Decatur Daily Democrat, Volume 11, Number 26, Decatur, Adams County, 30 January 1913 — Page 2

THE THIRD DEGREE—Continued. The banker m?-a i -tt.' of impatience. a- if rueh cynslderlktions were not important. “I don’t know yet," he said, haughtily. "I shall think the matter over . carefully.” Annie was fast losing patience. She was willing to sacrifice herself and give up everything she held dear in 1 fife to save the man she loved, but ! the cold, deliberate, calculating attitude of this unnatural father exaa- j perated her. “But I want to know,” she said, 1 boldly “I want to consider the mat- ’ ter carefully, too.” ’ "You?’ sneered Mr. Jeffries. “Yes. sir," she retorted. "I’m pay- : ing dearly for it —with my —with all I haie. I want to know Just what i you’re going to give him for it.” ' He was lost In reflection for a moment. then he said, pompously: “I shall furnish the money for the employment of such legal talent as 1 may be necessary. That’s as far as I ! wish to go in the case. It must not I be known—l cannot allow it to be known that I am helping him.” "Must not be known?” cried Annie, , in astonishment. "You mean you won’t stand by him? You’ll only just pay for the lawyer?” I The banker nodded: "That is all I can promise." Sh« laughed hysterically. "Why." she exclaimed. "I —I could do that myself if I —l tried hard enough." ’’! can promise nothing more,” re piied Mr. Jeffries, coldly. "But that is not enough,” she protested. “I want you to come forward and publicly declare your belief in your son’s innocence. I want you to put your arms around him and say to the world: ‘My boy is innocent! I know it and I’m going to stand by him.’ You won’t do that?” I 1 Mr. Jeffries shook his head. “It is impossible.” The wife’s pent-up feelings now gave way The utter indifference of this aristocratic father aroused her indignation to such a pitch that she became reckless of the consequences. They wanted her to desert him, just as they deserted him, but she : ' wouldn’t. She would show them the , kind of woman she was. “So!” she cried in an outburst of mingled anger and grief. “So bis famfly must desert him and his wife 1 must leave him! The poor boy must stand absolutely alone in the world, and face a trial for his life! Is that the idea?” The banker made no reply. Snapping her fingers, she went on: “Well, it isn’t mine. Mr. Jeffries! I wc.’t consent to a divorce! I won’t leave America! And I’ll see him Just as often as I can. even if I have to sit in the Tombs prison all day. As for his defense. I’ll find some one. I’ll go to Judge Brewster again and if he still refuses. I’ll go to some one else. There must be some good, big-hearted lawyer in this great city who’ll take up his case ” Trembling with emotion, she readjusted her veil and with her handkerchief dried "her tear-stained face. Going toward the door, she said: “You needn’t trouble yourself any more, Mr. Jeffries. We shan’t need your help. Thank you very much for the interview. It was very kind of you to listen so patiently. Good afternoon. sir.” Before the astonished banker could stop her, she had thrown back the tapestry and disappeared through the door. CHAPTER XIII. In the very heart of Manhattan, right in the center of the city's most congested district, an imposing edifice of gray stone, medieval In Its style of architecture, towered high above all the surrounding dingy offices and squalid tenements. Its massive construction, steep walls, pointed turrets, raised parapets and long, narrow, slitIlke windows, heavily barred, gave it the aspect of a feudal fortress incongruously set down plumb in the midst of twentieth century New York. The dull roar of Broadway hummed a couple of blocks away; in the distance loomed the lofty, graceful spans of Brooklyn bridge, jammed with its opposing streams of busy interurban traffic. The adjacent streets were filled with the din of hurrying crowds, the rattle of vehicles, the cries of vendors. the clang of street cars, the ugh! v;;h! of speeding automobiles. The active, pulsating life of the metropolis surged like a rising flood about the tall gray walls, yet there was no response within. Grim, silent, sinister, th- city prison, popularly known as "the Tombs." seemed to have nothing in common with the daily activities of the big town in which, notwithstanding. it unhappily played an important part. The present prison is a vastly different place to the old jail from which it got Its melancholy cognomen. To-day there is not the slightest justification for the lugubrious epithet applied to it. but In the old days, when man's Inhumanity to man was less a form of speech than a cold, merciless fact, the "Tombs” described an tntol crable and disgraceful condition fairly accurately. Formerly the cells In which the unfortunate prisoners were confined while awaiting trial were situated deep under ground and had neither light nor ventilation. A man might be guiltless of the offense with which he was charged, yet while awaiting an opportunity to prove his Innocence he was condemned to spend days, sometimes months, in what was little better than a grave. Literally, he was burled alive. A party of foreigners visiting the prison one day were startled st seeing human beings confined In such boles. "They look li’ , c tombs!” cried some one. New York was unused at the singularly

appropriate appellative ana it has stuck to the prison ever since. But times change and institutions with them. As man becomes more civilized he treats the lawbreaker with more humanity. Probably sodI ety will always need its prisoners, 1 but as we become more enlightened we insist on treating our criminals i more from the physiological and psychological standpoints than in the cruel, brutal, barbarous manner of the dark ages. In other words the sociologist insists that the lawbreaker has : greater need of the physician than he ' has of the jailer. To-day the city prison Is a tomb in name only. It Is admirably constructed, commodious, well ventilated. The cells are large and well lighted, with comfortable cots and all the modern sanitary arrangements. There are roomy corridors for daily exercise and luxurious shower baths can be obtained free for the asking. There are chapels for the religiously inclined and a library for the studious. The food Is wholesome and well prepared In a large, scrupulously clean kitchen situated on the top floor. Carping critics have, indeed, declared the Tombs to be too luxurious, declaring that habitual criminals enjoy a stay at the prison and actually commit crime so that they may enjoy some of Its hotel-like comforts. It was with a sinking heart and a dull, gnawing sense of apprehension that Annie descended from a southbound Madison avenue car In Center street and approached the small portal under the forbidding gray walls She had visited a prison once before, when her father died. She remembered the depressing ride in the train to Sing Sing, the formidable steel doors and ponderous bolts, the narrow cells, each with its involuntary occupant in degrading stripes and closely cropped hair, and the uniformed guards armed with rifles. She remembered how her mother wept and how she had wondered why they kept her poor da-da in such an ugly place. To think that after all these years she was again to go through a similar experience. She had nerved herself for the ordeal. Anxious as she was to see Howard and learn from his lips all that had happened, she feared that she would never be able to see him behind the bars without breaking down. Yet she must be strong so she could work to set him free. So much had happened In the last two days. It seemed a month since the police had sent for her at midnight to hurry down to the Astrurfa. yet it was only two days ago. The morning following her trying interview with Capt. Clinton in the dead man’s apartment she had tried to see*Howard, but without success. The police held him a dose prisoner, pretending that he might make an attempt upon his life. There was nothing for her to do but wait. Intuitively she realized the necessity of immediately securing the services of an able lawyer. There was no doubt of Howard’s innocence, but she recalled with a shiver that even innocent persons have suffered capital punishment because they were unable to establish their Innocence, so overwhelming were the appearances against them. He must have the best lawyer to be had. regardless of expense. Only one name occurred to her. the name of a man of international reputation, the mere mention of whose name in a courtroom filled the hearts of the Innocent with hope and the guilty with dread. That man was Judge Brewster. She hurried downtown to his office and waited an hour before he could see her. Then he told her, politely but coldly, that he must decline to take her case. He knew well who she was and he eyed her with some curiosity, but *ls manner was frigid and discouraging. There were plenty of lawyers in New York, he said. She must go elsewhere. Politely he bowed her out Half of a precious day was already lost. Judge Brewster refused the case. To whom could she turn now? In despair, almost desperate, she drove uptown to Riverside drive and forced an entrance into the Jeffries home. Here, again, she was met with a rebuff. Still not discouraged, she returned to Judge Brewster’s office. He was out and she sat there an hour waiting to see him. Night came and he did not return. Almost prostrated with nervous exhaustion, she returned to their deserted little flat in Harlem. It was going to be a hard fight, she saw that. But she would keep right on. no matter at what cost. Howard could not be left alone to perish without a hand to save him. Judge Brewster must come to nis rescue. He could not refuse. She would return ■ > r atn to his office this afternoon and sit there all dav long, if necessary, until be promised to take the case. He alone could save him. She woild go to the lawyer and beg him on her knees If necessary, but first she must cee Howard and bid him take courage. A low doorway from Center street rave access to the gray fortress. At the heavy steel gate stood a portly policeman armed with a big key. Each time before letting people In or out he inserted this key In a ponderous lock. The gate would not open merely by turning the handle. This was to prevent the escape of prisoners, who might possibly succeed In reaching so far as the door, but could not open the steel gate without the big key. When once any one entered the prison he was not permitted to go out , again except on a signal from a ! keeper. ■When Annie entered she found the ‘ .reception room filled with visitors, men and women of all ages and nev ; tlonallties, who, like herself, had come to see some relative or friend in ( trouble. It was a motley and Interest- . Ing crowd. There were fruit peddlers, sweat shoo workers, sporty looking I

men. negroes and ftnshy looking women. All seemed callous and indifferent. as if quite at home amid the sinister surroundings of a prison. One or two others appeared to belong to a more respectable class, their sober manner and careworn faces reflecting silently the humiliation and shame they felt at their kinsman’s disgrace. The small barred windows did not nermlt of much ventilation and. as the day was warm, the odor, was sickening. Annie looked around fearfully and humbly took her place at the end of the long line which slowly worked Its way to the narrow inner grating, where credentials were closely scrutinized The horror of the place seized upon her. She wondered who all these poor people were and what the prisoners whom they came to see had done to offend the majesty of the law. The prison was tilled with policemrti and keepers and running, in and out with messages and packages were a number of men In neat linen suits. She asked a woman who they were. "Them’s trusties — prisoners that has special privileges in return for work they does about the prison.” The credentials were passed upon slowly and Annie, being the twentieth in line, found it a tedious wait. In front of her was a bestial looking negro, behind her a woman whose cheap Jewelry, rouged face and extravagant dress proclaimed her profession to be the most ancient in the world. But at last the gate was reached. As the doorkeeper examined her ticket he looked up at her with curiosity. A murderer is rare enough even in the Tombs, to excite interest, and as she passed on the attendants whispered among themselves. She knew they were talking about her, but she steeled herself not to care. It was only a foretaste of other humiliations which she must expect. A keeper nqw took charge of her and led her to a room where she was searched by a matron for concealed weapons, a humiliating ordeal, to which even the richest and most influential visitors must submit with as good grace as possible. The matron was a hard looking woman of about 50 years, in whom every spark of human pity and sympathy had been killed during her many years of constant association with criminals. The word "prison” had lost its meaning to her She saw nothing undesirable in jail life, but looked upon the Tombs rather as a kind of boarding house in which people made short or long sojourns. according to their luck. She treated Annie unceremoniously, yet not unkindly. "So you’re the wife of Jeffries, whom they’ve got for murder, eh?” she said, as she rapidly ran her hands through the visitor’s clothing. “Yes,” faltered Annie, “but it’s all a mistake. I assure you. My husband's perfectly innocent. He wouldn’t L-rt a fly.” The woman grinned. “They all say that, m'm.” Lugubriously she added: "I hope you'll be more lucky than some others were.” Annie felt herself grow cold. Was this a sinister prophecy? She shuddered and, hastily taking a dollar from her purse, slipped it into the matron's hand. "May I go now?” she said. "Yes, my dear; I guess you've got nothing dangerous on you. We have to be very careful. I remember once when we had that Hoboken murderer here. He’s the feller that cut his wife's head off and stuffed the body in a barrel. His mother came here to i I Fl'ifl /nA“So You’re the Wife of Jeffries, Whom They've Got for Murder, Eh?” see him one day and what did I find Inside her stocking but an Innocent looking little round pill, and if you please, It was nothing less than prussic acid. He would have swallowed It and the electric chair wotld have been cheated. So you see how careful we has to be.” Annie could not listen to any more. The horror of having Howard classed with fiends of that description sickened her. To the keeper she said quickly: "Please take me to my husbaUP." Taking another dollar from her purse, she slipped the bill Into the man’s hand, feeling that, here as everywhere else, one must pay for privileges and courtesies. Her guide led the way and ushered her into an elevator, which, at a signal, started slowly upwards. The cells In the Tombs are arranged in rows In the form of an ellipse in the center of each of the six floors. There Is room to accommodate 900 prisoners of both sexes. The men are confined In tile new prison; the woman, the old building. Only the centerofeach floor being taken up with the rows of narrow cells, there remains a broad corridor, running all the way round and flanked on the right by high walls with small barred windows. An observer from the street glancing «n at

the windows might conclude that IL« y were those of the cells in which prisoners were confined. As a matter of fact, the cells have no windows, only a grating which looks directly out into the circular corridor. At the fourth floor the elevator stopped and the heavy iron door swung back. "This way," said the keeper, stepping out and quickly walking along the corridor. "He's in cell No. 456." A lump rose In Annie’s throat. The place was well ventilated, yet she thought she would faint from a choking feeling of restraint. All along the corridor to the left were iron doors painted yellow. In the upper part of the door were half a dozen broad slits through which one could see what was going on inside. “Those are the cells," volunteered her guide. Annie shuddered as. mentally, she pictured Howard locked up in such a dreadful place. She peered through one of the slits and saw a narrow cell about ten feet long by six wide. The only furnishings were a folding cot with blanket, a wash bowl and lavatory. Each cell had its occupant, men and youths of all ages. Some were reading, some playing cards. Some were lying asleep on their cots, perhaps dreaming of home, but most of them leaning dejectedly against the Iron bars wondering when they would regain their liberty. “Where are the women?" asked Annie, trying to keep down the lump that rose chokingly In her throat. "They're in a separate part of the prison,” replied the keeper. “Isn’t it dreadful?" she murmured. “Not at all," he exclaimed cheerfully. "These prisoners fare better in prison than they do outside. I wager some of them are sorry to leave.” “But it's dreadful to be cooped up in those little cells, isn’t it?" sheoaid. "Not so bad as it looks,” he laughed. "They are allowed to come out In the corridor to exercise twice a day for an hour and there is a splendid shower bath they can take.” "Where is my husband’s cell?" she whispered, almost dreading to hea» the reply. “There it is," he said, pointing to a door. “No. 456.” Walking rapidly ahead of her and stopping at one of the cell doors, he rapffed loudly on the iron grating and cried: “Jeffries, here’s a lady come to see you. Wake up there!” A white, drawn face approached the grating. Annie sprang forward. “Howard!" she sobbed. “Is it you, Annie?” came a weak voice through the bars. "Can’t I go in to him?” she asked pleadingly. The keeper shook his head. "No, m'm, you must talk through the bars, but I won’t disturb you.” He walked away and the husband and wife were left facing each other. The tears were streaming down Annie’s cheeks. ‘ It was dreadful to be standing there so close and yet not be able to throw her arms around him. Her heart ached as she saw the distress in his wan, .pale face. "Why didn’t you come before?” he asked. “I could not. They wouldn't let me. Oh, Howard.” she gasped. “What a dreadful thing this Is! Tell me how you got into such a scrape!” He put his hand to his head as if it hurt him, and she noticed that his eyes looked queer. For a moment the agony of a terrible suspicion crossed her mind. Was it possible that in a moment of drunken recklessness he had shot Underwood? Quickly, almost breathlessly, she whispered to him: "Tell me quickly, ’tis not true, is it? You did not kill Robert Underwood.” He shook his head. "Ng,” be said. “Thank God for that!” she exclaimed. "But your confession.—what does that mean?" “I do not know They told me I did it. They insisted I did it. He was sure I did it. He told me he knew I did it He showed me the pistol. He was so insistent that I thought he was right—that I had done it." In a deep whisper he added earnestly: "But you know I didn’t, don’t you?” "Who is be?" demanded Annie. “The police captain.” “Oh. Capt. Clinton told you you did it?” Howard nodded. “Yes, he told me he knew I did it He kept me standing there six hours, questioning and questioning untH I was ready to drop. I tried to sit down; be made me stand up. I did not know what I was saying or doing. He told me I killed Robert Underwood. He showed me the pistol under the strong light. The reflection from the polished nickel flashed into my eyes, everything suddenly became a blank. A few moments later the coroner came in and Capt. Clinton told him I confessed. Rut it isn't true, Annie. You Know I am as innocent of that murder as you are." "Thank God, thank God!” exclaimed* Annie. “I see it all now.” Her tears were dried. Her brain was beginning to work rapidly. She already saw a possible line of defense. I ”1 don’t know how it all happened,” went on Howard. “I don’t know any more about it than you do. I left you to go to Underwood's apartment. On the way I foolishly took a drink. When I got there I took more Whisky. Before I knew it I was drunk. While talking I fell asleep. Suddenly I heard a woman’s voice.” "Ah!” interrupted Annie. "You, too, beard a woman’s voice. Capt. Clinton said there was a woman in it.” Thoughtfully, as if to herself, she added: "We must find that woman.” “When I woke up,” continued Howard. "it was dark. Groping around for the electric light, I Mumbled over something. It was Underwood's dead

camo by his death I have net th slightest idea. 1 at once a and 1 tried to leave the apartment unobserved. Just as I was going, Underwood's man servant arrived aud he handed me over to the police. That's the whole story. I've been here since yesterday and I’ll be* devil ish glad to get out." “You will get out." she cried. "I'm doing everything possible to get you free. I’ve been trying to get the best lawyer in the country —Richard Brew stcr." “Richard Brewster!” exclaimed Howard. “He’s my father’s lawyer." "I saw your father yesterday afternoon." she said quietly. -» "You did!" he exclaimed, surprised. "Was he willing to receive you?” “He had to," she replied. “I gave him a piece of my mind.” Howard looked at her in mingled amazement and admiration. That she should have dared to confront a man as proud and obstinate as his father astounded him. What did he say?” he asked eag erly. “I asked him to come publicly to your support and tq give you legal assistance. He refused, saying he could not be placed in a position ot condoning such a crime and that your behavior and your marriage had made him wash his hands of you forever.” Tears filled Howard's eyes and his mouth quivered. "Then my father believes me guilty of this horrible crime?’ he exclaimed "He insisted that you must be guilty as you had confessed. He offered, though, to give you legal assistance, but only on one condition." “What was that condition?" he de sanded. "That I consent to a divorce,” replied Annie quietly. “What did you say?” “I said I’d consent to anything if it would help you, but when he told me that even then he would not come personally to your support I told him we would worry along without his as ststance. On that I left him." "You’re a brave little woman!’ - cried Howard. Noticing her pale, anxious face, he said: “You, too, must have suffered." “Oh. never mind me," she rejoined quickly. "What we must do now is to get you out of this horrid place and clear your name before the world. We must show that your alleged confes sion is untrue; that it was dragged from you involuntarily. We must find that mysterious woman who came tc Underwood's rooms while you lay on the couch asleep. Do you know what my theory is, Howard?" “What?" demanded her husband. ‘‘T believe you were hypnotized into making that confession. I’ve read of such things before. You know the boys in college often hypnotized you. You told me they made you do al) kinds of things against your will. That big brute, Capt. Clinton, simply forced his will on yours.” “By Jove —I never thought of that!’ he exclaimed. "I know my head ached terribly after he got through ail that questioning. When he made me look at that pistol I couldn’t resist any more. But how are we going tc break through the net which the po lice have thrown around me?” “By getting the best lawyer we can procure. I shall insist on Judge Brewster taking the case. He declines, but I shall go to his office again this afternoon. He must —” Howard shook his head. "You’ll not be able to get Brewster He would never dare offend my father by taking up my case without his permission. He won't even see you.” “We’ll see,” she said quietly. “He’D see me if I have to sit in his office all day for weeks. I have decided to have Judge Brewster defend you because I believe it would mean acquittal. He will build up a defense that will defeat all the lies that the police have concocted. The police have a strong case because of your alleged confession. It will take a strong lawyer to fight them.” Earnestly she added: “Howard, if your life is to be saved we must get Judge Brewster.” “All right, dear," he replied. “1 can only leave it in your hands. I know that whatever you do will be for the best. I'll try to be qs patient as I can My only thinking of you, dear ” A heavy step resounded in the corridor. The keeper came up. "Time’s up, m’m,” be said civilly Annie thrust her hand through the bars; Howard carried it reverently to his lips. "Good-by, dear,” she said. "Keep up your courage. You’ll know that I am working for your release every moment. I won’t leave a stone unturned.” “Good-by, darling,' he murmured. He looked at her longingly and there were tears In her eyes as she turned away. * "I’ll be back very soon," she said. , A few minutes later they were in the elevator and she passed through the big steel gate once mure into the sunlight street. CHAPTER XIV. Outwardly, at least. Judge Brew ster's offices at 83 Broadway in no way differed from the offices of ten thousand other lawyers who strive to eke out a difficult living in the most overcrowded of all the professions They consisted of a modest suite of rooms on the sixth floor. There was a small outer office with a rafled-off inclosure, behind which sat a half dozen stenographers busy copying legal documents; as many men clerks were writing at desks, and the walls were fitted with shelves filled with ponderous law books. In one corner was a room with glass door marked “Mr. Brewster. ITlvatG."

Assuredly no casual visitor could of the most brilliant # legal minds in the country, y office had been pn lai most sensational victories ever recorded in the law offlee such rewere not man). ' „ nown was naturally HF®’ 1 crvlceg could afford to retain his ' and in fact he was seldom called upon except to act in the interest of wealthy corporations. In these case, of course, his fee. were enormous. He had very few private clients; in fact, he declined much private P rae “‘’ that was offered to him. e . been the legal adviser of 11 Jeffries, Sr., for many years. T two men had known each other n their younger days and practica y had won success tegether-the one in the banking business, the other in the service of the law. An important trust company, of which Mr. Jeffries was president, was constantly involved in all kinds of litigation of hHU rev if Z He Felt In Singularly Good Spirits, which Judge Brewster had exclusive charge. As the lawyer found this highly remunerative, it was only natural that he had no desire to lose Mr. Jeffries as a client. Secluded in his private office, the judge was busy at his desk, finishing a letter. He folded it up, addressed an envelope, then lit a cigar and looked at the time. It was three o’clock. The day's work was about over and he smiled with satisfaction as he thought of the automobile ride in the park he would enjoy before dressing and going to bis club for dinner. He felt in singularly good spirits that afternoon. He had just won in the court a very complicated case which meant not only a handsome addition to his bank account, but a signal triumph over his legal opponents. Certainly, fortune smiled on him. He had no other immediate cases on hand to worry about. He could look forward to a few weeks of absolute rest. He struck a bell on his desk and a clerk entered. Handing him the note he had just written, he said: “Have this sent at once by messenger.” "Very well, judge," answered the clerk By the by.’ frowned the lawyer, “has that woman been in to-day?" "Yes—she sat in the outer office all morning, trying to see you. We said you were out of town, but she did not believe it. She sat there till she got tir.d She had idea that you went out by another stairway." ■ Humph,’ growled the lawyer; “a nice thing to be besieged in this manner. if she annoys me much longer, I shall send for the police.” At that moment another clerk eni tered the room. W hat Is It, Mr. Jones?" demanded the lawyer. "A lady to see you, judge," said the I clerk, handing him a card. The lawyer glanced at the bit of pasteboard, and said Immediately: , ' “Oh, yes, show her in." The two clerks left the room and Judge Brewster, after a glance in the mirror to readjust his cravat, turned l°a Br Tu ? 18 VlSitOr ' The docr opened and Alina entered. She was faulti lessly gowned, as usual, but her manner was flurried and agitated. Evidently something had happened to upherkaD.d. 9 , h<> had coae ®>»ke her husband s lawyer the confidant of . The ]udRP advanced gallantly and pointed to a chair ’ frie^nw m r lnR ’ my (lear Mrß ’ rnes, how do you dor* ; hurriedly. Jeffr ' e ’ ‘ We? " asked “This' 18 h ' P rppl!ed - smiling, 'think it is t h UD T WIe<I P lpas I 18 the time ou have graceu my office with your presence ” 1 claimed foSt “ ‘ S here! *’ she ex ' claimed, loosing around nervouslv It is hard to believe this Is the very i center of the citv • Tgw very Offered tn hl 7 Takin « the i: "Ah < ? ■ slle Went ' rfvd ” se ’ we are woreager “ ean about Underwood Alicia nodded. As th« Mr J . ef * rieg ,s terribly upset. ’ now we have ‘ enou gh. But ■ r„o„ u,. n frantic about it" Kt **iy> Im ■ MM It. 1 ’That woman la xw • ‘Mrs. Howard JeffrwS?’ nam *’ ' ( Paraded before the public' At a i when everything should ’ keep ft out of the p #c d ° Be ‘° I ia pnin» ♦«. « papers thia woman stajs!" ÜBt

She fanned herself ” while the lawyer rapp d J. •ent mlndedly with „° “ d ' Jßk abAlicia w. nt ou Papvr "You know I havu woman. What Is Bh( . llke 7 the : staud she’s been both h.’ ,in<ier ’ UK.. J m band of hers. Do VOI , 8 ‘ the impertinence to come m* and ask Mt\jeffrJs to heln aak.ed my husband to but all I could get from hin w as t t,’ •he was Impertinent and imn U K ßll ,i 1 added: ”1 8 she as nrettv .. t. he tures In the paper? You’ve of course?” Beta “ er , Judge Brewster frowned ' ■ <«.” ho replied -ghe come, every day regularly. sh( . compels me to see her an,l >-«r ’ **’ t ‘" ’’7 ‘"l* her I hav.-n t my decision about taking her ea“" *■ "What Insolence!" exclaimed \ lw . I should lhlnk that V()1| - A her put out of the office ” The lawyer was silent and t oy.« somewhat nervously with the > w ., ! cutter, as if not quite decided response to make He - d ~ n t rou hav, ‘ her Put out of the office* she repeated. The judge looked up. Thr-re was an expression in his face that might I have been Interpreted as one nf annoyance. as if he rather resented thi, intrusion into his business affairs. '\ but Mm. Jeffries. Sr, was too i£ portant a client to quarrel with so he merely said: “Frankly, Mrs. Jeffries, if ft were not for the fact that Mr Jeffries ha. exacted from me a promise not to take up this case. I should he tempted: to—consider the matter. In the first place, you know I always liked How-? ard. I saw a good deal of him before your marriage to Mr. Jeffries He was always a wild, unmanageable boy, weak In character, but he hzd many lovable traits. lam very sorry, indeed, to see him in such a terrible position. It was hard for me to realize it and I should never have believed him guilty had he not cop fessed to the crime." "Yea," she assented. "It Is an aw ful thing and a terrible blow to hi. father. Os course, he has had noth !ng to do with Howard for month. As you know, he turned him out of doors long ago. but the disgrace i. none the less overwhelming." The lawyer looked out of the win dow and drummed his fingers on arm of his chair. Suddenly wheeling round, and facing his client, he said: I "You know this girl he married is no ordinary woman ’’ “Oh!” she exclaimed, sarcastically. “She has succeeded in arousing yo-’ sympathy." The judge bowed coldly. “No," he replied. "I would hardly say that. But she has aroused my curiosity. She is a very peculiar girl evidently a creature of impulse and determination. I certainly feel sorry for her. Her position is a very painful one. She has been marrh 1 only a few months, and now her husband has to face the most awful ac-usation that can be brought again-t a man She is plucky In spite of it all. and is moving heaven and earth in Howard', defense. She believes hers. If to be in some measure responsible for his mtefortune. Apart from that the case interests mo from a purely : r-: -sional point of view. There a 5 venl strange features connected v th the case. Sometimes, in spite of ward's confession. I don’t believe he committ 0 that crime.” AIR-ia changed color and shifting uneasily on her chair, ser.it :-,-d the lawyer’s face. What was ' : :.d that calm, inscrutable mask? XV’ • th< nry had he formed? One news";-per had suggested suicide. She might herself j come forward and declare that Robert Underwood had threatened to take his own life, but how could sb* face the scandal which such a course would involve? She would have to admit visiting Underwood's renms >’ ' midnight alone. That surely would rutn her In the eyes not only of h*r husband, but of tie whole world. 1 this sacrifice of her good name necessary to save an Innocent man’ life, perhaps she might summon OP enough courage to make ft. Hut, after all. she was by no means sure herself that Underwood had committed suicide. Howard had confessed, ’’ I why should she jeopardize her g< i name uselessly? “No.” repeated the judge, sha's,tr. I his head, “there’s something stranr In the whole affair. I believe Howard had any hand in it I “But he confessed!" excising Alicia. The judge shook his head “That’s nothing.” he said. have . been many instances of confessions. A famous as ’ 0 , kind was the Boom case In ''. Two brothers confessed havn s . ■ - their brother-in-law and d J f,crl how they destroyed the be-.), - j some time afterward the nl, ‘ rd Thf man turned up alive and w '‘‘ object of the confession, of was to turn the verdict from mu to manslaughter, the circums. • - evidence against them havillp ft I so strong. In the days of "- 1 • the unfortunate women a' - '’’ 1 ’" 1 . „ being witches were often urg relatives to confess as being way of escape open to thenl nfe|se(l Foster, at Salem, in 1692 con that she was a witch. She «lH devil appeared to her in the a bird, and that she atten gbe ing of witches at Salem ' c( was not insane, but t be ’ ‘ the accusation brought aß ' a .' had been too much for a we» * Howard’s confession may P? ' due to some such lnfluer ”'** „»)(*.' “I hope for his poor f athtr bt rlM |>t . eaJd AUcia. "that v-on (Continued on I’ aße