BEST SHORT STORIES

Otago Witness, Issue 4030, 9 June 1931, Page 8

BEST SHORT STORIES

XI.-BARS.

By

CHARLES FRANCIS COE.

(Copybight.—Fob the Otago Witness.)

** I killed her because I loved her. I don’t care what you do with me.” That was Cotter’s statement when they found him standing above tlie victim with a still-smoking gun held in his hand. It remained his only statement throughout all the weary weeks of the Grand Jury hearings, the ensuing indictment, and into the very court room itself.

The court assigned him an attorney, whose services he frankly did not want. “ It’s the law,” they told Cotter. “ You are indicted for first degree murder, and cannot plead guilty. The State must satisfy itself before taking your life.”

“ Very well. , I don’t care,” he responded listlessly. “ I don’t see why we have to make all this fuss about it. I killed her because I loved her. I admit it. There’s nothing to prove.” “ There is a great deal to prove,” the assigned lawyer argued. “ You don't seem to realise that you’re headed for the chair. If we 'give them a battle on the sheer evidence they’ve got, they’ll never burn you! I might even get you off with a short sentence for manslaughter. We’d try the insanity gag if you’d help a bit.” “ I wasn’t insane,” Cotter said simply “ I knew when I killed her. I remember every move I made and every one she made. There was just something inside me made me do it. I loved her, but I’m glad I- did it. I had to do it.” So it was that there was little enough of a case. Cotter himself was the only eye-witness. From the standpoint of the trial, an ambitious lawyer stood discouraged. The district attorney recognised this fact; perhaps felt a little sympathy for the mute man who was slowly growing grey in the cell, where he waited disposition of the; case. In any event, he agreed to take a plea of feuilty in second degree murder, which called for a natural life sentence. And so it was arranged. The Judge heard the evidence and the plea, read the indictment with judicious care, then pronounced the sentence.

“ It is the judgment a,nd the sentence of this court,” lie droned, “ that you. be confined at hard labour in the State Prison for the rest of your natural life.” He spoke slowly, ponderously, and his tongue seemed to hesitate as it formed the last seven words. - - Cotter showed no emotion unless it was of relief. For him, the business of uncertainty, at least, was over. They, led him from’the courtroom and men and women ’looked upon him with curiosity. He dropped his glance towards his feet, and kept it there as they traversed the well-filled corridor of the ancient building. The afternoon papers referred briefly to the case:— JONOTHAN COTTER RECEIVES LIFE , SENTENCE. KILLER PLEADS GUILTY TO WIFE MURDER AND IS SENTENCED BY JUDGE TRAND. Jonothan Cotter, who, several months ago, was found standing over the body of his murdered wife with a smoking revolver still clutched in his hand, today received a life sentence. - The district attorney agreed to accept a murder plea of guilty in the second degree,- thus saving the State the cost of trial. “ This is a peculiar case,” Roland B. Nevers, the attorney assigned by the court to the defense, said after sentence had been pronounced. “ I have never met a man like Cotter. With proper defensive measures, the State would have had a hard time proving a lawful ease against him. But he would not fight. ' I agreed to the second degree plea only after he had repeatedly refused to help himself in any way.”

Cotter is a successful business man, who has operated an uptown department store over a period of years. He and his wife, the former Miss Sunny Weather in a popular extravaganza, occupied a luxurious apartment in the city, and it was there that the crime was committed. The murderer will be taken immediately to the State Prison, where he will remain for the rest of his natural life unless pardoned by the Governor. “ The settlement of your estate,” Warden Kelsh announced to the blueclad man standing before his desk, " leaves a considerable sum of money to your credit. The law allows you to name trustees for its investment and care. You can consult an attorney about the matter if you wish.” He spoke crisply and in the tone of a man who cites matters of law. The prisoner cleared his throat and spoke huskily. “ It’s all right, Mr Warden,” he said listlessly. “ I don’t care about it.” “ The law allows you to spend a small sum each week for additional food here in the prison,” Kelsh added suggestively.

As the official watched the man before him, his lids narrowed and a tolerant light filled his eyes. “ How long have you been here now, Cotter ? ” he asked. “ I don’t know, Mr Warden. I haven’t kept track. It doesn’t matter, you see.” “ No,” the warden grunted, “ you aren’t going anywhere in particular, that’s true enough. But -you’re not always going to feel that way, Cotter.” He leaned across the desk and pressed a button. The clerk whom he summoned was sent for Cotter’s commitment papers. The warden perused them thoughtfully. By and by he said, “ You’ve been here eight months, Cotter. You ought to begin getting a hold on yourself by this time.” The prisoner laughed throatily. “ You’re a queer case, Cotter,” the warden said impulsively. “We get all kinds in a place like this, but you’re different than any I’ve ever seen. We’d never know we had you here if you weren’t in the count three times a day.” “I’ll not make trouble, Mr Warden,” Cotter said slowly. “ I’m glad. It’s a pretty useless business, trying to run counter to prison rules. But you’re utterly crushed,

Cotter. God alone knows what you’re thinking about twenty-four hours each day. There are lights in your eyes but they never flame into words. You are an educated man; cultured, in fact, and intelligent. Your silence makes us wonder if you aren’t planning an escape.” Again Cotter laughed—that throaty, husky laugh that is born of disused vocal cords. He ran his tongue over his lips and slowly whirled his blue prison cap between his white fingers. “ I wouldn’t escape, Mr Warden,” he said steadily. “ The last thing on earth I’d do is to leave here, sir. I wouldn’t go if you left every gate open the year round. This place is not a prison to me, sir. It’s a haven.”

“I’m inclined to believe you,” the official nodded frankly. “As a usual thing, Cotter, a man is never himself while he carries in his heart a black secret. Sharing it with somebody relievesthe burden and assists in restoring him to normal. If you ever reach the point where you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

Cotter nodded gratefully, but held his peace. “ We’ll wait a few months,” the warden repeated, “ about this money matter. In the meantime, you can sign an order authorising us to charge the extras to your account here.” “ Thank you, sir.” Cotter stepped through the side door of the warden’s office into the prison yard. Kelsh watched him as he walked slowly toward the library, where he was assigned to duty. The warden had watched many a lifer survive the first few terrible months of hopelessness, finally to recover some poise and interest. But never had there been one like Cotter. This man lived only for death.

More than two years slipped away before the demands of the law required a decision in the matter of Cotter’s money. Then the prisoner met again with the warden. Kelsh loked the man over with deep interest. He had aged, yet a light of contentment filled his face and eyes. “We’ve got to settle this money business, Cotter,” the official said brisklv. “ You’ll have to make your wishes known in the matter.”

“ I specify, Mr Warden,” the prisoner said slowly, “ that it be invested under the direction of a proper trust com pany, and the entire income from the fund be spent monthly to furnish prisoners with the extras allowable by law.” “That’s pretty decent of you,” Kelsh said, surprised at the ready answer. “ I’ll have papers for you to sign shortly.”

“Very well, sir.” “ By the way,” the warden called as Cotter- turned to leave, “ how’re you doing over in the library ? ” “ I like the work, Mr Warden,” Cotter answered thoughtfully. “ There are many of the boys here who cannot read well. They do not get the sense of a book. I am reading to them and explaining what I read.”

He paused a moment, spun his cap between his fingers and said, “ Perhaps that is the new interest you said would come to rile, sir. I have made some wonderful friends. There are some fine men here in prison, sir.” ~ “You wouldn’t want to try your hand at a different job ? ” the warden asked. A light of concern filled Cotter’s eyes. “ I’d rather not, sir,” he said slowly. “ I like the work there. I do my best. You’ll find the books clean, sir, and well cared for.”

“ Oh, I wouldn’t move you if you didn’t want to go,” Kelsh assured him quickly. “ I just thought—well—maybe a change now and then.” “ I love birds and flowers, sir,” Cotter said simply. “ There are several bird books there which I can study. Some on flowers, too.” “ Well, maybe we can work it out to use some of this money of yours to get better books on those subjects,” the warden suggested.

“ If you would, sir—for the library, understand, I’d love them.” When Cotter had gone the warden sent for the head keeper. “ What,” he asked that officer, “ do you make of this natural lifer, Cotter? He appears to be an educated man and a smart one. Have we anything to fear from him? ”

The head keeper smiled. “I’d send him on outside errands, as far as any danger of his crashing out goes,” he said. “He wouldn’t go if we let him, warden! ”

The head of the prison smiled- understandingly. “That’s the way I figured it,” he admitted. “ A, fine fellow, Jim One of those cases where there ain’t any more criminal in the man than there is in you or me. Maybe ; not half so much.” “ His was an emotional crime,” the head keeper nodded. “ There was no

reason attached to it. He just found himself swept off his feet at the same time a gun happened to be handy. Probably half an hour later he wouldn’t have killed an ant.”

“ Make him a trusty,” the warden ordered. “He rates it now, doesn’t he ? ”

“ Yes, sir. I’4 have recommended it, warden, in another month or so. He does a great job in the library. The boys all swear by him. Some time you ought to stand around and hear him read to a flock of gunmen, then stop and explain the finer meanings of what he’s read. It’s a treat!”

“ Well, make him a trusty,” the warden smiled, “ and since he’s crazy about flowers, see if he can do anything to that flower bed outside my porch. Nobody else ever made anything grow in it.”

So, for more than another year, Kelsh grew accustomed to seeing Cotter working outside his porch. Now and then he stopped and passed the time of day with him.

Now and then he stopped and passed the time of day with him. Cotter was always pleasant. “ I’m afraid,” he said one day, “ that you’re getting discouraged with' my efforts here in the garden, AL- Warden. But it’ll take a year or so to show good results. The ground was exhausted, Mr Warden. No one ever rotated the plantings here.” “ Can’t w e send out for some better soil? ” the warden asked.

A lopk of delight crossed the lifer’s features. “ You could very easily, sir. Any good florist could supply you.” So eager was the man that Kelsh’s heart warmed towards him. “ I’ll send in a florist,” he promised. “Y’ou talk it over with him and tell him just what vou want.”

And he kept that promise. The florist was a man known to the warden, and after he had talked with Cotter he returned to the warden’s office. “ Who is that prisoner ? ” he asked. “ A, natural lifer,” the warden smiled “ Cotter’s the name. Murdered his wife. “It don’t seem possible,” the florist marvelled. “ Honestly, warden, that man knows more about flowers than I do myself. I’m sending in the stuff he wants, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to follow him up and see what results he gets.” “ Sure thing,” the warden smiled. “ He’s a nice fellow, Cotter is. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” A big prison is a busy and an uncertain place. As a result, for those who direct its activities, time passes rapidly. Kelsh grew accustomed to seeing Cotter there in the garden. The prisoner had aged inexpressibly, but all men do in prison. The bleakness of outlook or, as in Cotter’s case, the utter lack of it, doubles the weight of the tread of time. But it does not retard its passing. The flower garden not only bloomed to the everlasting delight of the warden’s wife, but it enlarged. The warden’s porch was redolent with the aroma of flowers. Cotter was allowed more and more liberties, and several times, when he was making tours of inspection, the warden came upon the man in various parts of the prison grounds. “What’re you doing over here, Cotter ? ” he asked of him one day. The convict smiled doubtfully and answered. “It’s pretty bare over here, Mr Warden. I thought a few flowers—the boys can see ’em better and oftener.”

Cotter had been in the prison five years before there was anything unusual in his conduct. He had become a sort

of fixture. The head keeper admitted that, the man had twice been allowed outside the walls without the usual prison guard with him. And then Cotter began acting queerly. He was suddenly more thoughtful than ever. At times when the warden passed him the man seemed on the verge of speaking. That went on for a week, h inally the warden spoke to him onp day as he stood on the porch of his home while the convict worked in the garden below him.

Cotter,” the official said suddenly, “ what’s bothering you? Sick, are you? ” The man straightened and looked intently at the warden for a moment; then he dropped his trowel suddenly into the dirt and walked on to the porch. “ I ve been trying to get the courage to talk to you, Mr Warden,” he said tensely. “ I want to tell you something in confidence, and I don’t know how to do it.”

“ Something about the prison, Cotter? ” the warden asked, mystified. “ Indirectly, yes, sir.” “ There isn’t a man inside that doesn’t trust you,” the official muttered. “If any one knows things, it would be you.” “I never violate a trust, sir,” Cotter assured him. “ I’rii not —not a stool, Mr Warden.” The warden smiled and nodded. “ Well,” he said, “ you can talk to me any time, Cotter.” “ I would have to trust you a great deal, Mr Warden.” ‘ Come into the office,” the official suggested and led the way. Cotter stood respectfully before the desk as the warden seated himself. “ Now shoot,” the officer smiled. “ I’d like to have your sacred promise, Air Warden,” Cotter said diffidently, “ that you’ll not use the information I give you for ” “Hold on a minute!” the official interrupted vehemently. “We can’t go any farther along that line, Cotter. I’m not making promises of that nature to —to ” “ Convicts.” Cotter furnished the word with a faint smile wreathing his lips. “ I had that in mind,” he nodded. “ I can quite understand. But you see —an injustice is being done, Air Warden. The rankest injustice possible. And I’m the only man who can stop it.” “ You’ll have to make up your own mind,” the warden said brusquelv, “ about talking to me. I’ll have to be the judge of what use I make of any information you give. I’m not going to urge you with promises I might later regret.” Cotter thought at some length. Then he asked, “ Would you permit me the writing of one uncensored letter, sir? One letter that no one ever will read but the man to whom I send it? ” “ I’m sorry,” Kelsh answered, “ I cannot agree to that either, Cotter.” “It makes it so hard,” Cotter complained gently. But he stood still there before the desk, his mind hard at work, his words a matter of the most careful selection. At last he said, “ Would it be possible for me to tell you something and not have to answer questions about identity?” “ You mean,” Kelsh asked, “ tell me something that happened, or is going to happen, here in the prison, then be immune to questioning?” “ Yes, sir. Something that did happen, sir. Several months ago.” “ I will not commit myself, Cotter,” the warden insisted. “ I won’t lie to you, old man. If I see it as my duty to use anything you tell me, I’m going to use it. I’m not going to insist that you tell -me. But I am insisting that I remain the sole .judge of my own course afterward. I owe that to the job. You understand that, I’m sure! ” Cotter was getting desperate. He wet his lips and glanced about the room. Finally he burst out:

“ There’s a man in the city being held for robbery,” he said shortly. “ His name is Alartin, Air Warden. Roger Martin. He’s charged with robbing the offices of a big theatre. The whole thing is in the newspapers along with a picture of the man himself. That’s how I know all about it. That man is innocent. I know he is. I want to get word to Henry Suntly.” “ You mean Henry Suntly, the district attorney?” Kelsh interrupted. “ Yes,” Cotter nodded. The warden thought matters over with a queer expression on his face. After a moment he asked, " What attention would Suntly give to a message from you ? ” “ Suntly will listen to a message from me,” Cotter answered slowly. “ Do you know him ? ” “ Yes, Air Warden. I know him. I know Henry Suntly. I—l grew up wit’a him.” “Is that so ? I’m surprised to hear that. But tell me, Cotter, do you know this man Alartin who is accused of the robbery ? ” - “I never saw him in my life,” Cotter answered steadily. “ But I know he isn’t guilty, and I believe that Suntly is out to convict him. I read it all in the papers—what Alartin said about his own innocence, and the public promise Suntly has made to clean up the town. He’s making an example of Martin, Air Warden. Alaking an example of an innocent man.” “ How could you possibly know that, Cotter ? ” the warden asked. “ You’ve been cooped up here for five years.” “Yes, sir. But I know! ” In his earnestness. Cotter leaned over the desk and pressed hi s tense face close to that of the warden. “I know, sir,” he repeated. “ I know 1 I know 1 ”

“ How do you know? ” Kelsh snapped; “ Because I' heard the crime planned Tight here within these walls! ” Cotter rasped hoarsely. “Knowing who did it, Mr Warden, I know who didn’t do it! ” Kelsh rose abruptly from his seat and braced his fingertips on the edge of the desk. He returned Cotter’s steady gaze. “You know full well what you’re saying?” he demanded. “As God is my judge,” Cotter answered simply. “ And the message you would send Suntly is what?” Kelsh asked. “ Just-what I have told you, sir—that I know this Martin is innocent because I know who is guilty. There were two ©f the robbers and the newspaper accounts of the crime tally exactly with the plan I heard perfected. here in this prison before the men were liberated. Martin had nothing to do with it.” “ Suntly’ll never believe you,” the warden grunted. “ He’ll pay no attention to your story.” “ Suntly will believe me,” Cotter snapped. There was fight in his face, for the first time since he had donned his suit of blue. “He will, Mr Warden. He’s got to! Tell him I sent the message, Mr Warden. Say this to him: ‘Cotter knows Martin is innocent. And he knows many other things.’ Tell him I warn him not to convict Martin. Tell him that in those very words, Mr Warden.” “Arc you out of your head?” Kelsh gasped. “ Who are you to send such a message to the district attorney ? Do you know that Henry Suntly is the biggest political figure in the State? He can be Governor if he likes.” “ Tell him wha£ I say,” Cotter repeated steadily. “ Please tell him, Mr Warden. I know who he is. I know what he is too. That’s how I know he’ll believe me. Let him be Governor if he likes. But deliver my message or have an innocent man sent up here to worry your heart out for five or ten years. I’ve told you the gospel truth, Mr Warden. The responsibility is yours.” There was no doubting Cotter. He spoke with the ring of truth in his voice. The warden paused, trying to assemble these amazing facts in his mind. After a time he demanded:

“ Who were the two men who planned this thing?” Cotter pressed his lips into a straight line. His eyes blazed scorn of the question. “ You’ll be apt to lose your flower work unless you tell,” Kelsh said, his eyes narrowly watching the convict. The face of the man blanched, and a queer sound struggled into being but died in his throat. He pulled his blue cap taut between his fingers, then said slowly, “ I’d boil in hell, Mr Warden, before I answered you that.” “ I’d be the same way in your place,” the Warden said as though thinking aloud. Then, “Go ahead, Cotter, with those roses at the far end of the porch. I make you this promise: “I’ll tell Suntly personally all that you have told me. If he insists on questioning you later that’s not my fault.” A smile of delight spread over the convict’s pale face. “ Thank you, Mr Warden. . Deliver my message exactly as I told it, please. Be exact, and Suntly won’t bother me.” Then he was gone through the door on to the porch. It was the visit of a horticulturist which served once again to break the commonplace relationship between Kelsh and Cotter. The display which Cotter was able to offer in the prison flower beds roused tremendous interest. A horticultural society sent a representative who asked that Cotter might write an article for their magazine. Kelsh found no regulation which prevented such a procedure, and he promptly granted the permission. Cotter just as promptly declined to do it. “ You cannot understand the matter,” he told the visitor, “ but the world outside this prison has ceased to exist for me. One memory of it I treasure. There is no other interest left me. 1 live tor my flower beds here and want no contact with the world. It never did anything but lie to me.” Nothing could induce him to change his decision, but he had no hesitancy about talking flowers with the visitor, and the warden allowed pictures to be taken of the amazing results Cotter had attained in his circumscribed prison field. “ You disappointed that fellow, Cotter,” the warden said, when finally the horticulturist had left. “He wanted to use your name over an article of your own.” Cotter smiled wanly and shrugged an answer. “By the way, Cotter,” the warden continued, “ your prophecy about Henry Suntly came true. I delivered your message exactly as you requested. He seemed to understand, asked how you were and told me he would immediately look into the matter of the Roger Martin case. “ I presume, inasmuch as I have never heard of a trial, that he found you to be right and liberated Martin.” “ Yes,” the convict said, “he found me to be right and liberated Martin. It was the only just thing to do. I watched the papers closely and saw that the indictment against the fellow had been nolle pressed.”

“What a break for him!” Kelsh said. “ For all you know he’ll never have the faintest idea that you are the man who saved him.” " That is a small matter.” Cotter said pin., s- « v bkn f n hf>ve the knowledge that I did the right thing. I like to t. .mil thought to my cell with me at night.” ■

I “I can understand that,” Kelsh agreed. “ And say, why is it, if you don’t mind telling me, that there are never flowers in your cell ? You love them so much,” “A cell is not a thing of beauty,” Cotter said simply. “ The man who said that all beauty is sheer contrast with-the ugly never lived in a prison cell, Mr Warden. A flower is a line, beautiful, living thing. It would wither in no time in a prison cell.” “In some ways,” the warden said, with the utter frankness that official position affects towards State wards, “you’re just as balmy as a coot.” “Perhaps so,” Cotter nodded agreeably. “ But I’m happy in it.” “Happy?” Kelsh queried sharply. “ Exactly.” Cotter nodded vigorously. “ I’m a very much happier man than you are, Mr Warden. My only recollection of the outside world is a happy one. I found a very beautiful thing out there, sir. I took it for what I thought it to be. The fact that it was imitation did not prevent its showing ne what the genuine could be.” “You’re getting prettv deep for me,” Kelsh grinned. “ Those books you read are pretty heavy Stuff. But I’m glad that you’re settled and happy. The thought struck me the day I talked with Suntly that the contrast between you two boyhood friends had suddenly grown pretty sharp. He’s a big public servant and you—well—you see what I mean.” “ I see perfectly,” Cotter nodded. “ But I would rather have a bed than the bunk or any other man on earth, Mr Warden. Everything in my thoughts is beautiful. I would rather have a bed than a bunk

I sleep in, but I’ll gladly sleep in the bunk in order to remain here with my flowers,” he smiled. Kelsh seemed for the moment serious. “Yoq know. Cotter,” he said speculatively, “'I get a real thrill out of the situation you and Suntly present. The business of justice being directed by a murderer doing natural life, through a powerful district attorney who dangles on the end of a string the lifer pulls, is an unusual picture, indeed.” “ I had the truth, that’s all,” the prisoner answered, but as he spoke he became uneasy and turned away. The warden detained him. „ “ I’m not going to question you against your will, old man,” he assured hint “ but I’ve given the matter quite a little thought. You’ve been here a long time now, Cotter. A long time even as time in prison goes. I’ve grown to like you and trust you, but I’ve never even hoped to understand you. You don’t seem morose, yet your crime, Cotter, is the sort that is apt to prey upon a man’s mind as the years roll past.” “I committed no crime, Mr Warden,” the convict answered steadily. “ What I did was anything but a crime.” “You’ve always admitted the killing of your wife! ” Kelsh gasped. “Oh, yes! But you see that, only from the material side. If I thought I had done wrong I would be miserable,” Cotter answered. Kelsh laughed and shook his head. “ I suppose men are differently built,” he mused. “Now, if I had known you on the outside I would have sized you up as a man of ambition. Your record shews that you were successful in business.” He paused to allow time for an answer, but Cotter made none. The official continued: “I would have thought you’d be like your friend, Suntly. He always reaches .out for more power. I have it straight that his party is urging him to run for governor. If he runs he’ll win.” The warden paused again, and his eyes fixed themselves steadily upon Cotter. There was tremendous suggestion in the glancq, but the-convict met it with no sign of understanding.

“All politicians would like to be governor,” Kelsh prompted. Cotter merely nodded in the affirmative and again turned as though he would leave. Once again Kelsh stopped him. “It’s pretty evident,” he said, “that you’ve a lot of weight with Henry Suntly. I’ve been thinking what a situation would arise if he were governor. It might mean a pardon for you, Cotter.” “No,” the convict said slowly. “No, Mr \\ arden, it wouldn’t mean a pardon.”

Kelsh shrugged. “ Well, keep vour secret if you like,” he said. “ But I’ll watch with a good deal of interest. .Suntly, my friend, is the next governor of this State just as sure as you’re a foot high. I have never before known a case where the governor was under the thumb of a natural lifer. It’ll be fun to watch.” Cotter made no reply, and the warden smiled wondeiingly. “All right, Cotter,” he said. “Go back to your flowers. Every man has a right to his own thoughts.” “Thank you, Air Warden,” Cotter mumbled. “The finest thing you have ever done wa s to give me these flowers. I love them. sir. Life would be unbearable without them. I will always be happy so long as I have them.” “ Okay, old man,” Kelsh answered kindly. “ I guess I needn’t tell you that you’ll have them as long as I’m warden here.” “ 1 hope that’ll be as long as vou wish sir.”

“It’s got to last quite a while,” Kelsh laughed. “ What good would a be for anything else at this late day?” Henry Suntly conducted his campaign for the governorship of the State along the lines of reform. He laid a heavy hand upon corruptionists, trained the light of his investigations upon State institutions of all kinds, and carried to the people of the electorate a conviction that such a man as himself was needed at the helm of State affairs. Kelsh read every campaign speech the man made, and he wondered more and more about the strange relationship between this outstanding public man and Cotter, the natural lifer who worked in his garden. He knew without asking that Cotter was following the campaign with an interest even closer than his own. But he never spoke to the man of it; never tried to make the convict express an opinion. When election day rolled around Kelsh received the returns at the prison. The campaign had centred very largely upon issues of reform in State institutions, and the keepers of the prison, from the warden down, felt a, greater interest than usual. The feeling was general that Suntly’s election would call for sweeping investigations and many changes in methods. Many of the prison employees gathered in the offices and watched the returns on election night. By 10 o’clock the big metropolitan daily that had most bitterly opposed Suntly conceded his election as governor. Kelsh received the news with mingled emotions. None knew better than he the dire results of an inexperienced hand endeavouring to change the routine of a prison. Yet, in spite of that, his first thought on reading of the election of Suntly -was not of the prison and the troubles that must come to it. It was of the silent natural lifer, Cotter. Actuated by he hardly knew what, the warden stepped from his office out into the prison yard and strolled toward the cell block where Cotter was locked. He nodded to the guards as he entered.

M here s Cotter?” he asked of one of them. *’ “Number seventeen, sir,” the man directed. The lights were out, but Kelsh walked on to the door of Cotter’s cell. The prisoner was reclining on his narrow bunk, but as Kelsh stopped he rose to a sitting position, swung his feet to the floor and s<x ‘PP e( l to the door. “ Cotter,” Kelsh said softly, ‘f you awake?” J J “Yes, Air Warden.” “Suntly’s elected,” Kelsh said slowly. Yes, sir,” Cotter acknowledged 'aguely. Yes, sir. Was there anything special about it, Air Warden?” ' Kelsh was embarrassed. He felt a little ridiculous standing there reportin" tlm election of a Governor to an inmate. No,” he said. “ No.* Nothing special’ Cotter. Only, I happened to have business in this block and 1 thought I’d let you know. It might be very important for you later on.” “Thank you, Air Warden,” the prisoner said dully. “ I do thank you, sir.” “ He’s out to raise hob with State institutions,” Kelsh said. “ That’s been his campaign, and he’ll have to make a showing at it. I suppose nobody’ll know where his hammer’ll fall next. But we’ll hope for the best. Good night. Cotter.” “ Good night, Air Warden.” For months afterwards the picture of Cotter that came first to the official’s mind was that which he saw as he turned away. The gaunt figure of the man standing behind the steel lattice of his cell door. The shock of tousled hair that framed his steady, serious eves, the ridiculous prison underwear that bagged at elbows and knees and drooped away from his throat. Dejection and defeat stood out all oyer that broken creature. Yet in his big eyes dwelt contentment and a definite hdppiness. 'The very simplicity of his glance was power in itself. Henry Suntly was not long in making his inauguration felt in State institutions. He appointed a committee

which, in turn, appointed inspectors and detailed them for investigation. The heavy hand of politics fell upon Warden Kelsh and his organisation. Like the man he was, he fought against it. Soon friction developed, and it was rumoured that Kelsh was at variance with the Administration. Suntly was asked about this, and stated flatly that he expected the warden to comply with his economy and efficiency programmes, and if the warden did not see his way clear to do it he would accept his resignation. The record of the prison, however, was well known. Friends of the warden started a fight of their own to protect his rights. This brought matters to a head and focused attention upon the two principals. One or the other of them must relent, and all agreed that it could not well be the Governor. And that was what caused Cotter, the silent natural lifer, to explain- at last that simple .sentence which had been his only defense for the killing of his wife. The man had-had no im tention of talking until he read in the papers that Suntly and his assistants had definitely asked the resignation of the warden.;* f When • Cotter read that one night in his cell his -heart tripped in its beating. : y" ■ ' . He sent for Kelsh, and the warden responded to his request. The official had altered a great deal.; Lines were deep about his mouth and a haggard look filled.his eyes., “ If- you will do as I say, Air Warden,” the convict said simply, “I will put an end to this business.” A look of keen surprise crossed the warden’s features. He held out his hand to the prisoner through the steel lattice. “ You’re a mighty white citizen, Cotter,” Kelsh said. “ I’m proud to have you for my friend. I know you’ve a good deal of power with Suntly, but you’ll need that for your own ends. I’ll not, for the sake of a job, jeopardise your chances of a pardon and a new lease bn life.”

Dully, with the air of a man who hag no hope of being understood, Cotter answered, “ Please do as I eay. I want you to remain here at the prison, Air Warden. Y r ou want to remain too. I know because you’ve told me so yourse '■ ,P° aa I sa Y- I’ nl not jeopardizing myself a single jot. I swear it on my honour.” J The stark drama of the statement was augmented because the words were uttered with absolutely nothing of emphasis or doubt or affectation. ° “ Go now, the convict said, “ and get Henry Suntly on the telephone. Tell him this: 'Come to the prison personally at once. Jonothan Cotter demands it. Say that, Air Warden, and nothing more. The Governor will come.” “That’s pretty stiff, Cotter,” Kelsh said doubtfully. "“Henry Suntly is a big man.” “ Tell him,” Cotter repeated quietly. “Tell him exactly what I tell vou. That and nothing more. And go now, sir. If there is trouble in reaching him on the telephone use my name and make the demand clear.” And Kelsh, hopelessly defeated in his own battle, carried out the instructions. In half an hour he was back again before Cotter s cell door. He whispered his* words, but peering eves from a hundred latticed cells looked on in flaming curiosity. “ I got him,” Kelsh whispered. “ Heaven only knows what you’ve got up your sleeve, Cotter, but it’s potent. I talked to Suntly myself. I told him your exact words, and he’ll be here to-morrow. He 11 motor to the prison, arriving during the afternoon. Y’ou’ll want to see him, of course.” “ Yes,” the convict nodded. “ Yes, I’ll want to see him. It will be strange after all these years, Air Warden. Henry and I will have changed a whole lot.” They met in the room reserved for the use of the Parole Board. The Governor was the more nervous of the two. He paced the floor while a guard went for Cotter, and when the man was z* c- TA-. -V-.-O&M

brought in he gasped at his first sight of him. “ I’m sorry, John,’’ he said stammeringly. “ Sorry to find you like this.” He glanced suggestively at the warden, who started toward the door. Cotter put out a detaining hand. “ I want the warden to stay, Henry,” he said quietly. “ Y’ou need offer me no sympathy. I’m the happiest man in the world.” There was a moment of embarrassed silence during which the convict seemed to realise that restricted use of words had left him partially inarticulate. “ I came to see you,” Suntly said, “ because tiie warden requested it.” “ The warden demanded it,” Cotter corrected steadily. “ I want you to know that there is nothing I want for myself from you. I demand only that you allow the warden to remain here in charge, of the prison as long as you are Governor.” “That’s going a little far,” Suntly said slowly. “ After all, I’m Governor of this State, and must think first of the people who elected me. I have not been entirely satisfied with the reports that come.to me.” “Stop!” Cotter snapped suddenly. He stood in the centre of the room, with his baggy clothes hanging about his person and his untidy hair a mat upon his head. But there was power about him. “.I say. Henry Suntly,” he pronounced slowly, “ that you will do as I ask. I am going to tell you something you never knew—something that you only suspected —something which has hung over your hchd all these years.” “ Your own case,” Suntly interrupted hastily, “ has been in my mind, John. I had thought of considering a pardon. After all—an actress ” “ Do not stop me, Henry,” Cotter said. “ I want no pardon from you, nor from anybody. I got you here to tell you the truth. You and the warden.. For her sake, I never have told it before.” He paused as though gathering his words, then leaned for support upon a chair, and, with his eyes fastened steadily upon the Governor, told his story. So simple and so stark was it that they did not interrupt him.

“ That day,” he said, “ when the pistol came so ready to my hand, Henry—you don’t know what was to have happened later. You don’t know that Sunny, as we always called her, was going to you. She had been with you before, Henry. You had both lied to me about that.

“ And that pistol—she had that, Henry.” He laughed shortly. “ She was taking it with her to kill you ! “ We were all so young then, and she was so inexperienced. I find no fault with you now. I merely state the facts. She had trusted you, Henry, and you lied to her. as she did to me. Then you scorned her. I know’, Henry ! Oh, how well I know ! You wrote her that letter. I remember every word of it. I see it now.” He raised a gaunt hand stained deep with the colour of earth and seemed to point at the letter there before him. He was transported by his own story back to the hour of his crime. “ I came home earlier than usual,” he said slowly. “ Sunny was just leaving, and I knew’ that something was wrong. Her eyes were wild and she cringed before me. afraid. She tried to slip past me and reach the door. 1 caught her hand, and the bag she carried jerked open. The pistol was there. It was the first thing I saw’, and 1 snatched it from the bag in amazement. Sunny fought me to get it back. “ She was quite insane, I think. She taunted me with her own deceit —and yours. Then she hurled the letter at me. It fell at my feet, and I read it, with the gun clutched in one hand and Sunny twisting there on the divan. “ You told her she was a fool, Henry. A fool to bother you and run the risk of losing a husband who could provide well for her, and hadn’t brains enough to see that he had no other function. You said to her, Henry, that she wasn’t the kind of a woman a man could take seriously. Then you asked her to be sensible and burn the letter and let you alone.’ Once again Cotter stopped. Ilis face was twisted and his eyes burned with a dull agony that held the others speechless. “ A sordid mess, eh, Henry ? ” he sneered finally. “ You never knew 7 1 saw the letter, perhaps. You thought that Sunny had done as you wished with it, and I had discovered another intrigue in her life, and so killed her. “ But you never were quite certain. There remained always a doubt in your mind. The bigger you grew, Henry, the more this worried you. Now you have the truth. I shot her because she loved you, Henry. Loved you and hated you and sooner or later would have killed you. “ I loved her. So I killed her and kept her name clean. It was for her I did it, just as I said that day when she lay there before me. I hated you—hale you now as a man hates a creeping thing, Henry. But you were both very young. “ They found the gun in my hand, Henry—but not the letter. Where is the letter?” He laughed sharply, his voice high and threatening to crack. “ Where is it? They never found that.” His gaunt hands gripped the chair and he leaned forward and glared. “ I —know—where—it is,” he said, spacing each word. “ I know where to get it and hand it to the newspapers, Henry, with the signature of their Reform Governor blazed across its face.” He laughed again. “ Yes,” he repeated, “ I know where it is, and so does the warden. We alone know.

“ Tell me, now,” he finished suddelv, “ that the warden remains here. Tell me that, Henry. And tell him. And tell this committee of yours, and the newspapers.” The next day Warden Kelsh stood again on the porch above the garden and looked down upon the stooping brown figure there at work among the flowers. “ I see by the morning papers, Cotter,” he said, “ that the fight between the Governor and myself has come to a happy ending. According to this account his visit yesterday was made for the sole purpose of checking up on the situation here. What he saw caused him to express complete confidence in my incorruptible efficiency.” “ Yes, sir,” the convict nodded, a faint smile about his lips. “ I’m so glad, Mr Warden.” “ There’s no reason,” the official said, “ why your ease shouldn’t be brought before him.” “ But there is, Mr Warden,” Cotter said earnestly. “As God above judges me, there is. I want no pardon. I want to remain here, sir. Here I have found the simple things that never fail a man. Here, among the flowers, I have found peace and happiness and quiet. If you are my friend, there will never be a pardon, sir.” “I can understand that feeling,” Kelsh nodded. “ I know of at lyasr three men here who would not go. You are the fourth. They have been here so long, you see. But with your education —your background ” “ Here I stay,” Cotter said simply. “ I have no worries now. I’m settled for life. I want no change. What others think is hard I have come to accept with no suffering. My books and my flowers are my own. The confinement of prison is a protection more than a curse to me, sir. If it keeps me away from society, so does it keep society away from me. The restrictions I have ceased to mind. They are less hard than what I should have to meet on the outside as a pardoned murderer.” ,

4< As you wish. But lam your friend, Cotter. Your real friend.” “I thank you, Mr Warden.” They stood looking at each other a moment. “ Life is a queer game,” Kelsh shrugged at last. “ I guess, after all, a man can’t deal anything but the cards given him to play with.” Cotter smiled faintly and nodded. “ That letter,” Kelsh said at last. “ That one of Suirtly’s which you kept. How did you hide it, or, having hidden it. how did you get it out of the apartment, Cotter, before coming up here?” The gardener straightened and a smile twisted at his lips. “ That letter,” lie said, “ I burned, Mr Warden, before the’, found me standing over Sunny. I burned it in the fireplace and ground the ashes under my heel. I had to do that to protect her. But I knew that Henry Suntly would b« afraid to challenge me. A man who is a. coward with a woman is doubly so with a man.” “ He’s a smart politician, Cotter,’ Kelsh said sagely. “ He’s due for eight years in office, so we’ve little enough to worry us. But. as you say, he’s certainly a coward. He knows nothing of the sort of courage you showed in sharing the secret you've kept inviolate until' its telling would help a friend.” Cotter turned silently away and bent again to his work. It was as though he buried there in the earth the secret which he finally had shared, and that secret took root and blossomed and made a flowerbed.