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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>THE TURN OF THE BALANCE</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Turn of the Balance" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Brand Whitlock" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1907" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Jay Hambidge" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="40398" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-02-19" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Turn of the Balance" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Turn of the Balance" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="balance.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-02-19T22:47:40.558022+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40398" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Brand Whitlock" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Jay Hambidge" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2013-02-19" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-turn-of-the-balance"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE TURN OF THE BALANCE</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Turn of the Balance -<br /> -<br />Author: Brand Whitlock -<br /> -<br />Release Date: February 19, 2013 [EBook #40398] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE TURN OF THE BALANCE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 57%" id="figure-73"> -<span id="cover"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 70%" id="figure-74"> -<span id="gordon-marriott"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Gordon Marriott *Page 38*" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Gordon Marriott Page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">38</a></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">THE TURN OF THE BALANCE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">By</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">BRAND WHITLOCK</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Author of The Happy Average -<br />Her Infinite Variety -<br />The 13th District</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">With Illustrations by -<br />JAY HAMBIDGE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">INDIANAPOLIS -<br />THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY -<br />PUBLISHERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT 1907 -<br />THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">MARCH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO THE MEMORY OF -<br />SAMUEL M. JONES -<br />Died July 12, 1904</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="medium">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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">From</em><span> "A BOY'S TOWN"</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">By</em><span> WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i"><span id="book-i"></span><span class="x-large">THE TURN OF THE BALANCE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">BOOK I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">THE TURN OF THE BALANCE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hurry, Gusta!" said Elizabeth. "This is splendid! -I must go right out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The maid who was laying the breakfast smiled; "It -was a regular blizzard, Miss Elizabeth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, Miss Elizabeth, an hour ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said not to disturb you, Miss Elizabeth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta had served the breakfast, and now, surveying -her work with an expression of pleasure, poured the -coffee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth did not reply, and Gusta went on: "I -stayed home last night--my brother just got back -yesterday; I stayed to see him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your brother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; Archie. He's been in the army. He got home -yesterday from the Phil'pines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How interesting!" said Elizabeth indifferently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does he look as fine as you, Gusta?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth smiled affectionately, and Gusta's fair -German skin flushed to her yellow hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed!" said Elizabeth, her already slight -interest flagging. "Then he must be a fine shot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the maid came into the adjoining room a few -moments later, Elizabeth said: "Gusta, please hand me -that box of candy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be put long, dear; remember the dinner," -Mrs. Ward called after her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ii"><span class="large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are refreshing!" she said. "The frost clings to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ward took Elizabeth's face between his palms as he -said jubilantly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but I've been making old Macey battle for his -life--and I've won."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "The snow came just in -the nick of time for me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but Dick," said Miss Bonnell, her dark face -lighting with a fine smile, "the poet wouldn't have -thought of business!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I suppose not," admitted Dick with the -contempt a business man should feel for a poet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we have no poet to do it," said Elizabeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you Canadians--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What on earth's the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Matter!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward. "Gusta's going, -that's all." She said it with the feeling such a calamity -merited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the scream--what was it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, word came about her father; he's been hurt, -or killed, or something, in the railroad yards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how dreadful!" the women politely chorused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I should think so," said Mrs. Ward. "To be -left like this without a moment's warning! And then -that awful </span><em class="italics">contretemps</em><span> at dinner!" Mrs. Ward looked -all the anguish and shame she felt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Gusta couldn't help that," said Elizabeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the ladies took up the servant-girl -problem, and canvassed it hopelessly until the men were -heard entering the library.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="iii"><span class="large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's father?" Gusta demanded, starting toward -her mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Koerner's lips opened and she drew a long -breath, then exhaled it in a heavy sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, quit, ma!" cried Gusta; "quit, now, can't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, ma," she said softly, "where is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Koerner rocked again, back and forth, flinging -up her arms and shaking her head from side to side. -A fear seized Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is he?" she demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He goes on der hospital," said one of the women. -"He's bad hurt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Want our supper!" Jakie cried; "want our supper!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta," said Katie, "did the pretty lady send me -something good?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Archie?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they've cut the old man's leg off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta and the neighbor women looked at Archie in -silence. Mrs. Koerner seemed unable to grasp the full -meaning of what he had said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Was sagst du?</em><span>" she asked, leaning forward anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sie haben sein Bein amputiert</em><span>," replied Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sein Bein--was?</em><span>" inquired Mrs. Koerner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the devil's 'cut off'?" asked Archie, turning -to Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," she said, "let's see. </span><em class="italics">Abgeschnitten</em><span>, I guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Je's," said Archie impatiently, "I wish she'd cut -out the Dutch!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sie haben sein Bein abgeschnitten--die Doctoren -im Hospital.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the door, you! Gusta, get some water!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand back!" shouted Archie peremptorily. "Give -her some air, can't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you feel better?" she asked solicitously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ja</em><span>," said Mrs. Koerner, but she began to shake her -head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old woman was unconvinced and shook her -head. Then Archie stepped close to her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="iv"><span class="large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Gustie," he called. "How are you this -morning? How's your father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Nussbaum replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reinhold Koerner's girl, what got hurt on the railroad -the other day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's a good-looker, hain't she?" said the driver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Gusta colored and felt proud and happier than -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Want to see Mrs. Ward?" the maid inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and Miss Elizabeth, too," said Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Ward's out and Miss Ward's busy just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mollie, whose broad back was bent over her table, -knew how the words hurt Gusta, and, without turning, -she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You go tell her Gusta's here, Nora; she'll want to -see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, sure," said Nora, yielding to a superior. "I'll -tell her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost before Nora could return, Elizabeth stood -in the swinging door, beaming her surprise and -pleasure. And Gusta burst into tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why Gusta," exclaimed Elizabeth, "come right in here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't cry, Gusta," said Elizabeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't cry," Elizabeth repeated. "You aren't -half so pretty when you cry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor child!" she said presently. "What a time -you've had!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss Elizabeth!" said Gusta, the tears starting -afresh at this expression of sympathy, "we've had a -dreadful time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we've missed you awfully," said Elizabeth. -"When are you coming back to us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta looked up gratefully. "I don't know, Miss -Elizabeth; I wish I did. But you see my mother is sick -ever since father--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how is your father? We saw in the newspaper -how badly he had been hurt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it in the paper?" said Gusta eagerly, leaning -forward a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't see it," said Gusta. "He was hurt dreadfully, -Miss Elizabeth; they cut his leg off at the hospital."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Gusta! And he's there still, of course?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and we don't know how long he'll have to -stay. Maybe he'll have to go under another operation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I hope not!" said Elizabeth. "Tell me how he -was hurt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, horrible!" Elizabeth's brows contracted in pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that was the best place for him, Gusta; the -very best place in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the railroad will pay for that, won't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you think it will, Miss Elizabeth? It had -ought to, hadn't it? He's worked there thirty-seven -years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Miss Ward!" they cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning," said Elizabeth, "we've come to see -Mr. Koerner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, pa, how're you feeling to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, Gustie," said the old man, "you gom' again, -huh? Vell, der oldt man's pretty bad, I tel' you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, the nurse said you were better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't the pain any better?" asked the nurse, still -smilingly, coaxingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naw," growled the old German, stubbornly refusing -to smile. "I toldt you it was no besser, don't I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, pa?" asked Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Der rheumatiz'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In my leg. In der same oldt blace. Ach!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An expression of puzzled pain came to Gusta's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, pa," said Gusta, "Miss Elizabeth's here to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Mr. Koerner?" she said in her soft -voice--so different from the voices of the nurse and -Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner turned and looked at her an instant, his -mouth open, his tongue playing over his discolored -teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo," he said, "you gom' to see der oldt man, huh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I came to see how you were, and to know if -there is anything I could do for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ach</em><span>," 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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there anything you want, Mr. Koerner? I'd be -so glad to get you anything, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we'll get you another pipe, Mr. Koerner," said -Elizabeth, laughing. "Isn't there anything else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked at her an instant, and then a soft -shadowy smile touched his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must let me send a lawyer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, der been blenty of lawyers," said Koerner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," laughed Elizabeth, "there are plenty of -lawyers, to be sure, but I mean--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Der been more as a dozen here alreadty," he went -on, "but dey don't let 'em see me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think a lawyer who would come to see you -would be the kind you want, Mr. Koerner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dot's all right. Der been blenty of time for der -lawyers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, pa," Gusta put in, "you must take Miss Elizabeth's -advice. She knows best. She'll send you a good -lawyer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, ve see about dot," said Koerner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, ve see," said Koerner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Gusta!" she said, "this air is delicious after that -air in there! I shall have the taste of it for days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Elizabeth, that place is sickening!"--and -Elizabeth laughed at the solemn deliberation with -which Gusta lengthened out the word.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 45%" id="figure-75"> -<span id="elizabeth"></span><span id="id1"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Elizabeth" src="images/img-038.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Elizabeth</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="v"><span class="large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Come in, old man." Marriott glanced up at Dick -Ward, who stood smiling in the doorway of his private -office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let me interrupt you, my boy," said Dick as -he entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And these answering defendants further say that -heretofore, to wit, on or about--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what's the news?" asked Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Devilish fine-looking girl you've got there, old -man!" said Dick, whose eyes had followed the -stenographer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's a good girl," said Marriott simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Bess was trying to get you by 'phone this -morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that so?" said Marriott in a disappointed tone. -"I was in court all morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's 'way out on Bolt Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What car do I take?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colorado Avenue, I think. I'll go 'long, if you want me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be delighted," said Marriott. He thought a -moment longer, then closed his desk, and said, "We'll go -now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they got off the elevator twelve floors below, -Dick said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got to have a drink before I start. Will you -join me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just had luncheon a while ago," said Marriott; -"I don't really--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want a high-ball; you know my brand, George. -What's yours, Gordon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll take the same." Marriott watched Dick -pour a generous libation over the ice in the glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't forget you, Mr. Ward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Marriott, Mr. Koerner, and this is -Mr. Ward, Miss Elizabeth's brother. She said you -wished to see me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You gom', huh?" said Koerner, fixing Marriott with -his little blue eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bin a lawyer, yet, huh?" asked Koerner severely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I'm a lawyer. Miss Ward said you wished to -see a lawyer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you retained any of them?" asked Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh?" asked Koerner, scowling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you hire any of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I tell 'em all to go to hell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's where most of them are going," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Koerner did not see the joke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's your injury?" asked Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner winced perceptibly at Marriott's mere -glance at his amputated leg, and stretched the -pipe-stem over it as if in protection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's hurt like hell," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, hasn't the pain left yet?" asked Marriott in -surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I got der rheumatiz' in dot foot," he pointed -with his pipe-stem at the vacancy where the foot used -to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">That</em><span> foot!" exclaimed Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bess told us of that," Dick put in. "It gave her -the willies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I should think so," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner looked from one to the other of the two -young men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's funny, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott, "that -foot's cut off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott presently, -"tell me how it happened and I'll see if I can help -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you been Mr. Marriott, huh?" asked Koerner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I'm Marriott."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Der lawyer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the lawyer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You der one vot Miss Ward sent alreadty, aind't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked at Dick, and then turned to -Marriott again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much you goin' charge me, huh?" His little -hard blue eyes were almost closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, if I don't get any damages for you, I won't -charge you anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Marriott, "how would one-fifth do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did the engine whistle or ring its bell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the frog--that was unblocked?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner leaned toward Marriott with a cunning smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the frog must be blocked. But how did your -foot get caught in the frog?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, I shlipped, dot's it. I gan't see dot frog. You -ask Charlie Drake; he's dere--he seen it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does he do?" asked Marriott as he scribbled -the name on an old envelope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mr. Dick!" she said, and then she looked at -Marriott, whom she had seen and served so often at -the Wards'.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Gusta," he said, "how are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've come to talk over pa's case, haven't you, -Mr. Marriott?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad of that," the girl said. "He has a good -case, hasn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were in the street Marriott said to Dick:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know about that poor old fellow's case--I'm -afraid--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gad!" said Dick. "Isn't Gusta a corker! I never -saw a prettier girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you never noticed it before?" said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vi"><span class="large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may open court, Mr. Bailiff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, this honorable court -is now in session."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bailiff sat down as in relief, but immediately -got up again when the judge said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring me the criminal docket, Mr. Bailiff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The State </span><em class="italics">versus</em><span> Patrick Delaney."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>McWhorter was studying the docket. Presently he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand up, Delaney."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delaney," he said, "have you anything to say why -the sentence of this court should not be passed upon you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Delaney looked uneasily at the judge and then let his -eyes fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Judge, yer Honor," he said, "nothing but that -I'm an innocent man. I didn't do it, yer Honor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May it please the Court, when the case of the State -</span><em class="italics">versus</em><span> Henry C. Graves is reached, I should like to be -heard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said Eades, glancing at the group of -young attorneys. "Mr. Metcalf, I believe, represents -the defendant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young lawyer thus indicated emerged from the -group that seemed to keep so closely together, and -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, your Honor, we'd like to be heard also."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Graves may stand up," said the judge, removing -his glasses and tilting back in his chair as if to listen -to long arguments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades looked at Metcalf, who stepped forward and -began:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Proceed," said McWhorter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Metcalf, looking at his feet, took two or three steps -forward, and then, lifting his head, suddenly began:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has the State anything to say?" asked the judge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Ward, do you care to be heard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Graves, have you anything to say why the sentence -of this court should not be passed on you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The youth raised his head, looked into McWhorter's -eyes, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>McWhorter turned suddenly and looked away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again McWhorter nodded decisively, and then, -feeling that much was due to a man of Ward's position, -went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy sat down, held out his wrists for the handcuffs, -the steel clicked, the pen scratched in the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vii"><span class="large">VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter this evening?" asked Elizabeth. "Nerves?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been on the wrong side to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, decidedly, I fear," said Ward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You remember Harry Graves?" asked her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that young man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that young man. Well, I've sent him to the -penitentiary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just said I'd sent Harry Graves to the penitentiary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For how long?" asked Mrs. Ward, with a judicial -desire for all the facts, usually unnecessary in her -judgments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For one year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, how easily he got off!" said Mrs. Ward. -"And do hurry now, Stephen. You're late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Ward shook his head, unconvinced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doubtless it will be a good thing for the young -man," said Mrs. Ward. "He has only himself to blame, -anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But once more Ward gave that unconvinced shake -of the head, and sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've succeeded in making myself feel like a dog," -Ward replied.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="viii"><span class="large">VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For God's sake, Hal, hurry up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Jim, in a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember us to the main screw!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think of us when you get to the big house!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the voices called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"We're going home! We're going home!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No more to sin and sorrow."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut up! Shut up!" and he poured out a volume of -obscene oaths. From inside came yells, derisive in the -safety of anonymity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Line up here," said Danner angrily, "we haven't -got all night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a swell lid you've got on there, Gunny, my -boy. I'm proud to fill in with your mob."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gunning tried to smile, and his face, already white -with the prison pallor, seemed to be made more ghastly -by the mockery of mirth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, old pard, we're fixed for the next five-spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the Deacon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How was it pulled off for you?" asked the Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he?" said the Deacon, interested. "He didn't -to me; he just slung it at me in a lump."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Snaggles plant the slum?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naw," said the Deacon, "the poke was cold and the -thimble was a phoney."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Je's," exclaimed the Kid. "I never got wise! Well, -then there was no chance for him to spring us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's tough to fall for a dead one," mused the Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They gave me a young mouthpiece," the Kid was -beginning, when Danner raised his head and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you fellows cut that out, do you hear? I want -to get my work done and start."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon, papa," said the Kid; "we're -anxious to start, too. Did you engage a lower berth -for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Danner paid no attention, but he was rapidly growing angry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll soak you with a sap if you don't cheese it," -said the Deacon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I could catch you all right," said Danner, -stopping and looking up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, my dear boy," said the Kid, "you couldn't -track an elephant through the snow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Utter unlocked the outer doors, and the line of men -filed out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by, Bud," the Kid called to Utter. "If you -ever get down to the dump, look me up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on, Danner!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He halted suddenly, and so jerked the whole line to -an abrupt standstill. "I've left my mackintosh in my -room!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you don't shut up, I'll smash your jaw!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Kid's laugh rang out in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that'd be just about your size!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You damn bitch!" he said. "I'll show you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right, Danner," said the Kid. "You've got -some one your size now! Soak her again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Danner, you coward, I'll serve you out for that, if -I get the chair for it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All aboard for the stir!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ix"><span class="large">IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The brougham of the Wards succeeded presently in -crossing Franklin Street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They were taking them to the penitentiary!" said -Elizabeth, speaking for the first time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume they were," said her mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry Graves was among them," Elizabeth went -on, staring widely before her, her tone low and level.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Ward turned her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw his face--it stood out among the rest. I can -never forget it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat with her gloved hands in her lap. Her -mother did not speak, but she looked at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that man--that big, brutal man, throwing that -woman down, and then striking that man in the face!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Ward, not liking to encourage her daughter's -mood, did not speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it makes me sick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But think of that poor boy, and the man who was -struck, and that woman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably they can not feel as keenly as--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And think of all those men! Oh, their faces! Their -faces! I can never forget them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="x"><span class="large">X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your sister?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is very well, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled suggestively, and Eades inclined his head -to acknowledge her tribute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we are to be congratulated on having you -in that position. I think it is very encouraging to find -some of our </span><em class="italics">best</em><span> people in public office."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a tribute surely in the emphasis she placed -on the adjective, and Eades inclined his head again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid Miss Ward will hardly agree with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Masters turned to Elizabeth with an expression -of incredulity and surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am sure--" she began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe she considers me harsh and cruel," Eades -went on, smiling, but looking intently at Elizabeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mr. Eades is mistaken," she said; "I'm sure I -agree with all the nice things that are said of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, dear me! The penitentiary is the place for -such people, isn't it, Mr. Eades?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been hard at work to-day, Elizabeth," he said, -turning to her with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Working! You must remember the Sabbath day -to keep it--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been out to see our old friends, the Koerners," -Marriott went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, tell me about them!" said Elizabeth, leaning -forward with eager interest. "How is Gusta?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta's well, and prettier than ever. Jove! What a -beauty that girl is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Marriott, "Koerner's amputated leg is -all knotted up with rheumatism."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Masters's dark face was pinched in a scowl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Archie's in jail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In jail!" Elizabeth dropped back in her chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, in jail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why! What for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he seems to belong to a gang that was -arrested day before yesterday for something or other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, Mr. Eades," said Elizabeth suddenly, "there -now, you must let Archie Koerner go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you'll defend him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That Miss Masters is a fool," said Marriott, when -they had got away from the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she is," Eades assented. "She was boring Miss -Ward to death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Elizabeth!" said Marriott with a little laugh. -"She is so patient, and people do afflict her so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see the </span><em class="italics">Courier</em><span> gave you a fine send-off this -morning," Marriott went on. "What a record you made! -Not a single acquittal the whole term!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades made no reply. He was wondering if Elizabeth -had seen the </span><em class="italics">Courier's</em><span> editorial. In the morning -he thought he would send her a bunch of violets, and -Tuesday--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the right course," he said significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I suppose so," Marriott replied. "Still--I really -can't congratulate you when I think of those poor -devils--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That young fellow's going an awful gait," he said -suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who, Dick?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I saw him in the club yesterday--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," said Marriott. "It's a shame. He's a nice -little chap."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you do something for him? He seems to like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, can't you--speak to him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never could preach," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Eades helplessly, "it's too bad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Marriott; "it would break their -hearts--Ward's and Elizabeth's."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xi"><span class="large">XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to speak to my brother, if I can," said -Gusta. "He's arrested."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She colored and her eyes fell. The policeman's eyes -gleamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's his name, Miss?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Archie Koerner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's he in fer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't tell you, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The policeman looked at her boldly, and then he -took her round arm in his big hand and turned her -toward the open door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Inspector," he said, "this girl wants to see her -brother. What's his name?" he asked again, turning to -Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Koerner, sir," said Gusta, speaking to the scowling -inspector, "Archie Koerner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Archie Koerner, eh?" said the inspector in a gruff voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that about Koerner?" he said, coming -forward aggressively. Gusta shrank from him. She felt -herself in the midst of powerful, angry foes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say he's your brother?" asked the inspector.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want of him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I just want to see him, sir," Gusta said. "I -just want to talk to him a minute--that's all, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her blue eyes were swimming with tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let this girl see Koerner," he said, speaking into -the tube, "in Kouka's presence." Then, dropping the -tube, he said to Gusta:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go down-stairs--you can see him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Koerner!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned to Gusta and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Gusta," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Gusta," Archie said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Archie," she said, "what has happened?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Search me," he said, "I don't know what I'm here -for. Ask Detective Kouka there. He run me in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they were silent, for Gusta could not speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you hear of the pinch?" asked Archie -presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Schopfle was in--she told us," replied Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did the old man say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Archie! He's awful mad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Gusta," he said, "you tell him I'm in wrong; -will you? Honest to God, I am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his face suddenly and held it close to the -bars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, Archie," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how's ma?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she's pretty well." Gusta could not say the -things she wished; she felt the presence of Kouka.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll find it," said Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's in the Wayne Building."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Archie," she said, "it must be awful in there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie became suddenly enraged</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, Archie," she said. "Ill go right away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was eager now to leave, for she had already -turned sick with loathing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And say, Gusta," Archie said, "get me some -cigarettes and send 'em down by Marriott."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," she said. She was backing away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by," he called. The turnkey was locking the -door on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xii"><span class="large">XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came to see about Archie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Marriott, do you think he is guilty?" Gusta was -asking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Guilty?" said Marriott, automatically repeating the -word. "Guilty? What difference does that make?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mr. Marriott!" the girl exclaimed, her blue -eyes widening. "Surely, it makes all the difference in -the world!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why--yes--shouldn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"N--no," Gusta hesitated as she assented to the -heresy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl was sitting with her yellow head bent; she -was trying to think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But father would say--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know much about it, Mr. Marriott," Gusta -said presently, "but when will you go to see him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll try to get down this afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he wants cigarettes? Well, I'll take them to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Gusta!" she said. "Is that you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how are you getting along?" she said. "How -are they all at home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta told her of her father and of her mother and of -the children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how's Archie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then instantly she remembered that Archie was -in prison. Her heart smote her for her thoughtlessness. -Gusta's head was hanging.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've just been to see him," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta made no reply, and Elizabeth saw that her -tears were falling.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-76"> -<span id="elizabeth-saw-that-her-tears-were-falling"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Elizabeth saw that her tears were falling" src="images/img-106.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Elizabeth saw that her tears were falling</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Gusta," she said sympathetically, "you -mustn't feel bad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl suddenly looked at her, her eyes full of -tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then Gusta told her the whole story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elizabeth, what in the world ails you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh; nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know something does," insisted Mrs. Ward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth, with her head inclined, was outlining with -the prong of a fork the pattern on the salad bowl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta has been here, telling me her troubles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Mrs. Ward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know her brother has been arrested."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stealing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it's too bad," said Elizabeth. "The young man--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the young man! If he'd go to work and earn -an honest living, he wouldn't be arrested for stealing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Elizabeth!" Mrs. Ward cried. "How can you -say such a thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth smiled, and the smile irritated her mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure it's entirely different!" Mrs. Ward went -on. "Dick does not belong to that class at all!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xiii"><span class="large">XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She remembered how he had sat there, puffing at his -cigar as if that could assist him to some conclusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ward smoked a moment in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And again the silence and the smoking and the pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's out to-night--where, I don't know. I don't -want to know--I'm afraid to know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, papa," she had replied protestingly, "you -mustn't blame yourself--you've done everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This had touched her to the quick, and she had wept -softly, stroking her father's cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you--couldn't you--" he began. "Do you -think you could talk to him, Bess?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at him!" Elizabeth said, pointing to her father. -"Look at him! Do you know what you're doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Bess"--Dick began, surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're breaking his heart, that's what you're doing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her lip curled in sarcasm. Dick stood by the -newel-post, his face white, his lips open as if to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Bess," Dick began, "what's the--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here," he said, speaking in a heavy voice, "I -don't want any more of this from you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For an instant there was something menacing in his -manner, and then he walked away and left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xiv"><span class="large">XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you taking a walk?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a fine day," he said. "There's lots o' people -out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Gusta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where 'bouts do you live?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On Bolt Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I live out that way myself!" said the young -man. "It's quite a ways from here. Been out to see -some friends?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes." Gusta hesitated. "I had an errand to do out -this way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thanks," she said, "I must be going home now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you going to walk or take the car?" asked the -young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll walk, I guess," she said; and then, lest he think -she had no car fare, she added: "the cars are so -crowded."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' I kept right on toowards him, an' him shootin' -at me breasht four toimes--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh-ho, me foine bucko!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Koerner saw Gusta, and, forgetting for a moment, -tried to rise to his feet, then dropped back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's dot feller mit you, huh? Who's dot now?" -he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta's heart and Peltzer's heart warmed to -Crowley, but old Koerner said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In mit you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she slipped hurriedly indoors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But nothing could harm her now, for the world had -changed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xv"><span class="large">XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xvi"><span class="large">XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Joe!" he cried as he seized Mason's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mason smiled faintly, but Archie's joy made him happy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Je's," said Archie, "I'm glad to see you--it makes -me feel better. When 'd you get out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This morning," Mason replied. "Which way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, anywhere," said Archie. "Where you goin'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Up to Gibbs's. Want to go 'long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Joe," she said, "is that you? When did you -get out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This morning," he said. "Where's Dan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's back here; come in," and she turned and led -the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">modus vivendi</em><span>, 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Joe," said Gibbs, glancing at Mason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A friend of mine; met him in the boob." And then -he said: "Mr. Gibbs, let me introduce Mr. Koerner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jackson laughed without mirth and flecked the ash -from his cigarette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Joe, I come through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I wanted a show-down, d'ye see?" said -Jackson. "I knew they couldn't hold me on the square."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't they know anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Curly," he said, "you had the right nerve."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nerve!" said Mandell. "I guess so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nerve!" repeated Keenan. "He had enough for a whole mob!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ach!" said Jackson, twisting away from them on -his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd 'a' let him have it when he first bashed me," said -Keenan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, Curly," said Gibbs, and Jackson sank into -his chair. A minute later Jackson turned to Mason and -said quietly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xvii"><span class="large">XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He doesn't want to talk about it," said Mason when -Jackson had disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Gibbs. "Let him alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Dan," the man in the doorway said, "come here -a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs went into the bar-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's that?" asked Mandell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a swell, all right," said Keenan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three, Mandell, Keenan and Jackson, looked at -Mason as if he could tell. But Archie suddenly remembered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He looks like an army officer," he said, speaking -his thought aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said with spirit, "I know something--I -was in the regular army three years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What regiment?" Jackson fixed Archie with his -blue eyes, and there seemed to be just a trace of -concern in their keen, searching glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The twelfth cavalry," said Archie. "I served in the -Philippines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Jackson, as if relieved, and he released -Archie from his look. Archie felt relieved, too, and -went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He looks just like a colonel in the English army I -saw at Malta. Our transport stopped there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's Lon McDougall," said Mason when Archie had -finished. "He's a big-mitt man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The others turned away with an effect of lost interest -and something like a sneer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose there's a lot o' those guns out there," said -Keenan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mob come in this afternoon," said Mason; -"they're working eastward out of Chicago with the rag."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, let's make a get-away," said Keenan, unable -to conceal a yegg man's natural contempt of the guns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Curly," he said, "you gave that geezer all -that was coming to him! You--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheese it, Jimmy," said Jackson. "I don't want to -hear any more about that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xviii"><span class="large">XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My! but you're burned!" she exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I?" said Marriott, pleased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't deserve to be burned as a mower--your -work isn't as hard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not wish then to talk seriously; she was -trying to forget problems, and she and Marriott were -always discussing problems.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gordon," said Elizabeth, "I'm going away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where to?" he asked, looking up suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Europe," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Europe! Why, when? You must have decided hurriedly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the other night after I came home from -Mr. Parrish's--we decided rather quickly--or papa decided -for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well!" Marriott exclaimed again. "That's fine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked away toward the first tee, where his -caddie was waiting for him. He beckoned, and the boy -came with his bag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell Mr. Phillips I'll not play any more--I'll see -him later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott placed his hands on the rail, sprang over it, -and drew up a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, this is sudden," he said, "but it's fine for -you." He took out a cigarette. "How did it happen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you want the real reason?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course; I've a passion for the real."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going in order to get away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott was sheltering in his palms a match for his -cigarette. He looked up suddenly, the cigarette still -between his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Away from what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, from--everything!" She waved her hands -despairingly. Marriott did not understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's going with you?" asked Marriott. He had -thought of other things to say, but decided against -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mama."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he can't go. He and Dick will stay at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you won't shut up the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think Dick would want to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you'll not go to Mackinac?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, we'll close the cottage this summer. Papa -doesn't want to go there without us, and--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Dick will miss his yacht."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the yacht has been wholly superseded in his -affections by the auto."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Marriott, "I'll not go north myself then. -I had thought of going up and hanging around, but -now--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked to see if he were in earnest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you'll have a great time," Marriott interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaned back and Marriott eyed her narrowly; -he saw that her look was weary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you need a rest. It was such a long, hard winter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gordon," she said presently, "I want you to do -something for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His heart leaped a little at her words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything you say," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he doesn't need any watching," he said, by way -of reassuring her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, certainly," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott was moved by her confidence; he felt a -great affection for her in that instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes there is," she insisted. "And there is much -you could give him. Perhaps it would bore you--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He protested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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 </span><em class="italics">feel</em><span> 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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted her hand in a little gesture of despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I do," said Marriott. His brows were -contracted and he was trying to grasp her meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is generally considered a great blessing to have a -rich father," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned and looked at him with' a little arch of -triumph in her brows, at having attained this -expression of her thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We all have a conception of life that is more or less -confused," Marriott generalized. "That is, when we -have any conception at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was silent for a while. Marriott had not known -before how deep her thought had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know what I've a notion of doing?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've a notion to go and work in a factory, say half -a day, and give some poor girl a half-holiday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you'd take her wages from her," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'd give her the wages."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott shook his head slowly, doubtingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled at the absurdity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was surprised to see such penetration in her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sometimes I feel that I'd like to leave the town and -never see anybody in it again!" Elizabeth exclaimed. -"Don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes--but--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But is there any place where we could escape it all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the summer's here and we can have our -vacations. Of course," he added whimsically, "the -Koerners will have no vacation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gordon, don't you ever dare to mention the Koerners again!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xix"><span class="large">XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, "it'll be lonesome now, with -everybody out of town."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope to get away myself next week," said Eades, -"The town will soon be empty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly whistles blew, then there was a strange -silence. Something like a sigh went up from all that -quarter of the town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id2"><span id="book-ii"></span><span class="large">BOOK II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie was not much affected by Curly's sarcastic -philosophy; he had not yet attained to Curly's point of -view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you don't put up that rod, I'll ditch it for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id3"><span class="large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look!" he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Gibbs, in an introductory way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just fifty of each, heh?" he asked when he had done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right, is it?" Gibbs repeated; a shrewdness -in his squint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Curly said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sixty per cent.," said Gibbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," said Curly somewhat impatiently, -as one who disliked haggling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That goes with you, does it, Dutch?" Gibbs said to -Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't do much with that," he said. "But you -leave it and I'll see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And look at," Curly was going on, "you'll bit up -on that burned darb; you be around in a day or two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Kouka, "so I've got you again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better duck out o' here, young fellow," -Kouka was saying. "You hear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie heard, but it was a moment before he could -fully realize that Kouka knew nothing after all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You hear?" Kouka repeated, bringing his face close -to Archie's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I hear," said Archie sullenly, as it seemed, but -thankfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let me see you around any more, you--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id4"><span class="large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Bills is engaged just now," the man said in a -hushed tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, tell him Mr. Gibbs is here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he's engaged just now, sir; he's dictating." The -man leaned forward and whispered the word -"dictating" impressively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Gibbs kept on toward the door; then the man -blocked his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell him if you want to," said Gibbs, "if not, I will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Mr. Gibbs," he said. "You will excuse me a moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mr. Gibbs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs drew his chair close to Bills's desk, and, taking -a package from his pocket, laid out the stamps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One hundred sheets of twos, fifty of ones," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for mine," said Gibbs decisively. "I've always -done business with you. I don't know this fellow -Wilson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bills, choosing to take it as a tribute, smiled and went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we're fully stocked just now, but--how -would a sixty per cent. proposition strike you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Gibbs, as decisively as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" repeated Bills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," Gibbs went on, "seventy-five."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bills thought a moment, absently lifting the rustling -sheets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many did you say there were?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They come to one-fifty," said Gibbs; "count 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bills did count them, and when he had done, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would make it one-twelve-fifty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well. Shall I pass the amount to your credit?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I'll take the cash."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought perhaps Mrs. Gibbs would be wanting -some things in the summer line," said Bills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We pay cash," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs counted the money carefully, rolled it up -deliberately and stuffed it into his trousers pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs went in, a parcel in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just a little matter of some mutilated currency," he -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Amos's thin lips seemed to smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may leave it and we'll be glad to forward it to -Washington for you, Mr. Gibbs," he said, without moving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs laid the bundle on old Amos's desk, and, -taking up a bit of paper, wrote on it and handed it to -Hunter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you a memorandum there?" asked Hunter. -He glanced at the paper and wrote on the slip:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A. H."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs thanked him and went away. His morning's -work among the business men of the city was done.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id5"><span class="large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours in durance vile,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>SLIM.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Je's!" he exclaimed. "I'm getting nutty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Kate?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She went to bed half an hour ago," said Mason. -"Why--what's the excitement?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eddie Dean's here--come on out." Gibbs -disappeared; the door closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just in time, my good fellow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's to the suckers--may they never grow less."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm going out in the morning," Dean was saying, -the diamond on his white, delicate hand flashing as -he lifted his glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which way?" asked Gibbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm working eastward," said Dean. "Here!" he -turned to the bartender, "let's have another--and get -another barrel of water for Dan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled with what tolerance he could find for a -man who did not drink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much of that stuff do you lap up in a week, Dan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't know," Gibbs said. He was not quick -at repartee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, slush up, but don't make yourself sick," Dean -went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, how's the graft?" Gibbs asked presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, fairly good," said Dean. "A couple of bucks -yesterday." He switched his leg with the slender stick -he carried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs's eyes lighted with humorous interest and pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know," said Gibbs, shaking his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, old Tom Young."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" exclaimed Gibbs, looking up in genuine -interest and surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said Dean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's he doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs's eyes kindled with lively memories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs remembered, but that did not keep Dean from -relating the whole story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What became of Steve Harris?" Dean asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's out with the rag, I guess," Gibbs replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard Winnie sold her place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice had changed; he spoke in the cracked tone -of the farmer, and his little audience laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jake Rend was running the side-show, and old Jew -Cohen had a dollar store--a drop-case, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs nodded again. Dean grew meditative, and a -silence fell on the group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dean meditated over the lost days a moment, and -then he grew cheerful again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Danny," he said, in a tone of the -greatest familiarity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elbow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Gibbs, "reporter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned and, speaking to the new-comer, he -presented him to Dean, saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Jordon, make you acquainted with Mr. Wales, -of the </span><em class="italics">Courier</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to meet you, Mr. Jordon," said the newspaper man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, chawmed, I'm suah," said Dean, keeping to the -English accent he had just been using. "I say, won't -you join us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Dean had gone, taking his three companions -with him, Gibbs and Mason sat for a long while in the -back room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that's Eddie Dean!" said Mason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Gibbs, "that's him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what's his graft?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Gibbs, "the send, the bull con, the big -mitt, the cross lift--anything in that line."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And those two other guys with him?" asked Mason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That little one is Willie the Rat, the other is Gaffney."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure-thing men, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, they're in Ed's mob."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mason was still for a while, then he observed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Je's! He did make a monkey of that cove!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's smart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the smartest in the business. He's made -several ten-century touches."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs thought seriously a moment and then said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he isn't smart; he's a damn fool, like all of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, settled twice; done a two-spot at Joliet and a -finiff at Ionia."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mason knit his brows and thought a long time, while -Gibbs smoked. Finally Mason shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I can't explain it, Joe. You heard him string -that chump to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mason dropped that phase of the question and -promptly said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dan, I suppose there's games higher up, ain't they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs laughed a superior laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Higher up? Joe, there's games that beat his just as -much as his beats yours. I could name you men--" Then -he paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs was about to speak, but Mason was too -serious to let himself be interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was thinking it all over to-night, and I -decided--know what I decided?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mason leaned back, tried to speak, paused, swallowed, -and moistened his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his hand to his head and Gibbs was concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better take a little drink, Joe," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Gibbs had brought the whisky, they sat there -and discussed the future until the early summer dawn -was red.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id6"><span class="large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stick and slug!" cried Mandell, made irritable by -the storm. But Dillon repressed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unload!" he commanded. "Don't goat 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, Dutch," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was crawling through the window; Archie followed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 66%" id="figure-77"> -<span id="archie-could-see-him-plastering-up-the-crevices"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Archie could see him plastering up the crevices" src="images/img-206.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Archie could see him plastering up the crevices</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the string," said Archie, anxious to display -his knowledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheese it!" Dillon commanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," Dillon said. "Lam!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id7"><span class="large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't take a little friendly advice, could you?" -said Kouka, thrusting forward his black face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie was dumb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where'd you get that gat?" Kouka demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still Archie was dumb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might as well tell," Kouka said. "Your pals -have split on you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Squeak hesitated, then said: "Davis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fallen laughed in his superior, federal way, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That'll do as well as any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he looked at Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're wrong on that fellow Mason," said Carney.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fallen looked at him, then at Mason; then he smiled -his superior smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I guess not," he said lightly. He turned away -with his complacent, insulting smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men in the chained line shuffled uneasily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do I get out now?" Archie asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kouka laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes--when I'm through with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just heard of the pinch," he said apologetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't they send you word last night?" asked Dillon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs shook his head impatiently, as if it were -useless to waste time in discussing such improbabilities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind," he said. "I'll send a mouthpiece."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, do, Dan," said Mason. "We want a hearing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now, leave all that to me, Joe," said Gibbs. -"I'll send you some tobacco and have John fetch in -some chuck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You think I'm guilty of this, Mr. Marriott."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott tried to smile, and tried to protest, but his -looks must have belied him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The twelfth," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was Saturday, wasn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are they--" Marriott felt a delicacy in saying the word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thieves?" said Mason. "Yes--you see how it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mason paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Mason was talking a great wave of sympathy -swept over Marriott; a conviction came to him that -Mason was telling the truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," he said as the thought came to him, "can't -Dillon and the others help you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he was there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll swear to it?" asked Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said Wales, "with pleasure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was relief in Mason's eyes and in his manner, -as there was relief in Marriott's mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id8"><span class="large">VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Although Fallen had told the police they could set -Archie free, the police did not set him free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's that fellow Kouka," Archie explained to Marriott. -"He's got it in for me; he wants to see me get -the gaff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheese it, Ike! Cheese it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kouka stopped and got up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Set down, Arch, old boy," Kouka said, "and let me -tell you all about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Kouka," he said, "how did you tumble?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kouka laughed. He was in fine humor that morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kouka looked at Quinn and smiled, and then he -said to Archie:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what you don't know won't hurt you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have they been doing to you?" asked a prisoner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The third degree," said Archie laconically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id9"><span class="large">VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aren't you going to unhandcuff these men?" said -Marriott to the marshal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The case of the United States </span><em class="italics">versus</em><span> Dillon and -others." Wilkison was officially fingering the papers on -his desk. "Are the defendants ready for hearing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take the witness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott was surprised and puzzled; the suspicions -that he had all along held were increased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many witnesses will you have?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Marriott," Wilkison was saying in his most -impartial tone, "do you wish to examine this witness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked in triumph at Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The defendants will be remanded to the custody of -the marshal for removal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, let him talk to them a minute. Good God--!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marshal glared at Marriott, and then gave way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he wants to be quick about it," he threatened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs leaned over Mason's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Joe," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm kangarooed, Dan," said Mason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks that way," said Gibbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs looked hurt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Joe," he said, "I've known you for forty years, and -that's the only mean thing you ever said to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, don't get sore, Dan," Mason said. "I knew -you would--only--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id10"><span class="large">IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've gone to the bad," said Gibbs. Marriott looked -at him in silence. The fact needed no comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you won't do him any good, at that--" McDougall -began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He hasn't touched a drop for five years," said -McDougall indulgently. "But when they kangarooed -Mason--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was an outrage," he said. "Mason has been right -here in town--I saw him that day. He ought to be -alibied."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't you testify?" asked Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>McDougall looked at Marriott with suspicion, and -hesitated. But suddenly Gibbs, whom they had -supposed to be asleep, said impatiently, without opening -his eyes:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs suddenly sat up, opened his eyes, and drew an -enormous roll of money from his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It comes out of me," Gibbs explained again. -"They hadn't any fall money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you heard from them?" asked Marriott, who -did not know what fall money was, and wished to -change the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id11"><span class="large">X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello! Beg pardon--is that you, 'Gusta?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" she exclaimed, leaning against the wall, "you -scared me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's too bad; I had no idea," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be scared," he said. "I wouldn't frighten -you for the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was overwhelmed with weakness and confusion. -She shrank against the wall and turned her head aside; -her heart was beating rapidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I--I'm late to-day," she said. "I ought to have -been here this morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you weren't," said Dick, looking at her -with glowing eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must hurry"---she tried to slip away. "I--must -be going home, it's getting late; you--you must let me go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind. I'll take you home in my machine. -May I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him in wonderment. What did he -mean? Was he in earnest?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I?" he pressed her hands for emphasis, and -gazed into her eyes irresistibly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, "if you'll--let me--go now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait a minute!" he called. "I came home to get -something. You'll wait?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll go again for a longer ride. What do you -say to to-morrow night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated, tried to decide against him, and -before she could decide, consented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So!" he said, looking angrily into her face. "So -that's it, is it? Oh--I saw you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go away!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He snatched at her, caught her by the wrist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go away, is it?" he exclaimed fiercely. "I've caught -you this time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me alone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I will! Oh, yes, I'll let you alone! And him, -too; I'll fix him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left him standing there in the gloom. She -hurried on; it was but a few steps to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta!" he called. "Gusta! Wait!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she hurried on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta! Wait a minute!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated. There was something appealing in -his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Gusta!" he repeated. "Won't you wait?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id12"><span class="large">XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff laughed, and then with the knowledge -and familiarity men love so much to display, he went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thought we wanted to see the prison, eh? Well, -I've seen it, and the boy here'll see more'n he wants."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The warden's runner smiled perfunctorily and was -about to turn away, when Bentley spoke again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long you in for?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trusties," Bentley explained. "They've got a snap."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hot day," said the sheriff, wiping his brow. The -sallow clerk, on whom the official air sat heavily, -ignored this and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's have your papers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by, Archie." Bentley held out his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by," said Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's a fresh fish, Deputy," said the guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The deputy warden of the prison, Ball, flecked the -ashes from his cigar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back again, eh?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie stared, and then he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never stirred before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's your name?" asked the deputy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie told him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Age?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-three."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father and mother living?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who shall we notify if you die while you're with us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie started; and the deputy laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Notify them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ever convicted before? No? Why, Koerner, you -really must not lie to me like that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the statistical questions were finished the -deputy said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll do--looks to me like he could make bolts. -Ever work at a machine?" he suddenly asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put him on Bolt B," said the contractor; "he can -learn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day ended, somehow; the evening came, with -supper in the low-ceiled, dim dining-hall, then the cells.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll lock in G6," said the guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id13"><span class="large">XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I'll become a stenographer or a trained nurse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward. "To talk like -that! You should pay more attention to your social -duties."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" demanded Elizabeth, looking at her mother -with clear, sober eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Ward, in her habitual avoidance of reasons, -could not think of one instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You owe it to your station," she declared presently, -and then, as if this were, after all, a reason, she added, -"that's why."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick showed all the manly indignation of an elder -brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By what right--" she resumed, but Marriott interrupted her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't take that road; it will only make you unhappy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't tried that case yet," Marriott said with a -guilty expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dreadful of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott, "I'm glad -you're about again. How are you getting along?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your case will come on for trial now," he said; "we -must talk it over and get our evidence in shape."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dot bin a long time alreadty, dot trial."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it has," said Marriott, "but we'll get to it now -in two weeks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yah, dot's vat you say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott found relief in turning to the case. As he -was looking for the pleadings, he said carelessly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's Gusta?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id14"><span class="large">XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the blind woman had been consigned, so far -as the bureau was concerned, to the poorhouse, -Mrs. Russell said in her soft voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there any unfinished business?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame President."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id15"><span class="large">XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll lay the floors in canvas," said Mrs. Russell, -with a little laugh she could not keep from ending in a -sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was not exactly reassuring and Elizabeth felt -as much the moment she had said it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I shall!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so glad you dropped in, Mrs. Norton," said -Mrs. Rider. "We have a most perplexing case."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here!" said Elizabeth fearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She opened her purse and emptied from it into the -woman's hand all the silver it held.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The air is better in here," she said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id16"><span class="large">XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flung up a window and let the fresh air pour in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I feel that we're making progress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't feel as if we'd done much," some one else -said. "And I can not come on Friday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know, I really haven't got a single one of -my Christmas presents yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have to give sixty-seven! Just think! What a -burden it all is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember the poor! Remember the poor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id17"><span class="large">XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long have you been out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A month," said Graves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I haven't got no use for convicts," said the -agent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graves waited in the hall. He waited until it was -dark, but not so dark that the agent could not -recognize him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You needn't hang around," he said; "there's -nothing to steal here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id18"><span class="large">XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll promise not to send him any flowers," -Elizabeth said quickly. "He'll have to hang?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gordon is particular," Elizabeth observed with a laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades thought she laughed sympathetically; and he -wanted all her sympathy for himself just then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He calls it killing." Eades grasped the word boldly, -like a nettle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gordon doesn't believe in capital punishment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tone startled him. He glanced up. She was -looking at him steadily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you read of this man's crime?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't read about crimes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it couldn't have been hard to convict him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," Eades admitted, though he did not like this -detraction from his triumph. "But the responsibility -is great."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should imagine so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not know exactly what she meant; he -wondered if this were sarcasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is indeed," he insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're guying now," he said, leaning back in his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, not always. We become emotional, but our -emotions are usually excited on the side of justice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Justice? Why--well--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You divide yourself into two personalities?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, in that sense--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How disagreeable!" Elizabeth gave a little shrug. -"It's a kind of vivisection, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But something has to be done. What would you -have me do?" He sat up and met her, and she shrank -from the conflict.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is strange to be discussing such topics," said -Eades. "You must pardon me for being so disagreeable -and depressing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The one you dream of?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Do you ever dream of your criminals?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know him already," Elizabeth said hastily, her -cheeks coloring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Do you remember Harry Graves?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades bent his head and placed his knuckles to his chin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Graves, Graves?" he said. "It seems to me--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The boy who stole from my father; you had him -sent to the penitentiary for a year--and papa--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I remember; that boy! To be sure. His term -must be over now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it's over. I've seen him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You!" he said in surprise. "Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At the Charity Bureau, before Christmas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your charity bazaar was a success, I hope?" he -said presently, coming back to the lighter side of their -last topic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I never inquired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You never inquired?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How strange! Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I lost interest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" he laughed. "Well, we all do that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The whole thing palled on me--struck me as ridiculous."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades was perplexed. He could not in the least -understand this latest attitude. Surely, she was a girl of -many surprises.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it isn't to help the poor at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was still more perplexed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's to help the rich. Can't you see that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned and faced him with clear, sober gray -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you see that?" she asked again. "If you -can't, I wish I knew how to make you.</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'The organized charity, scrimped and iced,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the name of a cautious, statistical Christ'--</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Do you know Boyle O'Reilly's poetry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades showed the embarrassment of one who has -not the habit of reading, and she saw that the words -had no meaning for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id19"><span class="large">XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I understand it, then, Mr. Koerner," said Ford, -"you were walking homeward at the end of the day -through the railroad yards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, dot's right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd always gone home that way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure; I go dot vay for twenty year, right t'rough -dose yards dere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Was that a public highway, Mr. Koerner?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, everybody go dot vay home all right; dot's so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it wasn't a street?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor a sidewalk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jurymen laughed and Ford smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yah, undt I knows a damn-sight more about dose -yards dan you, you bet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the jurymen laughed in vicarious pleasure at -another's profanity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I yield to you there, Mr. Koerner," said Ford in -his suave manner. "But let us go on. You say your -foot slipped?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yah, dot's right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Slipped on the frozen snow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yah. I bedt you shlip on such a place as dot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt," said Ford, who suddenly ceased to -smile. He now leaned forward; the faces of the two -protagonists seemed to be close together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, as a result, your foot slid into the frog, and -was wedged there so that you could not get it out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the engine came along just then and ran over it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ford suddenly sat upright, turned away, seemed to -have lost interest, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all, Mr. Koerner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sharlow looked at Marriott, then said, as if to hurry -Koerner off the stand:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all, Mr. Koerner. Call your next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">prima facie</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At half-past one the bailiff returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any sign?" he asked Koerner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dey was some fightin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll take their time," said the bailiff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vot you t'ink?" Koerner ventured to ask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you'll win," said the bailiff. But Koerner was -not so sure about that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the verdict Marriott went to the Koerners and -whispered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can go now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I congratulate you, Mr. Koerner," said -Marriott when they were in the corridor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's dot?" asked the old man harshly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you won."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; didn't you know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I vin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, you won. You get eight thousand dollars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man stopped and looked at Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eight t'ousandt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, eight thousand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I get eight t'ousandt, huh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A smile transfigured the heavy, bony face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Py Gott!" he said. "Dot's goodt, hain't it?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id20"><span class="large">XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner took his constant pipe from his lips, raised -his eyes and made an observation of the heavens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aren't you afraid for your rheumatism?" asked -Marriott, sitting down beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vot's up now again, huh?" demanded Koerner, -ignoring this solicitude for his health.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing but good news this time," Marriott was -glad to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goodt news, huh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, good news. The judge has refused the motion -for a new trial."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Den I vin for sure dis time, ain't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, this time," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I get my money now right avay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, pretty soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man turned to Marriott with his blue eyes -narrowed beneath the white brush of his eyebrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vot you mean by dot pretty soon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we must be patient, Mr. Koerner," he said. "It -will come out all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked at Marriott quizzically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man's lips trembled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, she's gone, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Koerner," he asked, "why aren't you smoking?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man seemed ashamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," Marriott demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell--dot's all right. I hain't--chust got der tobacco."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, here's a pipeful, anyway; this'll do till I can -send you some."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, Mis'er Marriott, you nefer t'ought you see der -oldt man shmokin' cigarettes, huh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott laughed, glad of the relief, and glad of the -new sense of comradeship the tobacco brought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now tell me, Mr. Koerner," he said, "are you in -want--do you need anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner did not reply at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on now," Marriott urged, "tell me--have you -anything to eat in the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell," Koerner admitted, "not much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you anything at all to eat?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner hung his head then, in the strange, -unaccountable shame people feel in poverty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, I--undt der oldt voman--ve hafn't had -anyt'ing to eat to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the children?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ve gif dem der last dis morning alreadty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was about to add "the pain," but he recognized -the selfishness of this view, and paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll help you, of course," he went on. "My God, -man, you mustn't go hungry! Won't the grocer trust you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go and attend to it," said Marriott, rising at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll attend to that, too, Mr. Koerner; I'll write down -and find out, and I'll let you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know where she is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The white head shook again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's go avay--she's got in trouble, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner looked up, clutching at hope again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You t'ink dot? You t'ink I vin, huh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said Marriott heartily, determined to drag -joy back into the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Koerner stretched forth his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bin a goodt friendt, Mis'er Marriott."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some bacon? Yes, sir. Sugar, butter, bread? Yes, -sir. Coffee? Here you are, sir. Potatoes--about a -peck, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xx"><span class="large">XX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Archie, my boy, had enough?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Belden, who worked a machine next to Archie, did -that; but only as a last resort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You stick to that pad," said Sweeny, "and the -croakers'll be peddling your stiff in a month."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie recovered then and went back to Bolt B.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want to stay around here for? Ain't -there other countries besides this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man sniggered in his silly way, then he went -to the warden, and hanging his head with a demented -leer said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Warden, the Kid said there's other countries -besides this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood, swaying like a doltish school-boy from -side to side, grinning, with his tongue lolling over his -lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The warden summoned the Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean," he said, "putting notions in -old Farlow's head?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Kid was surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, come off," said the warden impatiently. "You -know--telling him there were other countries besides -this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're too smart, Willie," said the warden. "You'd -better go back to the shops."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's the plant?" the Kid would ask. "In the jungle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you'll never find out!" Dalton would reply warily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some of the hoosiers or the bulls are likely to -spring it," the Kid would suggest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The possibility tortured Dalton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By God," he could only say, "if they do--I'll croak 'em!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said Archie, grinning, proud to be thus -recognized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the grift; we'll nick the screw; and when -you go home you'll be ready to--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Dalton determinedly, "I've got them tools -planted--but--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you take him out with a swell mob of -guns?" suggested Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think he could stall for the dip?" asked the Kid. -"What do you think, Jack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll stick to prowlin'," said Dalton, shaking his head -and muttering to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's stir simple," remarked the Kid, not without pity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Kid was tired of his new occupation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe I'm a very good bolt-maker," he -said to Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might cut off a finger, or get Sweeny--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't I tell you to stop that spieling?" demanded -a guard who had slipped up behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Kid gave the guard a look that expressed the -contempt he felt for him better than any words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll report you for insolence," said the guard angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For what?" said the Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Insolence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could you?" asked the Kid calmly. "You -couldn't spell the word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The guard made a mark on his card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll be stood out for that," said the guard. The -Kid's face darkened, but he controlled himself. For -he had another plan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days later he said to Archie:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you on to that inspector?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for?" asked Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's boostin' bolts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. McBride," he said, "I want a thousand dollars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>McBride took his cigar from his lips, flecked some -dust from his new top-coat, and a laugh spread over -his rough red face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the kid this time, Willie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is on the square," said the Kid. "I want a -thousand case, that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>McBride saw that he was serious for once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll blow it off, if you don't," said the Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blow what off?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The graft."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What graft?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The defectives--oh, you know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>McBride turned ashen, then his face blazed suddenly -with rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll report you for this insolence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," said the Kid, "I'll report you for -stealing. It ain't moral, the sky-pilot says."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bum gimp, eh, Doc?" he would say mournfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get to work, you!" he said in a rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie looked at him sullenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You hear?" yelled McGlynn, raising his voice -above the din of the machines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie did not move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>McGlynn took a step toward him, but when he saw -the look in Archie's eyes, he paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand out, you toaster," he said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, again!" said Ball the next day. "Well, well, -well! If you insist; give him the paddle, Jim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Archie would not work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning Ball patted him on the head, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear boy! You are certainly foolish. He -wants the water, Jim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess that'll do, Jim," said Ball.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Archie regained consciousness they sent him -back to the bolt-shop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he would not work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning Ball showed again that tenderness -that appealed so strongly to the humane gentlemen -on the Prison Board.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Ball came and stood looking at him -through the little grated wicket in the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Archie, how goes it?" he said. "Had -enough? Ready to go back to work?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll croak you for this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ball laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, good night, my lad," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie lay on a plank, the handcuffs still on him, -all the night. In the morning they hung him up again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They lowered his body. The doctor bent his head -to the white breast and listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take him to the hospital," he said. "I guess he's -had about all he can stand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God, he had nerve!" said Ball, looking at the body. -"He wouldn't give in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxi"><span class="large">XXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in, come in," said Ford. "I'm glad to see -you. I want some one to talk to. Have a cigar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a beautiful place you have here, Mr. Ford!" -Eades exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it'll do for an old--for a man to spend his -declining years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," mused Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ford winced at this immediate acquiescence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what a night!" Eades went on, "Ideal for a -wedding."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ford looked at him a moment, then decided to -change the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I see you struck pay-dirt in the grand jury," -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied Eades, turning away from night and -nature when such subjects were introduced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're doing a good work there," said Ford; "a -good work for law and order."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He met her at the foot of the staircase, and they went -out of doors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," exclaimed Elizabeth, "how delicious it is out -here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a beautiful place the Fords have here!" said -Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Elizabeth, "it's ideal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glanced at the girl; she had become still almost -to rigidity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't," she said, "please don't." She had turned -from him now and taken a step backward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she began, "I can not; I--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't say no," he said. "You have not considered, -I am sure. Won't you at least think before deciding -definitely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must not decide hastily," he insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must go in." She turned back toward the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can wait to know," Eades assured her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They retraced their steps silently. As they went up -the walk she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I am not insensible of the honor, Mr. Eades."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The phrase instantly seemed inadequate, even silly, -to her. Why was it she never could be at ease with -him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't decide, I beg," he said, "until you have -considered the matter carefully. Promise me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must leave me now," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said Marriott suddenly, "there goes John -Eades. I hadn't seen him before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She longed for his opinion and yet just then she felt -it impossible to ask it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" She could not forbear to ask, but she put -the question with a little note of challenge that made -Marriott turn his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of those young civilians."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of what young civilians?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That Emerson writes about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's not so very young, is he?" Elizabeth tried to -smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The young civilians are often very old; I have -known them to be octogenarians."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where does Emerson say--that?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look it up and see," he said presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him steadily, though it was with a -great effort, tried to smile, and the smile made her -utterly sick at heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I--must look up father," she said, "it's time--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a fool," he said to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id21"><span id="book-iii"></span><span class="large">BOOK III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who can that be, sister?" said Bridget, looking up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder now!" said Margaret in a surprise that -was almost an alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The knocking was repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary help us!" said Bridget, again making the -sign of the cross. "No one ever came at this hour before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The knocking sounded again, louder, more insistent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You go on to the door, sister," said Bridget, "and -let them in,--whoever they may be, I dunno."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id22"><span class="large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Dan?" asked Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender looked at him superciliously, and -then concluded to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's not here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not down yet, heh?" said Archie. "Do you know -a certain party called--" Archie glanced about -cautiously and leaned over the bar, "--called Curly?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender looked at him blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the bartender saw this his face set in a kind -of superstitious terror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't mind him," said Archie; "He's stir simple."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elbow, eh?" said Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yep," said the bartender. "Cunningham."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A new one on me. Kouka here yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Flyin'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell Dan I was here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who shall I say?" inquired the bartender.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dutch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes! All right. He'll be down about one o'clock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Archie! Back again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Archie. He would have kept on, but -Quinn laid a hand on his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on a minute," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the rap?" asked Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you'd better come down to the front office a -minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your attorney!" sneered Bostwick, "and who's -your attorney?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Marriott," said Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll give you till evening to get out of town--you -hear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie, standing at attention in the old military way, -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got to clear out; we don't want you around, -you understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," said Bostwick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Miss Clason?" Archie asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you want to see her?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I'm looking for a certain party."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know him, maybe--they call him Curly; -Jackson's his name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl looked at Archie, exchanged glances with -the bartender; and then asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You a friend o' hisn?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I just got home, and I must find him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie was relieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell him Dutch was in, will you?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," replied the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe he's in at Hunt's," said the thin girl, -speaking for the first time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was going there," said Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind," said Archie, "I'll go in to Hunt's myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dutch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dutch who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just Dutch," said Archie, smiling at her insistence. -"He'll know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hell!" said the girl, "what's your name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie looked down into her brown eyes and smiled -mockingly; then he relented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's Archie Koerner. Ever hear of me before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl's black brows, which already met across her -nose, thickened in the effort to recall him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're no more wiser than you was; are you, little -one?" said Archie, and walked away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Dutch!" she said, taking her cigar from her -lips in surprise. "When did you get home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who made the pinch?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quinn and some new gendy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suspicion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh," said Bertha, beginning to pull at her cigar -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's John?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he went up town a while ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Curly here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he's around. Just got in the other day. What -you goin' to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Curly hasn't been out for a while. He'll be -glad to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Gus with him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you plant here, my boy," she said in a -motherly way, "till Curly comes."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The long draw?" he said in a low tone, as she -passed him to go to the woman who had the lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Umph huh," said Bertha.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought maybe he might be--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's your husband now?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie, beginning to fear the publicity of midday, -had gone into the back room again. Presently Bertha -joined him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thought it was up to me to plant back here," he -said, explaining his withdrawal. "There might be an -elbow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smoked her cigar and ruminated on this excessive -love of romanticistic literature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, how are you, anyway? When did you land in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yesterday morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been out home yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie's eyes fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you can't stay here," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I was waiting to see you. I've got to get to -work. Got anything now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Ted and me have a couple of marks--a jug and a p. o."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, out in the jungle--several of the tribes have -filled it out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now," Curly said, shaking his head; "the old -stool-pigeon's out--she's a mile high these nights."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A reminiscent smile passed lightly over Curly's face, -and he flecked the ash from his cigarette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dave--Phillie Dave we call him; he really belonged -to the cat--he's become a copper. He was before your -time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They chatted a little while, and as the noise in the -bar-room increased, Curly said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't hang out here. Those hoosiers are likely -to start something any minute--we'll have to lam."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll go over to old Sam Gray's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man smiled vaguely at the mention of the -old thief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," he said, taking Archie's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's back there?" asked Curly, jerking his head -toward a partition from behind which voices came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A couple of the girls," said old Sam. "You know -'em, I guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two women who sat at a table in the rear room -looked up hastily when the men appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Curly," they said, in surprise and relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't do nothin' in them stir clothes." Before -he could reply, she got up impulsively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie tried to thank her, but she laughed his -platitudes aside and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, Sadie, we must get to work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were away Archie looked at Curly in -surprise. There were things, evidently, he had not yet -learned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The best lifter in the business," Curly said, but he -added a qualification that expressed a tardy loyalty, -"except Jane."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie found he could wear the clothes, and he felt -better when he had them on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I only had a rod now," he remarked. "I'll have -to go out and boost one, I guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't show for a day," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had that gat of mine. I wouldn't mind -doing time if I had that to show for it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id23"><span class="large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Chief," one of the men began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cleary looked at him with an expression of unutterable -scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood glowering a moment, then repeated all he -had said, cursed them all again, and left the room, -swearing to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you care to give out anything, Chief, about the -Flanagan job?" asked one of the reporters timidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Cleary bluntly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you any clue?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cleary thought a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll have the men to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reporters stepped eagerly forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any details, Chief?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd be likely to give 'em to you fellows to print, -wouldn't I?" said Cleary sarcastically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you care to comment on what the </span><em class="italics">Post</em><span> said this -evening?" asked a representative of that paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the hell do I care what your dirty, blackmailing -sheet says? What the hell do I care?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id24"><span class="large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't shoot until I give the command."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all off," said Kouka. "The house is surrounded. -Where is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vat de hell ails you fellers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You vant Archie, huh?" asked Koerner. "Dot's it, -aind't it--Archie--my poy Archie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Archie, and we want him quick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vat you want mit him, huh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's none of your business what we want with him," -Kouka replied with an oath. "Where is he? Hurry up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bin a detective, huh? Dot's it, a detective?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You got some bapers for him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man shuffled backward, leaned against the -table for support and raised his crutch for protection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You better look oudt, Mis'er Detective," said -Koerner. "You'd better look oudt. Py Gott--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kouka stopped, considered, then changed his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Mr. Koerner," he said. "It's no use. -We know Archie's here and we want him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's not here," suddenly spoke Mrs. Koerner beside -him. "He's not here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hell he ain't!" said Kouka. "I saw him come -in--ten minutes ago. Search the house, men." And -the rummaging began again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men were about to enter the little room where -Koerner slept: it was dark in there and one of them -took the lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look oudt!" Koerner said suddenly. "Look oudt! -You go in dere if you vant to, but, py Gott, don't -blame me if--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men suddenly halted and stepped back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on in!" commanded Kouka. "What do you -want to stand there for? Are you afraid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they went, ransacked that room, threw -everything into disorder and came out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one there," they reported in relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's been kidding us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here they went!" cried Kouka.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id25"><span class="large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, Archie," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie turned in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all off," Curly said. "We're dogged."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bulls--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Across the street--an elbow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly glanced toward the back room. But Archie -suddenly grew stubborn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said. "Let's stick and slug."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be a chump," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're heeled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they'd settle you in a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They can't. We can bust the bulls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He brushed past them in the doorway, and called -from the kitchen:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides, you've got orders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God!" he said, "I hain't going another step! I'm -all in!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all right," said Curly; "we've made a getaway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He relaxed and slouched over to where Archie stood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we, do you know?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How far from the spill?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About three blocks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, we must get out on the main stem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you know the bulls was there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I piked off the elbow just as we went in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't see him," said Archie. "Where was he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right across the street, planted in a doorway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you suppose he'd spotted us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he was layin' for you, that's all. He had it all -framed up. He thought he'd job you and swell himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think of that now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The dog's out," said Curly, who had almost as -many names for the moon as a poet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now's our chance," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish we were on that rattler," said Archie, with -the longing a departing train inspires, and more than -the normal longing. Curly laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The John O'Brien's good enough for us," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they awoke, the car was standing still and a -gray light came through the cracks of the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder where we are," said Archie, rubbing his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly got up, stretched, crept to the middle of the -car and looked out. Presently Archie heard him say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marooned!" said Curly, and he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hell!" said Archie. "There's nothing to it. Let's -mope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something of Archie's recklessness and disregard of -consequences affected Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, all right," he said; "come on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly and Archie shrank into the darkness of the -car. Archie had drawn his revolver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put it up," said Curly, with the anger of his -disappointment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They waited and listened; the switchman's voice was -heard no more; he must have gone away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll blow us to the railroad coppers. Now's our -only chance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't push the rod!" Curly commanded. "What -in hell ails you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, sin not leery! I'll plug 'em for keeps!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly looked into Archie's white face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are the bulls tailing on?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're coming strong! Listen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'd better cave!" urged Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like hell!" Archie replied. "They don't drop me -without a muss now. If you want to flunk--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly's face flamed and his little eyes pierced Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look out, young fellow!" he said, taking a sudden -step toward him. Archie looked at him with a sneer. -Then Curly stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Dutch," he said. "Don't be a fool. We're--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Half an hour passed. They heard the clang of a -gong in the near-by street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The pie wagon," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie was quiet. There was a cheer, then a voice, -deep, commanding and official:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surrender in the name of the law!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly looked a question at Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What ails you to-day?" asked Archie. "Lost your nerve?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't lost my nut."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll give you three minutes," said the voice, "then -if you don't come out, holding up your hands, we'll fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've only got one left," he said, turning from the -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, then we'll cave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly got up, went to the door, flung it open and -held up his hands. The mob cheered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 64%" id="figure-78"> -<span id="archie-looked-about-with-a-white-defiant-face"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Archie looked about with a white, defiant face" src="images/img-384.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Archie looked about with a white, defiant face</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might as well--" he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I croaked him all right," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A patrolman struck him with a club; and he staggered -as the blow fell with a sharp crash on his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id26"><span class="large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's a young lawyer to see Koerner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many damned lawyers," he said, taking a -corn-cob pipe from his mouth, "is that feller going to -have, anyway?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," asked Marriott in a sudden hope that ignored -the man's insolence, "have there been others?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Humph!" said the turnkey, jangling his heavy -keys. "Only about a dozen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll see him anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" he said presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Got a match, Mr. Marriott?" Archie asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I got your message only this morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Humph!" sneered Archie. "That's the way of -them coppers. I asked 'em to 'phone you the morning -they made the pinch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they didn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They told me you had seen others."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you, Archie," he was saying, "I can't consent -to represent you if either of these fellows is in the -case."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can we be ready by then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there's nothin' to it down here. We'll waive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie leaned forward in an appeal that was -irresistible, convincing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He repeated the word thus strangely employed a -number of times, as if it gave him relief and comfort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, he agitated me to it. I had to; that's all. -It was a case of self-defense."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott was silent for a few moments. Then he asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you talked to the police?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They give me the third degree, but--there was -nothin' doin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, that don't make no difference. They -can frame up a confession all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'd hardly do anything that desperate," said -Marriott, though not with the greatest assurance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Archie, "I wouldn't put it past 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Archie, let's get down to business; tell me -the particulars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Archie narrated the events that led up to the -tragedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to see the old people--and the kids--and -Gus." He was silent then, and Marriott did not break -the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Mr. Marriott," the boy suddenly asked, -"where is Gus?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's become of her? Do you know that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"N-no--," said Marriott. He felt that Archie was -eying him shrewdly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know," said Archie in the lowest tone, "I'm -afraid, I've got a kind of hunch--that she's--gone -wrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott feared his own silence, but he could not -speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott owned that he had not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the morning," Archie went on, "they lagged -us and we ran--they began to shoot, and--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said very quietly. "I had my rod, and -barked at Kouka. I got him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your clothes seem pretty good; they look new. -They gave them to you, I suppose, at the penitentiary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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--</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id27"><span class="large">VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cleary, trying to speak with an exaggerated tenderness, -finally said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my poor sister! my poor sister! You kilt her! -You kilt her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Cleary, Quinn, Bentley, the policemen, the -detectives, the reporters, looked at one another and -smiled, Cleary bent over the old woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take him down!" shouted Cleary angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id28"><span class="large">VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Archie!" she said. "Oh, Archie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Archie! Archie! </span><em class="italics">Archie!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say you didn't do it, Archie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean Kouka?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," she said, impatient with the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That Flanagan job?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded rapidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so glad!" she said, her bosom rising and falling -in relief. "They all said--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so glad," Gusta was smiling now. "But--" she -began. Her lip quivered; the tears started afresh. -"What about the other?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'd say anything--that's his business," Archie -went on, unable to restrain himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sh! Don't, Archie!" Gusta said. "Don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's father?" Archie asked, after a silence, -striving for a commonplace tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's well,--I guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He knows, does he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I--don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Why--can't you tell him? He could get -down here, couldn't he? He had a crutch when I was -there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Archie coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up suddenly, read the meaning of his -changed expression, and then she pressed her face -against the bars tightly, and cried out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Archie! Don't! Don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was hard with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By God!" he said. "I don't know why </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> should -have--oh, hell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He whirled on his heel, as if he would go away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clung to the bars, pressing her face against -them, trying, as it were, to thrust her lips through -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Time's up," said the officer. "I've got to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And come down to-morrow, Gus," said Archie. -She scarcely heard him as she turned to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on!" he called, pressing his face to the bars. -"Say! Gus! Come here a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She returned. She lifted her face, and he kissed -her through the bars. And she went away, with sobs -that racked her whole form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she started out by the convenient side door into -the alley, the officer laid a hand on her shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way, young woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better go out the other door," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want?" she asked in surprise,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess you'd better stay here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Matron," said the officer, "take this girl in -charge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--</span><em class="italics">arrested</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what they call it," said the officer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll find out in time. Take her up-stairs, Matron."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta looked at the officer, then at the matron. Her -face was perfectly white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The matron drew near, put her arm about her, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta swayed uncertainly, tottered, then dragged -herself off, leaning against the matron, walking as if -in a daze.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id29"><span class="large">IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She received him in her old manner, without any -of the stiffness he had feared the months might have -made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Gordon," she said. "I'm so glad you came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you been reading? Oh, </span><em class="italics">Walden</em><span>!" And -he turned to her with the smile of their old -comradeship in such things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came with a message from--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" The bright look faded from her eyes. "Well, -I'm glad, then, that some one sent you to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw his mistake, and grieved for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to come," he stammered. "I've been -intending to come, Elizabeth, anyway, and--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt he was only making the matter worse, and -he hated himself for his awkwardness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she was saying, "sit down then, and tell me -whom this fortunate message is from."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd never guess," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll not try. Tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta!" she repeated. "Where did you see Gusta?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In prison."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for? Tell me! Why don't you tell me, -Gordon? Why do you sit there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes flashed a reproach at him--and he smiled. -He was wholly at ease now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sneered out the word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth had fallen back in her chair with an -expression of pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Gordon!" she said with a shudder. "Isn't it -horrible, horrible!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Horrible!" he echoed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaned forward earnestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said slowly. "They may electrocute him -though--to use their barbarous word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now Gusta's in prison!" Elizabeth went on, -forgetting Archie. "But her message! You haven't -given me her message!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott waited a moment, perhaps in his inability -to forego the theatrical possibilities of the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She wants you--to come to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth stared at him blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To come to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In prison?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her brows contracted, her eyes winked rapidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Gordon, how--how can I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how am I to do it, Gordon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know yet," he said. "Whatever you tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you must tell her something; you must make -her understand. It won't do for you to hurt the poor -girl's feelings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll just say that I delivered her message and -that you wouldn't come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Gordon! How could you be so cruel? You -certainly would not be so heartless as to say I -</span><em class="italics">wouldn't</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, that you </span><em class="italics">couldn't</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Elizabeth," he said, "it isn't my predicament. -It's your predicament."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He leaned back in his chair comfortably, in an -attitude of irresponsibility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can you sit there," Elizabeth said, "and leave -it all to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she laughed,--and was grave again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is a prison like, Gordon? Is it really such -an awful place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, turning rather lazily toward the -fire, "it's nothing like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You get in prison once and see," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were they such bad faces?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no! such poor, pale, pathetic faces! Just like -a page from a Russian novel!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The memory brought pain to her eyes, and she -suffered a moment. Then she sat erect and folded her -hands with determination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We might as well face it, Gordon, of course. I -just can't go; you see that, don't you? What shall -we do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might try your Organized Charities." His -eyes twinkled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ashamed! Of the Organized Charities?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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 </span><em class="italics">forget</em><span> 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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just can't go, Gordon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well! Well! Well!" he cried. "What grave -questions have you two been deciding this time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me," he said, mocking her gravity. "It must -have been serious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was," said Elizabeth soberly. "It was--the murder!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marriott here doesn't join you in that wish, I -know," said Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No? Why not?" asked Modderwell. "Surely he--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's going to defend the murderer." Eades spoke -in a tone that had a sting for Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish he hadn't undertaken the task," said Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure it must be most disagreeable," said Mrs. Ward, -feeling that she must say something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you wish it?" said Marriott, suddenly -turning almost savagely on Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you have a criminal practice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but on the other side!" said Modderwell. "And -we all expect so much better things of Mr. Marriott."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't trouble yourselves about me!" said -Marriott. "I'm sure I prefer my side of the case to -Eades's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The atmosphere was surcharged with bitterness. -Mrs. Ward gave a sidelong glance of pain, deprecating -such a </span><em class="italics">contretemps</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I'm going to try to save him," Marriott was -forging on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure that Gordon's task isn't more disagreeable -than mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yours?" Mrs. Ward turned toward her daughter, -dreading things even worse now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied Elizabeth, looking about in pleasure -at the surprise she had created.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, what problem have you?" asked Modderwell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been sent for--to come to the prison to see--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>!" said Modderwell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades started suddenly forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Elizabeth calmly, enjoying the situation, -"his sister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His sister!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she turned to her mother. "You know, dear; -Gusta. She's been arrested."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The idea!" Mrs. Ward went on. "Why, I had no -notion he was </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> brother. To think of our harboring -such people!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you sent the reply her assurance deserved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Elizabeth in a bird-like tone, "I didn't. -What would you do, Mr. Eades?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course you could not go to a prison," -replied Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you could, couldn't you? And you do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only when necessary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you do, Mr. Modderwell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only professionally," said Modderwell solemnly, -for once remembering his clerical dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's entirely different," said Modderwell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You certainly don't think that a proper place for -her to go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't think you'd willingly elect to go -among policemen," said Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The newspaper men would be there," said Eades, -"you may be sure of that, and the publicity--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the word "publicity" Mrs. Ward cringed with -genuine alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you find publicity so annoying?" asked Elizabeth, -smiling on the three men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all looked up expectantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"--to go," she concluded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id30"><span class="large">X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you think, dear, that you allow yourself to -grow morbid, pondering over your duty so much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think I'm morbid." She would as readily -have admitted that she was superstitious as that she -was morbid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do wish you could be like other girls," she said, -speaking her thought as her habit was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am," said Elizabeth, "am I not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," Mrs. Ward qualified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In all except one thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Ward looked her question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not getting married very fast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Mrs. Ward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth laughed for the first time that morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dear little mother, I really believe you're -anxious to get rid of me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Elizabeth!" said Mrs. Ward, lifting her eyes -and then lowering them suddenly, in her reproach. -"How can you say such a thing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But never mind," Elizabeth went on:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'If no one ever marries me I sha'n't mind very much;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I shall buy a squirrel in a cage and a little rabbit hutch.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I shall have a cottage in a wood, and a pony all my own,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a little lamb quite clean and tame that I can take to town.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when I'm getting really old--at twenty-eight or nine--</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I shall buy a little orphan girl and bring her up as mine."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She smiled as she finished her quotation, and then -suddenly sobered as she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm twenty-seven already!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who wrote that?" asked Mrs. Ward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alma-Tadema."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! I thought Mr. Marriott might have done it. -It's certainly very silly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nora had brought her breakfast, and the action -recalled Gusta to Elizabeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did papa say--about my going to the prison?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said," Mrs. Ward began gladly, "that, of -course, we all felt very sorry for Gusta, but that you -couldn't go </span><em class="italics">there</em><span>. 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a good girl now," Mrs. Ward added in the -hope of pressing her advantage home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth gave a little start of irritability.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you wouldn't talk to me in that way, mama. -I'm not a child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely your father knows best, dear," the -mother insisted, "more than--we do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not necessarily," said Elizabeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why! How can you say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward, -who bowed to all authority as a part of her religion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Papa takes merely the conventional view," Elizabeth -went on, "and the conventional view is taken -without thought."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Their view is conventional," said Elizabeth, "and -proper." She gave a little curl of her lip as she spoke -this last word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm sure, dear, that we all wish to be proper, -and Mr. Modderwell and Mr. Eades--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Don't quote those two men to me! Two -such prigs, such Pharisees, I never saw!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Ward looked at her daughter in a new horror. -"Why, Elizabeth! I'm surprised--I thought that -Mr. Eades especially--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Ward ventured no further just then, but -presently resumed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think what people would say!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, mother! Please don't use that argument. I -have often told you that I don't care at all what -people say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just like us, indeed!" Mrs. Ward repeated. "You -are certainly the most astonishing girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the excitement?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick, to his mother's disappointment, only laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want to go there for? Some of your -friends been run in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Elizabeth calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's too bad! Why don't you have Eades let 'em -out,--you certainly have a swell pull with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have just had Mr. Eades's opinion from mama."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is your friend?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gusta."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that girl that used to work for us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, mother's right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Ward looked her gratitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, you can't go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had risen from the table, and Elizabeth's tone -impressed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here," he said peremptorily. "You just can't -go there, that's all there is about it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you can't. It wouldn't do, it wouldn't be -the thing; you ought to know that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why?" Elizabeth persisted. "I want a reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say you seriously consider it?" -asked Dick in real alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick suddenly grew excited, his eyes flamed, and he -was very red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Bess," he said. "You just can't, that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't I?" she said, and she gave a little laugh. It -was not her usual pleasant laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth rose from the table calmly, went out of -the room, and Dick, after a hesitant moment, ran after her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bess! Bess!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was quite beside himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem greatly excited," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made a great effort, controlled himself, and, still -holding her, began to plead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't go, Bess!" he said. "Please don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why--</span><em class="italics">why</em><span>?" she insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I say so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Humph!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I ask it. Please don't; do it for me, this -once. You'll be sorry if you do. Please don't go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes were full of the plea he was incoherently -stammering. He was greatly moved, greatly agitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a sudden strange wild expression in his -face, his lips were slightly parted. The moments were -flying, and he must be off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Bess," he said, "for God's sake, don't go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can be the matter with Dick?" said Elizabeth. -"I never saw him so excited before. He seemed--" She -paused, and bit her lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id31"><span class="large">XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That conscience of yours, Bess--" he began, -drawing down the lid of his desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know, but I can't help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you decide at last to go?" asked Ward, as -they walked rapidly along in the crowded street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"--just to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth gave a little laugh at this not very -illuminating explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, "and as a first resort, as a constant, -never-failing resort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave his arm a little squeeze, and he pressed her -hand to his side in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know where it is?" Elizabeth asked presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, I was there once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When that boy of mine was arrested--Graves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I remember."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder," he said after a pause, and he paused -again at the question he seemed to fear--"whatever -became of him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take yez to the front office," he said, "and let -yez speak to the inspector himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just step right in," said the matron, standing -politely aside. And Elizabeth drew a deep breath and -took the step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's sat that way ever since she came," the matron -whispered. "She hasn't slep' a wink, nor e't a mouthful."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-79"> -<span id="she-s-sat-that-way-ever-since-she-came"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""She's sat that way ever since she came"" src="images/img-432.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"She's sat that way ever since she came"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta moved, looked up, made sure, and then -suddenly rose and came toward her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew you'd come, Miss Elizabeth," the girl said, -with a relief that compromised the certainty she had -just expressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Gusta, "thank you, I--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say you believe me!" she insisted, and Elizabeth, -half in fear, as though to pacify a maniac, nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, of course, Gusta."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you know I'm just as good as I ever was, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tears dried suddenly in Gusta's blue eyes. She -spoke fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She squeezed Elizabeth's hand almost maliciously -and Elizabeth winced with pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could tell you something," she said significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wonder gathered in Elizabeth's eyes. Her heart -was beating rapidly, she could feel it throbbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know why I sent for you--what I had to -tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't, don't, Gusta," Elizabeth pleaded, "don't cry, -dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, dear, there, you mustn't cry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then presently:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me what I can do to help you. I want to help you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta sobbed a moment longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, there is nothing," she said. "I just -wanted you. I wanted some one--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand," said Elizabeth. She did -understand many things now that made life clearer, if -sadder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted you to tell my poor old mother," said -Gusta. "That's all--that's what I had to tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gusta was held for a week; then released.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id32"><span class="large">XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll fix you up swell, Dutch, so's they'll have to -acquit you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the cells came laughter. The prisoners began -to josh Blanco--it was one of their few pastimes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't stand for one of them gilly hair-cuts, Dutch," -cried Billy Whee, a porch-climber. "It'll be a fritzer, -sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he'll make your knob look like a mop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheese it," cried the voices. They had grown -tired of O'Grady's boasting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Dixie</em><span>:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I wish there were no prisons,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>I do, I does--'cause why?--</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>This old treadmill makes me feel ill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I only pinch my belly for to fill,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' me 'ands,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' me dukes,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' me clawrs,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Me mud hooks."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, horrible!" she exclaimed. "But surely, you -can tell the jury--surely they will sympathize."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had shaken his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because," said Marriott, "the rules of evidence are -designed to keep out the truth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But can't Archie tell it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't dare to let him take the stand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because he'll be convicted if he does."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if he doesn't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The same result--he'll be convicted. He's -convicted now--the mob has already done that; the trial -is only a conventional formality."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What mob?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades had announced that Archie would be tried -for the murder of Kouka, and Elizabeth had been impressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wasn't that rather fine in him?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Marriott, "and very clever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Clever?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He means to try him for the murder of Kouka, and -convict him of the murder of Margaret Flanagan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"An' I wish there were no bobbies,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>I do, I does--'cause why?--</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>This oakum pickin' gives me such a lickin',</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But still I likes to do a bit o' nickin',</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' me 'ands,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' me dukes,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Wi' me clawrs,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Me mud hooks."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The last words of the song were punctuated by the -clanging of the bolts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Koerner!" called out Danner's voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So long, Archie! Good luck to ye!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good luck!" came the chorus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fine day," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id33"><span class="large">XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back there! Get back, I tell you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you sleep last night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretty well," said Archie as politely as possible, the -occasion seeming to require those conventionalities of -which he was so very uncertain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we'll soon be at it now," said Marriott, thinking, -however, of his own wretched night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The case of the State </span><em class="italics">versus</em><span> Archie Koerner," said -Glassford, reading from his docket. He glanced over -his gold glasses at Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you ready for trial, Mr. Marriott?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are ready, your Honor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'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.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, in a lower voice, as if the real business -were now to begin, he called:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"William C. McGiffert."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. McGiffert, have you any conscientious scruples -against capital punishment?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Marriott, the court is waiting," said Glassford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If your Honor will indulge us a moment." Then -Marriott whispered to Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. McGee," said Marriott, rising, "what business -are you in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oi'm retired, sor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you ever on the police force?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sor," said McGee uneasily, "Oi wor wance, -sor--yes, sor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up now with a nonchalant air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long were you on the force?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twinty-wan years, sor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll not adjourn to-night until we have a jury!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott had one peremptory challenge left, and -eleven men had been accepted. It was now a matter -of luck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"George Holden," called the clerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is your occupation, Mr. Holden?" asked Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Machinist."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The formal questions were put and answered to -Eades's satisfaction; then came the real question:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you opposed to capital punishment?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are your scruples conscientious ones?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And not to be overcome?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are not to be overcome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't want to sit on this jury, do you?" -demanded Glassford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would interfere with your business, wouldn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It wouldn't? You earn good wages, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm out of a job now, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, are your scruples such that you can't lay -them aside long enough to do your duty as a citizen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Holden flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't lay them aside, no; but it doesn't follow that -I can't do my duty as a citizen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand perfectly, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what do you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The atmosphere became tense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But assuming you had taken an oath, would you -rather break that oath than discharge your duty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't take such an oath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you place your private opinions above the -law, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In this instance, I do. I don't believe in that law, -and I won't help enforce it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean,"--Glassford was plainly angry--"that -you wouldn't take an oath to enforce a law you didn't -believe in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just what I mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We submit a challenge for cause," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allowed," Glassford snapped. "We don't want -such men as you on juries."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Samuel Walker," called Gard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You believe that the laws should be executed and -upheld?" said Eades in an insinuating tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heh?" said the old man, leaning forward with an -open palm behind his hairy ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades repeated the question and the fellow nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment later he saw his mistake. Gard was calling -a name he knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"William A. Broadwell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you could lay aside those opinions and reach a -conclusion based purely on evidence, of course, -Mr. Broadwell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, sir," said Broadwell, with an unctuous -smile that deprecated the idea of his being influenced in -any but the legitimate way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are thoroughly satisfied with Mr. Broadwell, -your Honor," said Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One minute, Mr. Broadwell," began Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Broadwell, you say you read the accounts of -the tragedy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you read all of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Read the report of the evidence given on the -preliminary hearing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Read the editorials in the </span><em class="italics">Courier</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You respect its opinions?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do, yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your pastor preached a sermon on this case, did -he not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He made applications of it in an illustrative way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite edifying, of course?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott knew he had made a mistake, but the impulse -to have this fling had been irresistible. Broadwell -bowed coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And all these things influenced you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. And on them you have formed an opinion -respecting the guilt or innocence of this young man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Broadwell cast a hasty sidelong glance at Glassford, -as if this had gone quite far enough, but he said patiently:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it would require evidence to remove that opinion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume it would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know it would, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We submit a challenge for cause, your Honor," -said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glassford turned to Broadwell with an air that told -how speedily he would make an end of this business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have talked with none of the witnesses, Mr. Broadwell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, sir," said Broadwell, smiling at the absurdity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The accounts you read were not stenographic reports -of the evidence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir; abstracts, rather, I should say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. Were the conclusions you came to opinions, -or mere impressions?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mere impressions I should say, your Honor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are not to be dignified by the name of opinions?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hardly, your Honor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, your Honor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glassford turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glassford consulted his notes; the peremptory -challenges were all exhausted now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The jury will rise and be sworn," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gard was repeating the oath:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'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.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Broadwell bowed, as if for the jury; Marriott almost -expected him to say "Amen."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id34"><span class="large">XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id35"><span class="large">XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Archie, my boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's that man?" Marriott whispered to Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That? That's old Jimmy Ball, the deputy warden -at the pen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you suppose--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's here to knock, that's what. He's here to rap -ag'in me, the old--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marriott just then had no time to learn the -significance of this strange presence. Eades was calling -a witness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Detective Quinn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may now state, Mr. Quinn, when you next saw -the defendant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Friday morning before the Flanagan murder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you meet him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In Kentucky Street near Cherokee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was he alone, or was some one with him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another man was with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was that other man--if you know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was an old-timer; they call him Dad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by an 'old-timer'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An old-time thief--an ex-convict."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well. Now tell the jury what you did--if anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I knowed Koerner was just back from the -pen, and we got to talking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't just remember. We chewed the rag a little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades scowled and hitched up his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he say anything about Kouka?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on!" Marriott shouted. "We object! You -know perfectly well you can't lead the witness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What further, if anything, was said?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Quinn, who had understood. "Well, he -asked me where Kouka was. You see he had it in for Kouka."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" cried Marriott. "Not that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just tell what he said about Kouka," Eades continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was trying to," said Quinn, as if hurt by Marriott's -interruption. "Ever since Kouka sent him up -for--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now look here!" Marriott cried, "this has gone far -enough. Mr. Eades knows--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Quinn," said Eades in a low, almost confidential -tone, "confine yourself to the questions, please. -Answer the last question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quinn, flashing surly and reproachful glances at -Marriott, replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he asked about Kouka, where he was and all -that, and he said, says he, 'I'm going to get him!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jury was listening intently. Even Glassford -cocked his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked him what he meant, and he said he had it -in for Kouka and was going to croak him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, listen to that, will you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sh!" said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie dropped back, and Marriott heard him muttering -under his breath, marveling at Quinn's effrontery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell the jury what further, if anything, was said," -Eades was saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing much," said Quinn; "that was about all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you do after that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I placed him under arrest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I didn't think it was safe for him to be -around--feeling that way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Quinn," said Eades, looking up, "when did you -next see Koerner--if at all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the next Tuesday after that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the C. and M. railroad yards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was with you, if any one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why were you chasing them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We had orders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From whom?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Inspector McFee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What were those orders?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, there had been a report of that Flanagan -job--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop!" Marriott shouted. "We object."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Object!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing, his -figure tense with protest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I object! We might as well fight this thing out -right here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is your objection?" asked Glassford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades colored and was about to reply, but Marriott -would not yield.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say that such tactics are unworthy of counsel; -they would be unworthy of the veriest pettifogger!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades flushed angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to charge--" he challenged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Glassford warned them. -"Address yourselves to the Court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything further, Mr. Marriott?" asked Glassford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott had a momentary rage at this impersonation -of the vengeful state sitting before him, and -exclaimed with disgust:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I guess not."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id36"><span class="large">XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he went up in the swiftly-ascending elevator, the -old man who operated it gave him that same look, and -then observed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something's in the air to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, thought Marriott, something is in the air. But what?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon it's going to storm," the white-headed -veteran of the great war went on. "My rheumatiz -hurts like hell this morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon it's the January thaw," the old fellow -jabbered on, his mind never rising above the mere -physical manifestations of nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Call Henry Griscom," said Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew old Jimmy Ball had something framed up. -Great God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd made way, and the tall, lank form of the -deputy warden shambled into the court-room. A man -was chained to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great God!" Archie was chattering; "he's going -to split on me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie fixed his eyes on the man in a steady, -intense blaze; Marriott heard him cursing horribly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The snitch!" he said finally, and then was silent, as -if he had put his whole contempt into that one word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is he?" Marriott whispered quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Eades had begun his examination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the penitentiary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long have you been there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Seventeen years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your sentence is for how long?" Eades continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's eyes drooped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Life." The word fell in a hollow silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do you know this man here--Archie Koerner?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The convict, as if by an effort, raised his eyes to -Archie, dropped them hastily and nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you say?" said Eades. "You must speak up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you know him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the pen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just tell the jury," urged Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The convict stiffly raised his bony hand to his blue -lips to stifle the cough in which lay his only hope of -release.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't just--" He stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just give Koerner's exact words," urged Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he said he had it in for Kouka, and was -going to croak him when he got home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he mean by 'croak,' if you know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill him. He said he was a dead shot--he'd learned -it in the army."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many times did you talk with him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, lots of times--every time we got a chance. -Sometimes in the bolt shop, sometimes in the hall when -we had permits."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What else, if anything, did he say about Kouka?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he said Kouka'd been laggin' him, and he was -goin' to get him. He talked about it pretty much all -the time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's about all, yes, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take the witness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One moment, Griscom," said Marriott, "I'd like to -ask you a few questions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To hide his chagrin, Marriott wiped his mouth with -his handkerchief, leaned over and consulted his notes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A life is a long time, isn't it, Griscom?" he -resumed, gently now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes." Griscom's chin fell to his breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the penitentiary is not a good place to be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Griscom looked up with the first flash of real spirit -he had displayed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't send a dog there, Mr. Marriott!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Marriott, "and you'd like to get out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've applied for a pardon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Griscom hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't think it necessary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you think it necessary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well--I didn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it because you didn't think Archie was in -earnest--because his words were not serious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't think it necessary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott wondered whether to press him further--he -was on dangerous ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To whom did you first mention them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the deputy warden."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This man here?" Marriott waved his hand at Ball -with a contempt he was not at all careful to conceal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When was that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, about a month ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After Kouka's death?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades was on his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no evidence here that Ball went to the -witness," he cried. He was angry; his face was very red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let the witness answer," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The question is improper," said Glassford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it not a fact, Griscom, that Ball made you some -promise to induce you to testify as you have?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it isn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Swear Uri Marsh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will do," said Eades. "Now tell us, Mr. Marsh, -what, if anything, Koerner said to Detective -Quinn in your presence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just give his words."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His words? Well, sir, he said he was going to kill -that fellow--that detective--what's his name? You -know his name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you answer or go to jail," said Glassford, with -the most impressive sternness he could command.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Marriott said again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked you where you had been staying since you -came to town and who provided for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Sheriff, take the witness to jail! And if this -demonstration does not instantly cease, clear the courtroom!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The </span><em class="italics">contretemps</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they were dragging the old man past Archie, his -feet scuffling and dragging like those of a paralytic, -Archie spoke:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Dad!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his tone were all disappointment and reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id37"><span class="large">XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Archie!" he said, forcing a cheerful tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie started, pushed back his chair, drew his hand -across his mouth to wipe away the crumbs, and thrust -it through the bars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let me keep you from your supper," said -Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie smiled a wan smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," he said. "It isn't much of a -supper, and I ain't exactly hungry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie grasped the bars above his head and leaned -his breast against the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what do you think of it, Mr. Marriott?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know, Archie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Looks as if I was the fall guy all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott bit his lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have to put in our evidence in the morning, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we must decide whether you're going on the -stand or not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll leave it to you, Mr. Marriott."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott thought a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think about it?" he asked presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. You see, I've got a record."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but they already know you've been in prison."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure, but my taking the stand would make the rap -harder. That fellow Eades would tear me to pieces."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott was silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean Broadwell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Marriott, "but I can imagine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he changed his tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I do. And why can't you tell them -so?" Marriott was enthusiastic with his new hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was an appeal that touched Marriott, and yet he -felt powerless to make the boy see how deeply it -touched him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie spread his hands wide to show the hopelessness -of it all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I think you'd better try, anyhow. Will you -think it over?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id38"><span class="large">XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get back there, damn you! Get back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They tried to get at me!" he repeated, in yet -another tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Doctor Bitner, the jail physician, had come -with a tumbler half-full of whisky and water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Archie," he said, "try a sip of this. You'll -be all right in a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know, my boy, that we must begin. It's -up to us now. Can you take the stand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! No!" Archie shook his head with emphasis. -"I can't! I can't! That fellow Eades would tear me -to pieces!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Eades would tear me to pieces."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, Gordon," called Glassford, who had -finished his cigar, "we can't wait any longer."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never heard you do better, Gordon," said Eades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott thanked him. But then Eades could -always be depended on to do the correct thing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, he had finished; this was all; soon it would be -over and he would know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At five o'clock the jury stumbled out of the box and -entered the little room to the left.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id39"><span class="large">XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! no! no! no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mercy!" they said. "Did he show that old woman -any mercy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He isn't being triedt for der old woman," said -Reder. "Dot's what the chudge saidt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then. Did he show Kouka any mercy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah!" shouted Reder. "Did Kouka show him any?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Kouka"--they insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ach</em><span>! To hell mit all o' you!" cried Reder, and -began to stalk the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Dutch dog!" said one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The stubborn brute!" grumbled another. "Keeping -us all up here, and making us lose our sleep!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you," said another, "the jury system ought to -be changed, so's a majority would rule!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great God!" shouted Duncan irritably. "Can't -some of you make him stop that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Church got up and gave Osgood's chair a rude kick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh?" Osgood started up, staring about wildly. -Then he came to his senses, looked around, understood, -fell back and went to sleep again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Reder," he said, "I don't see how you can -assume the position you do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's no use, I tol' you; no use!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me why--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't </span><em class="italics">vant</em><span> to have him killedt, I tol' you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it isn't killing; it isn't the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah! Nonsense!" roared Reder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the law."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't gare for der law. We say he don't die--he -don't die den, ain't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it's the </span><em class="italics">law</em><span>!" protested Broadwell, thinking to -add new stress to his argument by placing new stress -on the word. "How can we do otherwise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How? Chust by saying not guildy, dot's how."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how can we do that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Chust </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> it, dot's how!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it's the law,--the </span><em class="italics">law</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damn der </span><em class="italics">law</em><span>!" roared Reder, resuming his walk. -And Broadwell stood looking at him, in horror, as if -he had blasphemed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence again, save for Osgood's snoring. -Then suddenly, no one knew how, the argument broke -out anew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do we know?" some one was saying. It was -Grey; his conviction was shaken again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Know?" said Church. "Don't we know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well--I don't know, only--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, only."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ain't going back on us now, I hope?",</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but--" Grey shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you heard what the judge said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They could always appeal to what the judge had -said, as if he spoke with some authority that was above -all others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What'd he say?" asked Grey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why--he said--what was that there word now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What word?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That word he used--refer--no that wasn't it, let's see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Infer?" suggested Broadwell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure! That's it! Infer! He said infer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By God! I guess that's right! He did say that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Course," Church went on triumphantly. "Infer! -He said infer, and that means we can infer it, don't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's dot you saidt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get him some water,--here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chisholm punched young Menard; he got up, and -pushed the big white porcelain water pitcher across -the table. But Reder waved it aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nefer mind," he said. "What was dot you vas -sayin' a minute back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Mr. Reder, we said the judge said we could -infer. Don't you remember?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Church looked into his face hopefully, and waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Broadwell got slowly to his feet, and moved toward -the little group deliberately, importantly, as if he alone -could explain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, have my chair, Mr. Reder," said Broadwell -with intense politeness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, nefer mind," said Reder, afraid to move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides," Church broke in, "that old woman said -he </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> the fellow, down at the police station--it was -in the paper, don't you remember?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but the judge said we wasn't to pay attention -to anything like that," said Grey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, but he said we could infer, didn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen, shall we not try another ballot?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Menard got up wearily, his hat in readiness again. -The jurors began rummaging among the scraps for -ballots.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A street-car was just scraping around the curve at -the corner, its wheels sending out a shrill, grinding -noise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great heavens!" exclaimed McCann, taking out his -watch, "it's five thirty! Morning! We've been here -all night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id40"><span class="large">XX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "have you agreed -upon a verdict?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have, your Honor." Broadwell was rising in -his place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'--guilty as charged in the indictment'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen of the jury," said the clerk, folding the -paper in his formal manner, "is this your verdict?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is," said Broadwell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So say you all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence. After a while Marriott controlled -himself and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your Honor, we demand a poll of the jury."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly, one after another, the clerk called the names, -and one after another the jurors rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this your verdict?" asked the clerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," thought Marriott as each one rose, "perhaps -even now, one will relent, one will change--one--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is," each man answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Glassford was speaking again--the everlasting -formalities, mocking the very sense of things, thanking -the jury, congratulating them, discharging them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id41"><span class="large">XXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whenever you're ready, Dutch, we'll go back. Of -course--no particular hurry, but when you're ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archie wondered what Danner was up to now; usually -he ordered them about like brutes, with curses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll be wanting a bite of breakfast," Danner was -saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any time," he said to Danner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they got up and walked away, through the -gray morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the jail, Danner instantly unlocked the handcuffs, -and as he jostled Archie a little in opening the door, he -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, excuse me, Dutch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What had got into Danner, anyway? Inside he -wondered more. Danner said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Danner put up his big hand and whispered in -Archie's ear:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll see the cook and get her to sneak in a little -cream and sugar for your coffee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was the rap, the dip?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, penny weightin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the word, Archie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That mouthpiece of yours 'll spring you yet," some -one said, "down below."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be gime, me boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any of youse got the makin's?" he called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly, all down the corridor on both sides, the -cells' voices rang:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here! Here! Archie! Here, have mine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Marriott gave me a whole box yesterday, but -I smoked 'em all up in the night!" he said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxii"><span class="large">XXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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 -</span><em class="italics">Courier</em><span>, 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 </span><em class="italics">Post</em><span>--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 </span><em class="italics">Post</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We might as well do it now and have it over with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he sent the sheriff for Archie, and the bailiff -for a calendar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Koerner, you may stand up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you anything to say why the sentence of this -court should not be passed upon you?" he asked presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glassford paused, removed his glasses, put them on -again; and looked out of the window as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He clasped the desk before him tightly with his -hands; his lips were pale. Then he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With an air of relief, Glassford turned, and wrote -in his docket. On his broad, shining forehead drops -of perspiration were glistening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The prisoner will be remanded," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxiii"><span class="large">XXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Howdy, Dan," she said, holding out her gloved hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Jane," he said. "When'd you come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said a little whisky, Dan!" she spoke with some -of her old imperiousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't any more whisky in town," he said, -"I've drunk it all up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed as the second glove came off with a -final jerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard you'd been hitting the pots. Isn't it a -shame! The poor kid! I heard it's a kangaroo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs made no comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was a raw one, too, wasn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he's a young Dutchman--he filled in with -the mob several moons back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was the rap?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I couldn't get hip to; Mason wasn't--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not that time; they had him wrong; but you -know what them elbows are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They must have rapped hard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jane, her chin in her hands, suddenly became intent, -looking straight into Gibbs's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dan, that's what I want to get wise to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter, Jane?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never said a word when you flew me the kite to -keep under cover that time he plugged Moon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you were good then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, looking up for approval, "I was, -wasn't I? But this time--I won't stand for it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm out o' this," said Gibbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"McFee!" said Gibbs, starting at the name of the -inspector. "McFee! Have you been to him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was it you thought they had framed up?" -asked Gibbs innocently. "I can't follow you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, now, Dan," she said, drawing away from the -table with a sneer, "don't you try to whip-saw me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, on the dead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was it? Why, some moll, of course; some tommy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs leaned back and laughed; he laughed because -he saw that this was simply woman's jealousy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know I'm not wrong. I went to see McFee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he say?" asked Gibbs, with the interest -in anything this lord that stood between him and the -upper world might say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, he said he wouldn't say nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he say you could stay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you mustn't do any work here." Gibbs spoke -now with his own authority, reinforcing that of the -detective.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As if you don't know! What do you want to string -me for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs looked at her with a perfectly blank face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, have it your way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she said presently, with some doubt in her -mind, "if you don't know and just to prove to you -that I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> know, it's the sister of that young Koerner!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've passed; the nut college for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll stay and see, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jane, you're bug house," said Gibbs quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Somehow, at the words, she bowed her head on her -hands and wept; the black ribbon on her hat shook -with her sobbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She broke off suddenly and exclaimed irrelevantly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The tommy buster!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he protested, "not Curly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure!" she sneered, turning away in disgust of his -doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What made you stand for it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter?" she demanded suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw that the circumstances altered the case in -Gibbs's eyes, and she rather repented having told.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said he didn't want me working; he said he -could support me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could get more than he could."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you going to do now?" Gibbs asked presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to stay here in town till I see this woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you can't do any work here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to do any work, I tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How'll you live?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, I've heard--what's this his name is now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eades."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What kind is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's a swell lobster."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They tell me he's strong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's the limit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes lighted up suddenly and she sat upright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I'll go see him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jane," he said severely, "you let him alone; you hear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by, Dan. Give my love to Kate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she turned and was gone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxiv"><span class="large">XXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bess!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dick!" she said, for some reason speaking in a -whisper. "What's the matter? Tell me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dick!" she said, going to him, "what is it? Tell me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took him by the shoulders and gave him a little -shake. He continued to rock back and forth and to -moan;</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my God!" he said presently. "What am I going to do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth gathered herself for one of those ordeals -which, in all families, there is one stronger than the -rest to meet and deal with.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm ruined!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bess," he began fearfully, and his head dropped -again. "Bess"--his voice was very strange--"it's--the--bank."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bank!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "Oh, Dick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't cry, Dick; they'll hear you down-stairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made an effort to control himself, and Elizabeth -suddenly remembered that he had told her nothing at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean," she asked, "by the bank?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean," he said without uncovering his face, and -his hands muffled his words, "that I'm--into it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much?" she forced herself to ask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's big. Several--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hundreds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hundreds?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated, and then,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thousands," he said, tearing the word from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many thousands?" she asked, when she could -find the courage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again he cowered before the truth. She grew impatient.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, they'll send me to the penitentiary--the -penitentiary--the penitentiary!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The word struck Elizabeth; her gray eyes began to fill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much, Dick?" she asked gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five--a--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much more?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twice as much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ten, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said nothing; he ceased sobbing. Then suddenly -he looked up and met her glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bess," he said, "it's twenty-three thousand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does Mr. Hunter know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When did he find out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This morning. He called me in this afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does any one else know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick hung his head and began to fumble his watch-chain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who, Dick?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One other man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who? Tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eades."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bess," he said, "Eades will have no mercy on me. -You know that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She admitted it with a slow nod of her head, her -eyes still closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something must be done. Father--he must be told. -Will--will you tell him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you tell him, Bess?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She moved, opened her eyes slowly, wearily, and sighed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She got up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not going to tell him now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stretched out a hand as if to detain her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you, Betsy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cheer and warmth of his tone smote her; again -her eyes closed in pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear," she said, "I have something to tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The delicious sensation left him instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you bear some bad news--some bad, bad news?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some bad news--some evil news. Something very--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Horrible!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be strong, dear, and brave; it's going to hurt you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, Bess," he said, sitting up now, his man's -armor on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's about Dick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Dick--and the bank!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh-h!" he groaned, and, in his knowledge of his -own world, he knew it all.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxv"><span class="large">XXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Ah, Mr. Ward, ah! Heh! Won't you sit down, -sir, won't you sit down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you sit down, Mr. Ward, won't you sit down, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume, Mr. Hunter," Ward began, "that you -imagined the object of my visit when I telephoned you -an hour ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, sir, yes, Mr. Ward. You came to see me -about that boy of yours!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly," said Ward, and he felt his cheek flush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bad boy, that, Mr. Ward," said Hunter in his -squeaking voice, grinning toothlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" squeaked Hunter with a rising inflection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does the shortage amount to?" Ward leaned -toward him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In round numbers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," Ward was abrupt. "In dollars and cents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hunter pursed his lips. Ward's last words seemed -to stimulate his thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That, of course," said Hunter with the effect of an -afterthought, "is the principal sum. The interest--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mind, sir, if I smoke?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the least, Mr. Ward, not in the least, sir; -delighted to have you. Make yourself perfectly at -home, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waved his long, thin, transparent hand grandly -and hospitably at Ward, and smiled his toothless smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you'd smoke, Mr. Hunter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," thought Ward, "I know why you limit yourself -to one, and I hope this one will make you sick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Ward had smoked a moment, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Hunter, if I reimburse you, what assurance -can I have that there will be no prosecution?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For ten thousand, yes--not for twenty-four."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right!" said Hunter, taken somewhat aback. -Then they were silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What assurance can you give me, Mr. Hunter?" He -took the cigar from his lips and looked directly at -Hunter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm afraid, Mr. Ward, that that has passed -out of my hands. You see--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You told Eades; yes, I know!" Ward was angry, -but he realized the necessity for holding his temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you do that, Mr. Hunter, if I may ask? -What did you expect to gain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hunter made the queer noise in his throat and then -he stammered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might have waited, it seems to me, Mr. Hunter," -he said. "You might have had some mercy on -the boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ward did not see the peculiar smile that played on -Hunter's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I remember, Mr. Ward, you had a young man in -your employ once, who--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ward could scarcely repress a groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know, I know," he hastened to confess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I hope, Mr. Hunter, that this affair will never -cause you the sorrow and regret--yes, the remorse--that -that has caused me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But our duty, Mr. Ward. We must do our -duty--heh--heh--as citizens, remember."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Entertaining! Ward could have seized the wizened -pipe of the old man and throttled him there in his -shabby green-baize chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you anything to suggest?" asked Ward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old banker pondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to help you in your difficulty, -Mr. Ward," he said. "I--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ward waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The banker thought a moment and said finally:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall have an interview with Mr. Eades in the -morning, communicating the result to you at eleven -o'clock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ward rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxvi"><span class="large">XXVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lawyer?" her father had said. "He could do -nothing--in a case like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose not," Elizabeth had said. "Besides, it -would only place the facts in the possession of one -more person."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We might consult Gordon Marriott. He would -sympathize--and help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that might do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not yet," she had said, "Not till I've tried my -plan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your plan? What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To see John Eades--for me to see John Eades."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had hung her head--she could not help it, and -her father had shown some indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for worlds!" he had said. "Not for worlds!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I'm going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! It wouldn't be fitting!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I'm going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I'll go along."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'll go alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had protested, of course, but his very next words -showed that he was ready to give in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When shall you go?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now. There isn't much time. The grand jury--what -is it the grand jury does?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It sits next week, and Eades will lay the case -before it then--unless--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless I can stop him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind about me, papa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she had hastened away--and here she was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me if I kept you waiting,"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know what brings me here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came," she said, "to ask a favor--a very great -favor. Will you grant it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaned forward slightly, but with a latent -intensity that showed all her eagerness and concern. He -was deeply troubled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you to let my brother go," she said,</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 64%" id="figure-80"> -<span id="i-want-you-to-let-my-brother-go-she-said"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""I want you to let my brother go," she said" src="images/img-550.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"I want you to let my brother go," she said</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He compressed his lips, and she noted how very thin, -how resolute they were.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does not altogether rest with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she let the silence fall between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are asking me to do a great deal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades turned away in pain. It was evident that she -had said her all, and that he must speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You forget one other thing," he said presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But society has rights," he said, "and society has -placed me here to see those rights conserved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What rights?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To have the wrong-doer punished."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the innocent as well? You would punish my -mother, my father and </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>, although, of course, we -already have our punishment." She waited a moment -and then the cry was torn from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you see that merely having to come here on -such an errand is punishment enough for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you don't," he added, coming near and speaking -in a low, guarded tone, "you don't know how--I love you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then--then," she said very deliberately, "do this for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it could do any good! If I could see what good -it does!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" he exclaimed, turning to her. "What -good? What good does any of my work do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where--" he could not catch his breath--"where -did you get that idea?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eades stood and looked at her. He could do -nothing else; he could say nothing, think nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was going.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me think it over," he pleaded. "I'll think it -over to-night--I'll send you word in the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned then and went away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxvii"><span class="large">XXVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elizabeth let the note fall in her lap. A new -happiness suddenly enveloped her. She felt the relief of an -escape. The note ran:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>DEAR ELIZABETH:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your sincere</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>JOHN EADES.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Marriott knew what she had to say almost before -the first sentence had fallen from her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll not pretend to be surprised, Elizabeth," he said. -"I haven't expected it, but now I can see that it was -inevitable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked away from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth's head was drooping and the tears were -streaming down her cheeks. He pretended not to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor boy!" he went on. "Well, we must save him, -that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up at him, her gray eyes wide and their -lashes drenched in their tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How, Gordon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't know, but some way." He studied a -moment. "Eades--well, of course, he's hopeless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They won't arrest Dick?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott nodded, not knowing just what to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," consented Marriott helplessly, already -overburdened with others' cares.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is this swell guy you speak of--this banker?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curly looked at Marriott with the suspicion that was -necessarily habitual with him, but his glance softened -and he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know him myself. I never saw him--his -name's Hunt, no, Hunter, or some such thing. Know him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott's heart leaped; he struggled to control himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Course, you understand, Mr. Marriott," said Curly, -fearing he had been indiscreet, "this is all between -ourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, of course, you can depend on me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you'll help me, Dan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs made no reply, but instead smoked and blinked -at Marriott curiously. Just as Marriott's hopes were -falling, Gibbs broke the silence:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, yes, you're right. I am interested in her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if it wouldn't do that old geezer good to -take a sea-voyage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott did not like to speak, but he nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that a warm country?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's on the shores of the Mediterranean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott nodded again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, that'll do. An old banker goes there for -his health--just as if it was Hot Springs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs thought a moment longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, of course, the kid's father'll make it good, -won't he? He'll put up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hell, no!" exclaimed Gibbs. "We'll want the cash. -I'll get it of him. The fewer hands, the better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Marriott told Gibbs of Curly's request, Gibbs -shook his head decidedly and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxviii"><span class="large">XXVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Mr. Amos Hunter, accompanied by his daughter, Miss -Agnes Hunter, sailed from New York yesterday on the steamer -</span><em class="italics">King Emanuel</em><span> for Naples. Mr. Hunter goes abroad for his -health, and will spend the winter in Italy."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elizabeth looked up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That means--?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That it's settled," Ward replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She grew suddenly weak, in the sense of relief that -seemed to dissolve her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless," Ward added, and Elizabeth caught herself -and looked at her father fearfully, "Hunter should -come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But will he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some time, doubtless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, dear! Then the suspense isn't over at all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel a hundred years old," she said. "Hasn't it -been horrible?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel like a criminal myself," said Ward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he acquiesced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only," she said, "nobody ought. I've learned that, -anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you do with them?" he asked, in the -comfort of entering the realm of the abstract.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well--with the criminals."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Send us to the penitentiary, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are delightfully illogical, Betsy," he said, -trying to laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all we can be," she said. "It's the only -logical way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they were silent, for the maid entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, mama, after all, was the only one wise enough -to understand and appreciate the real significance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, there's nothing more we can do now," he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's fixed, Mr. Ward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gordon, you have done wonders. I can't thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't try," he said. "It's nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked troubled. Her brows darkened, and -then, unable to resist the impulse any longer, she asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Gordon, was it right?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" he asked, quite needlessly, as they both knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you--what we--did?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it was right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it legal?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"N-no."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" She was silent a moment. "What is it called?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know very well--our crime. I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> know the -worst. I must know just how bad I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wish to have it labeled, classified, as Doctor -Tilson would have it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe," said Marriott looking away and biting -his upper lip, "that it's called compounding a felony, or -something of that sort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent and she was silent. Then he spoke again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They disbarred poor old Billy Gale for less than that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, Gordon, just how you felt when you were--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Committing it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded her head rapidly, almost impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You just </span><em class="italics">won't</em><span> reassure me," she said, relaxing -into a hopeless attitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up in her vivid literary interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; tell me. He said everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, everything there is to say. He said, 'Good -men must not obey the laws too well.'"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxix"><span class="large">XXIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be the same thing," said Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" Elizabeth leaned forward -with a puzzled expression in her gray eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't worry about it; you can't help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Edwards's editorials were doing their -work. They had an effect on Eades, of course, because -the </span><em class="italics">Courier</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel lucky," said Archie. "I'll not have to -punish,--think so, Mr. Marriott?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've got lots of time," Marriott replied, not -knowing what else to say, "the Supreme Court doesn't sit -till fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pritchard, the poisoner, laid his slender white hand -on Archie's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good boy you've got here, Mr. Marriott," he said -jokingly, "but a trifle wild."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott laughed, and wondered how he could laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter with that man?" asked Marriott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say he has locomotor ataxia," said Beck, the -death-watch, "but he's only shamming. He's no good."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxx"><span class="large">XXX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At eight o'clock?" The words slipped from -Archie's lips as softly as his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, in the name of God," Archie suddenly whispered, -leaning toward him, his face directly in his, "do -something, Mr. Marriott! </span><em class="italics">something</em><span>! </span><em class="italics">something</em><span>! 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; </span><em class="italics">something</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So long, Mr. Marriott," said Archie, and then -turned and went back into the death-chamber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Ode to the Spring</em><span>, -played now with a pathos he had never known before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" he asked the trusty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That playing? That's young Ernsthauser. He's a -swell piano player."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May we look in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Ode</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me about that fellow," said Marriott, as they -stole away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long is he in for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's Archie taking it?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's trying to </span><em class="italics">appear</em><span> game, but he's taking it hard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hard, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, hard." Marriott looked at him sternly. "Tell -me," he emboldened himself to ask, "how can you do it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The warden's face became suddenly hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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 </span><em class="italics">Post</em><span>, 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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you stop and have dinner with me?" the -warden asked. "You can stay for the execution, too, if -you wish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he won't do anything," said the warden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha!" said Pritchard, turning his pale face slowly -about, "imported, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott? No, not this time. Well, that was good. -It was the barber come to "top" him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxi"><span class="large">XXXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"All ready, Archie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, my boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here!" said Ball. "Get on that other side of him, -Warden."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by, Archie!" they called from behind, and he -turned, swayed a little, and looked back over his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No--yes, there you are, Archie, my boy!" whispered -Ball. "There!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be quick!" he heard the warden say in a scared -voice. He was at his right side where the switch and -the indicator were.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxii"><span class="large">XXXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wonder was in his words alone; she could not -detect the uncertainty she felt would have become him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it settled?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is settled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was taken aback, but he was determined, always -determined. He could not suppose that, in the end, -she would actually refuse him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't understand," she said, almost sick at -heart. "You didn't understand that day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I thought I did. You wanted me--to let him go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And because I loved you, to prove that I loved you--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, didn't I understand you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I confess," he leaned back helplessly, "you -baffle me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but it wasn't a </span><em class="italics">bargain</em><span>," 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems inconsistent," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does it? How strange!" She said it coldly, and -slowly she took her eyes from him. They were silent -for a while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then my fate is settled--irrevocably?" he asked at -length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, irrevocably."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish," he complained, "that I understood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you did," she replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you tell me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't force me to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," he said, drawing himself up. "I beg -your pardon." These words, however, meant that the -apology should have been hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they drove home, her mother said to her:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What were you and John Eades talking about back -there in that corner?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An old subject."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was he--" Mrs. Ward was burning with a curiosity -she did not, however, like to put into words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, "he </span><em class="italics">was</em><span>. But I settled him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope you were not--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brutal?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, perhaps not that--you, of course, could not -be that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be too sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They discussed Eades as the carriage rolled along, -but their points of view could never be the same.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet, after all, dear," Mrs. Ward was saying, -"we must be just. I don't see--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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 </span><em class="italics">institution</em><span>, you know," she concluded oddly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elizabeth!" said Mrs. Ward. "That doesn't sound -quite ladylike or nice!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elizabeth laughed lightly now, in the content that -came with the new happiness that was glowing within her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxiii"><span class="large">XXXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he thought, grinding his teeth bitterly, -"they'll have to pay toll now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found Gibbs in his back room, alone, and -evidently in a gloomy mood. Gibbs stretched his hand -across the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Curly, I'm glad to see some one in luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, they never had anything on you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was that they put Dutch away on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in hell do you make of it, Dan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs said this with an air of closing the discussion, -and of having paid his tribute to Archie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibbs shook his head gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, everything's wrong. Dean's been here--now -he's pinched!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! What for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd never guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The big mitt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he down at the boob?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, we sprung him on paper. He's all broke up--you -heard about McDougall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I read it in the paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was a kangaroo, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I judged so; they settled him for the dip. How did -it come off?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know," said Curly impatiently, "the old -army game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who did it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, a little Chicago gun. You don't know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Curly, "you have had a run of bad luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought the old man had some damages coming -to him for the loss of his gimp," said Curly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">nisi prius</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Legal Bulletin</em><span>, 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So!" he cried, not opening wide the door, not -inviting Marriott in, "you gom', huh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott, "I came--to--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You lost, yah, I know dot! You lose all your cases, -huh, pretty much, aindt it so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott flamed hotly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ho!" scoffed Koerner in his tremendous voice. -"Vell! Maybe you like to lose anudder case. </span><em class="italics">Hier</em><span>! I -gif you von!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I s'pose we lose dot case, too, aindt it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Marriott thoughtfully and sadly, tapping -his hand with the paper, "we'll lose this. When -did you get it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dis morning. A deputy sheriff, he brought 'im--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he told you--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Bout de oder von? Yah, dot's so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were silent a moment and Marriott, unconsciously, -and with something of the habit of the family -solicitor, put the summons into his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vell, I bet dere be no delays in dis case, huh?" -Koerner asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marriott wondered if it were possible to make this -old man understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, Mr. Koerner," he began, "the law--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old German reared before him in mighty rage, -and he roared out from his tremendous throat:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, go to hell mit your Gott-tamned law!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he slammed the door in Marriott's face.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Legal Bulletin</em><span> -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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're in there, Mister!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, honest!" said the officious little girl, drawing -her chin in affectedly. "Cross my heart, it's so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the deputy put his shoulder to the door; -presently it gave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxiv"><span class="large">XXXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know," said Marriott, "I thought you -would be surprised to hear of John Eades's engagement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," Elizabeth said, as if she had not noticed his -hesitation, "I'm very glad--it's an appropriate match."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am thinking--do you know of what? Well, of -that night--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, suddenly, he took her hands and poured -out the unnecessary words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could see her eyes glow in the darkness; he -heard her catch her breath, and then he took her in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew her close to him, and bent his head and -kissed her lips, her eyes, her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Gordon!" she whispered, lifting her face from -his shoulder. "How very blind you were that night!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE TURN OF THE BALANCE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40398"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40398</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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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