THE MURDERER ARRIVES.
“Here is our new prisoner, the self-confessed murderer, and Clarence
Pearson will be released.
“Open the door, Pat.”
“Good morning, sir. I have a prisoner for you.”
“Very well. Please register, here.”
“You will have to, for me. My wrists hurt so I am not able to hold a pen
in my hand, to say nothing of writing.”
“Your name is—”
“William Devenart.”
“A very odd name you have, Mr. Devenart.
“Pat, you may take care of him. Give him his bath and shave and new suit,
then return to the office with Clarence Pearson.”
“You poor, unfortunate fellow, you come along with me. Tell me all about
yourself. I’m a guard here, and will trate you nice if you trate yourself
so; but I want to give you a tip: Do not disobey rules. It will be better
for you. How long are you sentenced here for?”
“Life.”
“My man! A life sentence, indade! You will eat manny a meal with us, and
I am not sure but what I will ate some off the same table.”
“Do the guards and prisoners all eat together?”
“No, not always; but sometimes the guards turns into prisoners.”
“I do not understand you.”
“I do not know what I did mane, to do what I did. Here is the place.
Clane yourself up and don the new suit, and very seldom do the styles
change—I belave once in ten years, from stripes to checks. You will feel
cool after you have been shaved and have a hair-cut. One advantage,
you’ll not be needing a comb very soon.”
“Don’t they allow you to comb your hair?”
“Oh, yes; but you don’t have anny to comb.”
“Going to cut my hair off?”
“Sure, Mike—do all of ’em. And won’t I be a peach if I have to get me own
hair cut?
“The poor boy don’t look like a criminal. I will be kind to him. I could
see tears in his eyes when he was talking. If all of the young men could
see some of these heart-rending cases, I do feel we would have less
crime.”
“What! A lady coming here? I do believe it is.”
“Mrs. Pearson, come in,” said the superintendent. “How do you do, Mrs.
Pearson?”
“Good morning. I should like to see Mr. Pearson.”
“Your husband?”
“No, sir; I have disowned him, but I want to talk with him. I have some
papers I want him to sign. I also have an order from Mr. McHenry allowing
me to see him, as your rules could not be broken to accommodate anyone.”
“No, madam, I could not break the rules, but with this order I can let
you see him. I’ll ring for a guard to bring him.”
“I am to have a private conversation with him.”
“I can not allow that, madam. You must say what you have to say in my
presence, in this office.”
“You are one of the most accommodating men, I must say, that I ever saw.”
“I am sorry, very. I have heard you express your opinion of me, but I am
here to do my duty, and will at all events. Here comes the guard. I will
have your husband brought in at once.
“Bring the prisoner from cell 77.”
“Oh dear! You have him locked up, and call for him by his number, do you?
And he has not had a trial, nor has he been convicted of any crime.”
“We have a warrant for his arrest. His trial will be this week. I hope
that he will be able to prove his innocence. I am very sorry for him. I
have grieved over the matter considerably.”
“Well, I have not grieved at all. I am going to disown him after I get
his signature. Then I shall have all the property in my own name, and I
shall try to forget that I ever had a husband—a criminal. My daughter
Amelia will be married one week from to-day, and we can not be disgraced
by coming here after the marriage takes place, and that is why I am here
to-day. Is that he coming?”
“No; I have a prisoner who is to receive his freedom, and that is Pat,
bringing him in. By the way, that is your brother-in-law.”
“How dare you insult me in that way? I acknowledge a criminal as a
relative? No, never!”
“Well, here is your ‘fellow,’ No. 78. I can’t say ‘prisoner’ anny longer.
He gets his freedom to-day, and me old shoes will have to go with him,
for I don’t think I can get them to track anny other direction after the
prisoner 78 is gone out. Have you sent for the officer convict? Here he
comes.”
“Yes, Pat. Don’t you see Mrs. Pearson sitting there?”
“I beg your pardon, madam. I very seldom see a lady.”
“All brutes of men are alike.”
“Pearson, you may come in. Your wife is here to see you, and you may be
seated over there. I will look after your brother, here. He gets his
freedom to-day. The real murderer is in his new suit, and will be given
his occupation in the morning.”
“Did I hear that I am a free man?”
“You are, Clarence. Here are the papers.”
“And my brother? Oh! what will you do with him? Turn him loose?”
“No; not until we hear from the court. He will have his trial this week,
and I hope we will then be able to turn him loose.”
Mrs. Pearson addressed her husband as he approached her: “I want you to
sign over all of your part and interest in this home we, your daughters
and I, occupy. I will not live under a roof owned by a criminal, and you
shall be disowned at once. I have already made application—before my
daughter is married, I shall have all ties broken with you.”
“I am not going to sign over any of the property. It is not mine at all.
It belongs to my brother here. I spent and lost all of my estate, and
that is why I am here to-day. I swore that he was dead and in that way
got his share, and what we now have is his. He is alive and free, and he
is innocent, and here am I, a criminal and guilty, and bound down here
for no one knows how long.”
“Oh, dear brother! is this your wife? And she spoke of your daughters.
You have not told me anything about them. I can not see you separated
from them all for the loss of my money. What would I do with it, now,
to know that I would cause so much misery to obtain it. I could not be
happy. Oh, if I could only step in your shoes and you in mine! I would
gladly do so. And you, my dear sister-in-law, how sorry I am to know that
this has happened!”
“If you had never committed a murder—you, I say—feigning mercy for your
brother, we would not have to suffer.”
“I am not a murderer. Here are my papers of freedom, and the real
murderer is here in my place—self-confessed, and he will be punished for
the crime. If my dear brother could only be found as innocent as I am,
you would have your beautiful home always. As it is, I shall claim what
is due me, and what was left me by the will of my dear mother.”
“You may have a hard time to get it.”
“I am willing to turn all over to my brother. He is entitled to it, and
it belongs to him,” said the husband.
“Get some water, Pat. Mrs. Pearson has fainted.”
As she revived Mrs. Pearson asked that a carriage be called.
The superintendent replied: “You may step into this room. I will call one.
“Mr. Pearson, you may return to your cell. Pat, take him back to 77.”
“Oh, brother! what can I do for you?”
“Pray for me. You got me here. Except for you, I would be a free man.”
“Clarence, you may sign here. Here are the papers of freedom. I want to
shake hands with you. I hope that you will never again be placed in such
a position,” said the superintendent.
“I thank you, sir. I am under obligations to you for many favors, and I
hope that you will always be as just to all the other prisoners as you
have been to me.”
“I shall try to be. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, sir.”
“Your carriage is here, Mrs. Pearson.”
“Good-bye, officer.”
“Good-bye, madam.”
“Drive to 1715 North Twenty-third Street,” said Mrs. Pearson.