A CLEAR CONSCIENCE BETTER THAN MONEY
“I do not understand, Pat, what made Pearson confess so meekly. He could
at least have pleaded innocent until his trial. You know sometimes things
look dark, and then a criminal can get out of it.”
“Perhaps he thinks he can get out of here.”
“Well, we will not have his trial here and now, without judge or jury;
so, Pat, you may go and see if all is right among your fellow-men.”
“I wonder if he understood what I meant to tell him all the time—what I
was going to do—when he said he could forgive once and twice, and the old
adage. I just as good as told him it would be twice, two of us, and the
third time not here, and that was the daughter; she is not here to help
get away, so there is the whole thing in a nut-shell. And the blockhead
did not get it.”
“I think Pat thinks he will make his get-away with his prisoner, and be
a gentleman. I’m sorry for Pat. Now I have a problem to solve within
myself. Shall I let him go ahead and make his plans, or shall I stop him
before he gets started, and save the poor Irishman from occupying cell
No. 76? I believe I can gain some knowledge by being deaf to it all. He
is surely a clever Irishman, and I will see what plans he will make to
escape with his prisoner, and I may be gaining knowledge, but I could not
do so by sitting on Pat’s seat of knowledge, so I think I will not leave
this office.”
“I hope that I shall receive a reply in regard to the real murderer, and
that he will be brought here. That will help to open the way to a clear
discovery of all this plot.
“What! A knock? I do hope that I shall not find a lady there.”
“Good morning, officer.”
“Good morning, Mr. McHenry.” The visitor was Mr. McHenry, junior. “What
can I do for you?”
“I should like to talk with you in regard to your new prisoner, Mr.
Pearson. My father brought me the news, and I am not doubting him, but I
truly would be better satisfied if I heard it through someone else also.
Father was in such a rage that I could not calm him enough to understand
the circumstances. I should appreciate your explaining it all to me.”
“My boy, I am very sorry to say that I have to do my duty and the rules
here we must comply with. We are not allowed to give out any information
in regard to our prisoners, except to the officials.”
“I ask for only enough to understand. Do you not see that I am in
trouble? Can not you help me? Do tell me that he is innocent. It means so
much to me.”
“My young friend, I understand the circumstances. I learned them through
your father. I am sorry for you and for the daughter of this man, but I
am powerless to do anything.”
“Could I talk with him?”
“No; I am not allowed to permit any information to be obtained inside of
these prison walls.”
“I am sure that it would never be known. I would never divulge the
secret.”
“I have confidence in you, but I should not be obeying rules here, and I
could not allow you the privilege under any circumstances.”
“I shall have to go, as I am unable to learn anything. Oh! could I not
see him, just for one short conversation?”
“I am sorry. I must repeat that I can not allow you your wish, so please
do not insist. It makes me feel bad to know, as I do, your predicament,
and to hear you plead. I can not help you. There, I would not do that!
The guard is coming. It is not necessary to let him see you shedding
tears, and I would rather you would go before he comes in.”
“I will go. I thank you for your sympathy, and I am certain you would
have granted my request if it had been in your power to do so.”
“I would, certainly. Good-bye.”
“Good day, sir.”
“Well, now I am getting in deeper. Even the poor young man’s heart is
broken. Engaged to the belle of the city, and not allowed to marry on
account of the misdeeds of her father. Poor boy! My heart did ache for
him when he broke down and cried.”
“Well, I am after coming back. Do you need me?”
“I don’t think I do, Pat. I am looking for some very important news.
Outside of that, I would let you take charge of the office and I would
take a stroll through the prison. I get very tired, sitting here from
morning until night, and I like to take a walk around the inside walls,
now and then, for exercise.”
“You may do so. I will watch the place. I will see that no one comes in.”
“Will you see that no one goes out, Pat? That is what I am here for. Very
few want to break in and many would like to break out.”
“You are not thinking of any one in particular, are you?”
“Oh, no! Almost any one of the prisoners would walk out if he had the
chance.”
“If they did, I surely would walk out with them.”
“We are not looking for trouble, Pat. It probably will come soon enough.
Open the door. I thought I heard a rap.”
“So you did, and so did I.”
It was a messenger-boy. The communication read:
“We have a prisoner here, a confessed murderer. Will leave for your place
in the morning.”
“All right, no answer,” the superintendent called to the waiting
messenger.
“I am so glad to receive this.”
“Is that the looked-for message?”
“It is, and the self-confessed murderer will be here to-morrow evening.
With him they will bring the papers releasing No. 78, Clarence Pearson,
an innocent man. Do you know anything about this, Pat? You sit there and
do not look alarmed or excited over anything I am telling you. I usually
act so when I understand it all.”
“Well, I have nothing to say. If I did, I would say it without you asking
me to. If I am not wanted, I’ll stroll around; or do you want me to keep
house and you stroll around? It is nearly bed-time.”
“No; I think I shall retire, as I have been somewhat worried to-day. I
shall lock up at once, and try to get around early in the morning, Pat.
We shall have a new man to take care of to-morrow.”
“I’ll do that, sir.”
“Now Pat is gone, and he will no doubt go at once to 77 cell and tell
Pearson all he has learned. I wanted him to know that the man is coming
and the brother would be a free man. I think I had best get some more
information, so I’ll just drop around and rest a while in 76 cell and see
what the plot will be, as Pearson must know that he will have his trial
soon. I feel certain that the officials have been prolonging matters
through pity for the family. Mr. McHenry was probably slow to take
action because his son was engaged to Pearson’s daughter. Of course he
would try to avoid scandal as much as possible. I’ll probably find Pat
busy with his prisoner, fixing up their plot, so I’ll lock up here and
step around. What? I see Pat’s going in now. I must hurry to get the
first of the plot.”
“I’m here, me friend.”
“I’m glad to see you, Pat. We must decide to-night upon some way to make
our get-away from here.”
“Yes, and if we are not careful, the brother will bate us out.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“Have I? Well, I heard it all. The real murderer will be here to-morrow,
and then what will they hold him for?”
“My brother?”
“Yes, your brother.”
“We must be out of here before to-morrow comes. What can we do? Now, Pat,
make your wits work fast.”
“I am thinking, and the main thing I’m thinking about is the money to
make the gentleman out of me. Where is the money?”
“Don’t let that worry you, Pat. I have plenty.”
“Well, if you have plenty, if you give your brother back his money, you
would be out of here as soon as he would, and save all scandal, and he a
poor man freed from here, wouldn’t he keep his mouth shut if he could be
made a gentleman out of?”
“Pat, you do not understand.”
“Well, then, explain it to me so I can understand. Can you do it?”
“I have told you that you would never have to work any more and you could
be wearing fine clothes all the rest of your life, have I not?”
“That you have, but does that make it so? I’d like to see a pile of
greenbacks in front of me before I explain anny further.”
“You see I am here tied up and can not get away. How can I show you the
money?”
“Well, me friend, what is better than a clear conscience? Do you think
money and a gentleman could show you a better time?”
“Oh, yes! I would not let a conscientious mind prevent me from having a
good time the rest of my life.”
“Me friend, your money is not showing you a good time, and the rest of
your life your conscience will hurt you, and the pity and shame you
have brought on your family—and those beautiful daughters—their lives
are ruined, all by yourself, your greediness for money. No, me friend, I
think I would rather be a hard-working Irishman all the rest of me life
and have a clear conscience.
“Pat, you are a coward. I thought you would help me out of here.”
“I did not help you in here, and why should I help you out?”
“Do you mean to go back on all the arrangements we have talked over?”
“That is what I do. Now I’ll be telling you.”
“Tell me what made you change your mind and talk this way?”
“Because I heard someone talk the other way.”
“You heard someone talk the other way?”
“Yes, I fully intended to be a gentleman and help you out of this prison,
and I thought I would walk around and think it over and see how bad I
wanted to be a gentleman, and I got tired and sit meself down in the
comfortable chair in the hospital, and there I was thinking it over and
I was trying to think if I wanted to be a gentleman all the rest of
me life, and when I asked meself the question I heard the answer, and,
faith, I never had me mind made up yet—I was going to think about it a
while—and I listened, as if I was hearing someone talking, and behold!
I did, and I looked around, and not a soul was in sight, and I asked
another question, and I got the answer again, and I thought: ‘If you know
so much and can answer all of my questions, I’ll be giving you a job.’
And I had a regular conversation with them, and in the conversation I
asked them how much money you had, and they told me not enough to get out
of the trouble you was in, so I think you will need it all, and I had
better not try to handle anny of it for you.”
“Who was this you were talking with that gave you all of this
information?”
“Well, me friend, I don’t know. I did not see annyone, but I surely did
hear someone.”
“What are you going to do—let me stay here and serve whatever time is
given me?”
“Well, what have I got to do with getting you out?”
“Look here! I’ve got you now where you will have to get me out, or I will
get you in here to occupy the next cell, 76.”
“I hardly think! That is taken. The murderer that is coming to-morrow
will have that.”
“Well, I am going to get away from here before to-morrow. I shall report
to the office, if you do not help me out, of your accepting a bribe, as
you agreed to do, to assist me in getting away. And they will look at it
this way: If you can be bought off, you would not be a competent man to
have in here. And that means you would lose your job, and you would find
it hard to get employment elsewhere, for your dishonesty would follow you
wherever you went.”
“Just as yours have done. And, me friend Pearson, I have not committed
the crime yet, and now I know, I never shall, so you just as well keep
your head shut, for I am now in a position where I might show you some
favors that I will do; but I will never show you the way out of this
place.”
“I am doomed to die here! It will kill me to have sentence passed on me
in court, and I am guilty, and it will be proved. Pat, won’t you please
help me out? I will do anything for you. I will give you my beautiful
daughter Gertie, whom you so much admire.”
“You are very kind. I am after seeing one young man in trouble because
he is in love with one of your beautiful daughters, and I’ll be after
loving a girl whose dad is out. I won’t have to come to the penitentiary
to ask for his girl.”
“Then you have decided to allow me to remain here, have you, Pat?”
“I’m not the court.”
“You are not going to help me out?”
“I am not.”
“You shall rue this day. I shall explain everything to the office
to-morrow.”
“I’ll go, then, and let you think about it, so you will have a good story
to tell. Good night, Pearson.”
“So Pat has weakened! I’ll see how he talks in the morning. I feel
certain that to-morrow the officials will take steps to bring Pearson to
trial, and I know that with what proof we have—and he has also pleaded
guilty in the presence of the officials themselves—he will be sentenced
for a number of years. I must now return to the office. I think Pat is
out of sight. The crisis will come to-morrow.”
“Well, me friend is mad because I do not help him out of his trouble and
help meself into trouble. I wonder where I heard that voice. I’m glad I
heard it when I did, and not after I did the dirty work.”
“_My boy, I was following you all the time, and would not have allowed
you to commit the crime._”
“What do I hear? Another voice, or is it the same? Well, me friend, I am
a brave Irishman, and just as long as you want to talk to me you may do
so. I’ll sit here the rest of the night, and I won’t have long to wait.
It’s nearly morning now. But I would of lost manny a night’s sleep,
perhaps, if you had not of told me. Whoever you are—I don’t know.”
“_And I am not going to tell you, now._”
“I heard the words: ‘I am not going to tell you, now.’ I must be after
getting out of this, for I’m hearing things, I am. I wonder if that
strange voice has returned. I thought they—whoever it was, or whatever it
was—had gone, never to return, but I do belave they have come back.”
“I think Pat will be around soon, and I will pretend that I have had a
restless night, and that I will not go to bed at this late hour,” thought
the superintendent. “He will be thinking this over and will not get it
off from his mind. I shall be anxious, for I have been worried very much
in the last few weeks. Yes, here he comes.
“Good morning, Pat.”
“I’m not feeling anny too good, officer.”
“What is wrong, Pat?”
“Well, I’m after telling you at once. I’ve got meself in the
penitentiary.”
“Of course; we’re all in here, but not from force.”
“And I never would be here by choice, but I’m deserving of punishment,
and I wish you would give it to me unbeknown to annyone of the higher
officials, and I would plead guilty.”
“Pat, what is wrong? I never heard you talk so before.”
“And I never did do so before.”
“Have you committed a murder?”
“No, your honor. But I come near liberating a convict. You have not the
confidence in me anny more you once had, or never—”
“Well, I am sorry, for I had a friend in you—or, at least, I felt so.”
“And now I’m friendless, a lone Irishman, and I will soon be a convict.”
“You don’t seem to want to tell me what is wrong, and I want to talk with
Pearson to-day. The telephone always rings when I am talking.
“Hello! Yes. You want me to bring Pearson to the office and read to him
the warrant which I shall receive this morning? In the mail? His day for
trial is set? All right, sir; I will obey orders. Good-bye.
“Pat, you may bring Pearson in. I see the mail is here, or soon will be.”
“May I ask of you one favor?”
“Yes. What is it, Pat?”
“If a fellow—scoundrel, I think, is the best name for me—should repent
of a crime before it is committed and never was committed, would you or
could you forgive him? Could they send one of them things you are looking
for when the postman comes in? Could they send one of them after me to—”
“Yes, Pat, if you are self-confessed criminal of some deed you have
committed, you surely would receive one of those warrants.”
“Why didn’t I die when I was a babe, instead of me poor mother, and she
here in me shoes and I in hers?”
“You must bring Pearson in here. Here is the postman.”
“I will, your honor.
“And now for the dirty work of me poor self to be found out. I could see
the wrong in others, and could not see when I was tempted the wrong I was
doing, and I, like those here who committed crimes, will have to pay the
penalty for it. I do not like to see this man Pearson go to the office
this morning, but that is the orders, and I must bring him in. Here I’ve
been wandering along and thinking of me own case, so I ’most forgot what
I was sent for. This is his cell, and he is fast asleep, but I must awake
him and take him to the office at once.
“Say! you! here! wake up! I want to take you for a walk.”
“I am not asleep. I was just resting.”
“Very well; come along. Your presence is wanted.”
“And your presence will be wanted too, some day, if you don’t change your
mind before we get to the office.”
“I shall never change my mind, not after I was told as I was and given
such good advice from some unseen force.”
“I’ve been thinking how to tell the whole story, and you will regret the
day you changed your mind.”
“I may do so. Here we are. The office is waiting for us, so come along.”
“I say, Pat, are you going to change your mind before we enter the
office?”
“Well, Pat, what are you debating about? Come along here. Time is
flying,” said the superintendent.
To the prisoner he said: “You are under arrest. You have been here
accused of obtaining money under false affidavit, and I shall have to
say—Pearson, I regret very much to have to read this to you, but I am
sworn to do my duty, and I have done so in this case, as I would do in
all others. Your trial is set for one week from to-day.
“You may take him back, Pat.”
“Your honor, I have something to say.”
“What have you to say, Pearson?”
“I will ask you if you have ever noticed Pat acting strangely, as if he
was in a deep study?”
“I don’t know as I have noticed it. I have had so many things to think
of in the last three or four months. I do not really know if I have been
noticing Pat very much, as he is one of the guards whom I can trust among
all of the prisoners. I think Pat is very reliable—a very reliable man to
have here.”
“If I ever get out of this. I will never do anny more dishonest work, or
even talk or think about it. I pray me poor mother may help me. Now, you
never did annything for me here on earth, mother, come down from Heaven,
if you are there, and help me, plase do help me keep me reputation up in
this Pearson case, in the eyes of the whole world. I now realize what it
means for a boy to make his first mistake. He is ruined for life, and if
all of the young men knew what I do now, they would never start to commit
anny crime.”
“What are you doing, Pat? Mumbling to yourself? No one can understand
those sounds.”
“I understand what he is doing. He has himself just where I will be soon,
locked up in this place.”
“Oh, Mr. Pearson! you always had a grievance against Pat. I have never
seen any cause for it—none at all, I say.”
“You will have, after I have explained all.”
“You may take him back, Pat. It will soon be time for the Southwest
Limited to arrive. Due in a half-hour. Make haste.”
He mused: “Pearson is one of those men who, after he has been caught,
wants to catch everyone else, and he will tell all on poor old Pat. I am
so sorry for him. His first mistake, and a bad one at that, but I hope
Pearson will be enough of a gentleman not to make him suffer for it. His
conscience will hurt him enough for his part. I always placed so much
confidence in Pat. I am heartily sick of the whole affair. One man can
commit a crime and drag others down with him. Here comes Pat. He looks
tired and worried.”
“Well, your honor, I am back after a hard time I had getting the officer
into his cell.”
“Pat, why should he say what he did? Have you had some trouble with him,
that you did not tell me about?”
“Your question shall be answered, but not to-day, not to-day.”