming to him for the loss of -his gimp," said Curly. - -"Well, he has; but it's in the courts. They'll job him, too, I suppose. -He can't win against that hoodoo. The courts have been taking their -time." - -The courts, indeed, had been taking their time with Koerner's case. -Months had gone by and still no hint of a decision. The truth was, the -judges of the Supreme Court were divided. They had discussed the case -many times and had had heated arguments over it, but they could not -agree as to what had been the proximate cause of Koerner's injury, -whether it was the unblocked frog in which he had caught his foot, or -the ice on which he had slipped. If it was the unblocked frog, then it -was the railroad company's fault; if it was the snow and ice, then it -was what is known as the act of God. Dixon, McGee and Bundy, justices, -all thought the unblocked frog was the proximate cause; they argued that -if the frog had been blocked, Koerner could not have caught his foot in -it. They were supported in their opinion by Sharlow, of the _nisi -prius_ court, and by Gardner, Dawson and Kirkpatrick, of the Appellate -Court; so that of all the judges who were to pass on Koerner's case, he -had seven on his side. On the other hand, Funk, Hambaugh and Ficklin -thought it was God's fault and not the railroad company's; they argued -it was the ice causing him to slip that made Koerner fall and catch his -foot. - -It resulted, therefore, that with all the elaborate machinery of the -law, one man, after all, was to decide this case, and that man was -Buckmaster, the chief justice. Buckmaster had the printed transcript of -the record and the printed briefs of counsel, but, like most of his -colleagues, he disliked to read records and merely skimmed the briefs. -Besides, Buckmaster could not fix his mind on anything just then, for, -like Archie, he, too, was under sentence of death. His doctor, some -time before this, had told him he had Bright's disease, and Buckmaster -had now reached the stage where he had almost convinced himself that his -doctor was wrong, and he felt that if he could take a trip south, he -would come back well again. Buckmaster would have preferred to lay the -blame of Koerner's accident on God rather than on the railroad company. -He had thought more about the railroads and the laws they had made than -he had about God and the laws He had made, for he had been a railroad -attorney before he became a judge; indeed, the railroad companies had -had his party nominate him for judge of the Supreme Court. Buckmaster -knew how much the railroads lost in damages every year, and how the -unscrupulous personal-injury lawyers mulcted them; and just now, when he -was needing this trip south, and the manager of the railroad had placed -his own private car at his disposal, Buckmaster felt more than ever -inclined toward the railroad's side of these cases. Therefore, after -getting some ideas from Hambaugh, he announced to his colleagues that he -had concluded, after careful consideration, that Funk and Hambaugh and -Ficklin were right; and Hambaugh was designated to write the profound -opinion in which the decision of the court below was reversed. - -Marriott had the news of the reversal in a telegram from the clerk of -the Supreme Court, and he sat a long time at his desk, gazing out over -the hideous roofs and chimneys with their plumes of white steam.... -Well, he must tell old Koerner. He never dreaded anything more in his -life, yet it must be done. But he could wait until morning. Bad news -would keep. - -But Marriott was spared the pain of bearing the news of this final -defeat to Koerner. It would seem that the law itself would forego none -of its privileges as to this family with which it so long had sported. -The news, in fact, was borne to Koerner by a deputy sheriff. - -Packard, the lawyer for the Building and Loan Company which held the -mortgage on Koerner's house, had been waiting, at Marriott's request, -for the determination of Koerner's suit against the railroad company. -That morning Packard had read of the reversal in the _Legal Bulletin_, a -journal that spun out daily through its short and formal columns, the -threads of misery and woe and sin that men tangle into that inextricable -snarl called "jurisprudence." And Packard immediately, that very -morning, began his suit in foreclosure, and before noon the papers were -served. - -When Marriott knocked at the little door in Bolt Street, where he had -stood so often and in so many varying moods of hope and despair,--though -all of these moods, as he was perhaps in his egoism glad to feel, had -owed their origin to the altruistic spirit,--he felt that surely he must -be standing there now for the last time. He glanced at the front of the -little home; it had been so neat when he first saw it; now it was -weather-beaten and worn; the front door was scratched, the paint had -cracked and come off in flakes. - -The door was opened by the old man himself, and he almost frightened -Marriott by the fierce expression of his haggard face. His shirt was -open, revealing his red and wrinkled throat; his white hair stood up -straight, his lean jaws were covered with a short, white beard, and his -thick white eyebrows beetled fearfully. When he saw Marriott his lips -trembled in anger, and his eyes flashed from their caverns. - -"So!" he cried, not opening wide the door, not inviting Marriott in, -"you gom', huh?" - -"Yes, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott, "I came--to--" - -"You lost, yah, I know dot! You lose all your cases, huh, pretty much, -aindt it so?" - -Marriott flamed hotly. - -"No, it isn't so," he retorted, stepping back a little. "I have been -unfortunate, I know, in your case, and in Archie's, but I did--" - -"Ho!" scoffed Koerner in his tremendous voice. "Vell! Maybe you like to -lose anudder case. _Hier_! I gif you von!" - -With a sudden and elaborate flourish of the arm he stretched over his -crutch, he delivered a document to Marriott, and Marriott saw that it -was the summons in the foreclosure suit. - -"I s'pose we lose dot case, too, aindt it?" - -"Yes," said Marriott thoughtfully and sadly, tapping his hand with the -paper, "we'll lose this. When did you get it?" - -"Dis morning. A deputy sheriff, he brought 'im--" - -"And he told you--" - -"'Bout de oder von? Yah, dot's so." - -They were silent a moment and Marriott, unconsciously, and with -something of the habit of the family solicitor, put the summons into his -pocket. - -"Vell, I bet dere be no delays in dis case, huh?" Koerner asked. - -Marriott wondered if it were possible to make this old man understand. - -"You see, Mr. Koerner," he began, "the law--" - -The old German reared before him in mighty rage, and he roared out from -his tremendous throat: - -"Oh, go to hell mit your Gott-tamned law!" - -And he slammed the door in Marriott's face. - - -Koerner was right; there were no delays now, no questions of proximate -cause, no more, indeed, than there had been in Archie's case. The law -worked unerringly, remorselessly and swiftly; the _Legal Bulletin_ -marked the steps day by day, judgment by default--decree--order of sale. -There came a day when the sheriff's deputies--there were two of them -now, knowing old man Koerner--went to the little cottage in Bolt Street. -Standing on the little stoop, one of them, holding a paper in his hand, -rapped on the door. There was no answer, and he rapped again. Still no -answer. He beat with his gloved knuckles; he kicked lightly with his -boot; still no answer. The deputies went about the house trying to peep -in at the windows. The blinds were down; they tried both doors, front -and back; they were locked. - -In a neighbor's yard a little girl looked on with the crude curiosity of -a child. After the man had tried the house all about, and rightly -imagining from all that was said of the Koerners in the neighborhood -that the law was about to indulge in some new and sensational ribaldry -with them, she called out in a shrill, important voice: - -"They're in there, Mister!" - -"Are you sure?" - -"Oh, honest!" said the officious little girl, drawing her chin in -affectedly. "Cross my heart, it's so." - -Then the deputy put his shoulder to the door; presently it gave. - -In the front room, on the plush lounge, lay the two children, Jakie and -Katie, their throats cut from ear to ear. In the dining-room, where -there had been a struggle, lay the body of Mrs. Koerner, her throat -likewise cut from ear to ear. And from four huge nails driven closely -together into the lintel of the kitchen door, hung the body of old man -Koerner, with its one long leg just off the floor, and from his long -yellow face hung the old man's tongue, as if it were his last impotent -effort to express his scorn of the law, whose emissaries he expected to -find him there. - - - - - XXXIV - - -The series of dark events that had so curiously interwrought themselves -into the life of Elizabeth Ward seemed, as far as the mind of mortals -could determine, to find its close in the tragedy which the despairing -Koerner contrived in his household. The effects of all these related -circumstances on those who, however remotely, were concerned in them, -could not, of course, be estimated; but the horror they produced in -Elizabeth made the end of that winter a season of depression that left a -permanent impress on her life and character. For weeks she was -bewildered and afraid, but as the days went by those events began to -assume in her retrospective vision their proper relations in a world -that speedily forgot them in its contemplation of other events exactly -like them, and she tried to pass them in review; the Koerners all were -dead, save Gusta, and she was worse than dead; Kouka and Hunter were -dead; Dick was still astray; Graves and all that horde of poor and -criminal, whose faces for an instant had been turned up in appeal to -her, had sunk into the black abyss again. What did it all mean? - -She sought an answer to the questions, but could find none. No one -could help her; few, indeed, could understand what it was she wished to -know. Her father thought the market quotations important; her mother -was absorbed in the way in which certain persons dressed, or served -their meals, or arranged their entertainments; as for the church, where -once she might have gone for help, it was not interested in her -question. - -The philosophers and the poets that had been her favorites had now for -her new meanings, it is true, but they had been writing of the poor and -the imprisoned for ages, and yet that very morning in that very city, -not far away, there were countless poor and criminal, and as fast as -these died or disappeared or were put to prison or to death, others -appeared to take their places; the courts ground on, the prisons were -promptly filled, the scenes she had witnessed in the slums and at the -prisons were daily reënacted with ever-increasing numbers to take the -places of those who went down in the process. And men continued to talk -learnedly and solemnly of law and justice. - -She thought of Marriott's efforts to save Archie; she thought of her own -efforts; the Organized Charities squabbling as to whether it would open -its meetings with prayer or not, whether it would hold an entertainment -in a theater or some other building; she remembered the tedious -statistics and the talk about the industrious and the idle, the frugal -and the wasteful, the worthy and the unworthy. When, she wondered, had -the young curate ever worked? who had declared him worthy? When, -indeed, had she herself ever worked? who had declared her worthy? - -But this was not all: there were other distinctions; besides the rich -and the poor, the worthy and the unworthy, there were the "good" and the -"bad." She indeed, herself, had once thought that mankind was thus -divided, one class being rich, worthy and good, and the other class -poor, unworthy and bad. But now, while she could distinguish between -the rich and poor, she could no longer draw a line between the good and -the bad, or the worthy and the unworthy, though it did not seem -difficult to some people,--Eades, for instance, who, with his little -stated formula of life, thought he could make the world good by locking -up all the bad people in one place. Surely, she thought, Eades could -not do this; he could lock up only the poor people. And a new question -troubled Elizabeth: was the one crime, then, in being poor? But -gradually these questions resolved themselves into one question that -included all the others. "What," she asked herself, "does life mean to -me? What attitude am I to adopt toward it? In a word, what am I, a -girl, having all my life been carefully sheltered from these things and -having led an idle existence, with none but purely artificial duties to -perform--what am I to do?" - -The first thing, she told herself, was to look at the world in a new -light: a light that would reveal, distinctly, all the poor, all the -criminal in the great, haggard, cruel city, not as beings of another -nature, of another kind or of another class, different from herself, and -from whom she must separate herself, but as human beings, no matter how -wretched or miserable, exactly like herself, bound to her by ties that -nothing could break. They might, indeed, be denied everything else, but -they could not be denied this kinship; they claimed it by right of a -common humanity and a common divinity. And, beginning to look on them -in this new light, she found she was looking on them in a new pity, a -new sympathy, yes, a new love. And suddenly she found the peace and the -happiness of a new life, like that which came with the great awakening -of the spring. - -For spring had come again. All that morning a warm rain had fallen and -the green sward eagerly soaked it up. The young leaves of the trees -were glistening wet, the raindrops clung in little rows, like strings of -jewels, to the slender, shining twigs; they danced on the swimming -pavement, and in the gutters there poured along a yellow stream with -great white bubbles floating gaily on its surface. The day was still; -now and then she could hear the hoof-beats of the horses that trotted -nervously over the slippery asphalt. It rained softly, patiently, as if -it had always rained, as if it always would rain; the day was gray, but -in the yard a robin chirped. - -Yes, thought Elizabeth, as she faced life in her new attitude, the -Koerners' tragedies are not the only ones. For all about her she saw -people who, though they moved and ate and talked and bustled to and fro, -were yet dead; the very souls within them were atrophied and dead; that -is, dead to all that is real and vital in existence. They who could so -complacently deny life to others were at the same time denying life to -themselves. The tragedy had not been Koerner's alone; it had been -Ford's as well; Eades could not punish Archie without punishing himself; -Modderwell, in excluding Gusta, must exclude himself; and Dick might -cause others to suffer, but he must suffer more. He paid the penalty -just as all those in her narrow little world paid the penalty and kept -on paying the penalty until they were bankrupts in soul and spirit. The -things they considered important and counted on to give them happiness, -gave them no happiness; they were the most unhappy of all, and far more -desperate because they did not realize why they were unhappy. The poor -were not more poor, more unhappy, more hungry, or more squalid. There -was no hunger so gnawing as that infinite hunger of the soul, no poverty -so squalid as the poverty of mere possession. And there were crimes -that printed statutes did not define, and laws that were not accidents, -but harmoniously acting and reacting in the moral world, revisited this -cruelty, this savagery, this brutality with increasing force upon those -who had inflicted it on others. And as she thought of all the evil -deeds of that host of mankind known as criminals, and of that other host -that punished them, she saw that both crime and punishment emanated from -the same ignorant spirit of cruelty and fear. Would they ever learn of -the great equity and tolerance, the simple love in nature? They had but -to look at the falling rain, or at the sun when it shone again, to read -the simple and sufficient lesson. No, she would not disown these -people, any of them. She must live among them, she must feast or -starve, laugh or cry, despair or triumph with them; she must bear their -burdens or lay her own upon them, and so be brought close to them in the -great bond of human sympathy and love, for only by love, she saw, shall -the world be redeemed. - - -Meanwhile, everything went on as before. The peculiar spiritual -experience through which Elizabeth was passing she kept largely to -herself: she could not discuss it with any one; somehow, she would have -found it impossible, because she realized that all those about her, -except perhaps Marriott, would consider it all ridiculous and look at -her in a queer, disconcerting way. She saw few persons outside of her -own family; people spoke of her as having settled down, and began to -forget her. But she saw much of Marriott; their old friendly relations, -resumed at the time the trouble of Gusta and Archie and Dick had brought -them together, had grown more intimate. Of Eades she saw nothing at -all, and perhaps because both she and Marriott were conscious of a -certain restraint with respect to him, his name was never mentioned -between them. But at last an event occurred that broke even this -restraint: it was announced that Eades was to be married. He was to -marry an eastern girl who had visited in the city the winter before and -now had come back again. She had been the object of much social -attention, partly because she was considered beautiful, but more, -perhaps, because she was in her own right very wealthy. She had, in -truth, a pretty, though vain and selfish little face; she dressed -exquisitely, and she had magnificent auburn, that is, red hair. People -were divided as to what color it really was, though all spoke of it as -"artistic." And now it was announced that she had been won by John -Eades; the wedding was to occur in the autumn. The news had interested -Marriott, of course, and he could not keep from imparting it to -Elizabeth; indeed, he could not avoid a certain tone of triumph when he -told her. He had seen Eades that very morning in the court-house; he -seemed to Marriott to have grown heavier, which may have been the effect -of a new coat he wore, or of the prosperousness and success that were -surely coming to him. He was one of those men whom the whole community -would admire; he would always do the thing appropriate to the occasion; -it would, somehow, be considered in bad form to criticize him. - -The newspapers had the habit of praising him; he was popular--precisely -that, for while he had few friends and no intimates, everybody in the -city approved him. He was just then being mentioned for Congress, and -even for the governorship. - -Yes, thought Marriott, Eades is a man plainly marked for success; -everything will come his way. Eades had stopped long enough--and just -long enough--to take Marriott's hand, to smile, to ask him the proper -questions, to tell him he was looking well, that he must drop in and see -him, and then he had hastened away. Marriott had felt a new quality in -Eades's manner, but he could not isolate or specify it. Was Eades -changing? He was changing physically, to be sure, he was growing -stouter, but he was at the age for that; the youthful lines were being -erased from his figure, just as the lines of maturity were being drawn -in his face. Marriott thought it over, a question in his mind. Was -success spoiling Eades? - -But when Marriott told Elizabeth the news, she did not appear to be -surprised; she did not even appear to be interested. The summer had -come early that year; within a week it had burst upon them suddenly. -The night was so warm that they had gone out on the veranda. Marriott -watched Elizabeth narrowly, there in the soft darkness, to note the -effect. But apparently there was no effect. She sat quite still and -said nothing. The noise of the city had died away into a harmony, and -the air throbbed with the shrill, tiny sounds of hidden infinitesimal -life. There came to them the fragrance of the lilacs, just blooming in -the big yard of the Wards, and the fragrance of the lilacs brought to -them memories. To Marriott, the fragrance brought memories of that -night at Hazel Ford's wedding; he thought of it a long time, wondering. -After a while they left the veranda and strolled into the yard under the -trees. - -"Do you know," said Marriott, "I thought you would be surprised to hear -of John Eades's engagement." - -"Why?" she asked. - -"Well, I don't know; no one had noticed that he was paying her any -attention--" Suddenly he became embarrassed. He was still thinking of -the evening at Hazel Ford's wedding, and he was wondering if Elizabeth -were thinking of it, too, and this confused him. - -"Oh," Elizabeth said, as if she had not noticed his hesitation, "I'm -very glad--it's an appropriate match." - -Then she was silent; she seemed to be thinking; and Marriott wondered -what significance there was in the remark she had just made; did it have -a tribute for Eades, or for the girl, or exactly the reverse? - -"I was thinking," she began, as if in answer to his thought, and then -suddenly she stopped and gave a little laugh. "Gordon," she went on, -"can't you see them? Can't you see just what a life they will live--how -correct, and proper, and successful--and empty, and hollow, and deadly -it will be--going on year after year, year after year? Can't you see -them with their conception of life, or rather, their lack of conception -of it?" She had begun her sentence with a laugh, but she ended it in -deep seriousness. And for some reason they stopped where they were; and -suddenly, they knew that, at last, the moment had come. Just why they -knew this they could not have told, either of them, but they knew that -the moment had come, the moment toward which they had been moving for a -long time. They felt it, that was all. And neither was surprised. -Words, indeed, were unnecessary. They had been talking, for the first -time in months, of Eades, yet neither was thinking at all of the life -Eades and his fashionable wife would lead, nor caring in the least about -it. Marriott knew that in another instant he would tell Elizabeth what -long had been in his heart, what he should have told her months ago, -what he had come there that very night to tell her; he knew that -everything he had said that night had been intended, in some way, to -lead up to it; he was certain of it, and he thought quite calmly, and -yet when he spoke and heard his own voice, its tone, though low, showed -his excitement; and he heard himself saying: - -"I am thinking--do you know of what? Well, of that night--" - -And then, suddenly, he took her hands and poured out the unnecessary -words. - -"Elizabeth, do you know--I've always felt--well, that little incident -that night at Hazel Ford's wedding; do you remember? I was so stupid, -so bungling, so inept. I thought that Eades--that there was--something; -I thought so for a long time. I wish I could explain--it was only -because--I loved you!" - -He could see her eyes glow in the darkness; he heard her catch her -breath, and then he took her in his arms. - -"Oh, Elizabeth, dearest, how I loved you! I had loved you for a long, -long time, but that night for the first time I fully realized, and I -thought then, in that moment, that I was too late, that there never had -been--" - -He drew her close to him, and bent his head and kissed her lips, her -eyes, her hair. - -"Oh, Gordon!" she whispered, lifting her face from his shoulder. "How -very blind you were that night!" - - -Long after Marriott had gone, Elizabeth sat by her window and looked out -into the night; above the trees the stars glowed in a purple sky. She -was too happy for sleep, too happy for words. She sat there and dreamed -of this love that had come to her, and tears filled her eyes. Because -of this love, this love of Gordon Marriott, this love of all things, she -need ask no more questions for a while. Love, that was the great law of -life, would one day, in the end, explain and make all things clear. Not -to her, necessarily, but to some one, to humanity, when, perhaps, -through long ages of joy and sorrow, of conflict and sin, and in hope -and faith, it had purified and perfected itself. And now by this love -and by the new light within her, at last she was to live, to enter into -life--life like that which had awakened in the world this brooding -tropical night, with its soft glowing stars, its moist air, laden with -the odor of lilacs and of the first blossoms of the fruit trees, and -with the smell of the warm, rich, fecund earth. - - - - - THE END - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURN OF THE BALANCE *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40398 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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