m to die decently; to meet the inevitable with whatever courage
there was in his soul.

He heard Brockett's familar step and suddenly, intent and listening, he
faced the door; but the deputy came slowly down the corridor and as he
entered the cell, paused, and shook his head.

"No word yet, John," he said regretfully.

"Is the train in?" asked North.

"Yes, Conklin went down to meet it. He's just back; I guess they'll come
on the ten-thirty."

North again turned listlessly toward the window.

"I wouldn't own myself beat yet, John!" said the deputy.

"I've gone down at every crisis! I didn't think the grand jury would
indict me, I didn't think I would be convicted at the trial!" He made a
weary gesture. "What right have I to think they will be able to
influence the governor?"

There was a moment's silence broken by the deputy.

"I'll be outside, and if you want anything, let me know."

It was the death-watch, and poor Brockett was to keep it.

North fell to pacing his narrow bounds. Without, the wind had risen and
presently there came the patter of rain on the roof. Thick darkness
again enveloped the jail yard; and the gallows--his gallows--was no
longer visible. For an hour or more the storm raged and then it passed
as swiftly as it had gathered. Once more he became aware of the
incessant hum of the insect world, and the rustling of the great maples
in the court-house grounds.

As he listened to these sounds, from somewhere off in the distance he
heard the shriek of an engine's whistle. They were coming now if they
came at all! In spite of himself, his hope revived. To believe that they
had failed was out of the question, and the beat of his pulse and the
throb of his heart quickened.

He endured twenty minutes of suspense, then he heard voices; Brockett
threw open the door, and Elizabeth, white-faced and shaking, was before
him.

"John!" she cried, with such anguish that in one terrible instant all
hope went from him.

His soul seemed to stand naked at the very gates of death, and the
vision of his brutal ending came before his burning eyes. Words of
protest trembled on his lips. This endured but for an imperceptible
space of time, and then that larger pity which was not for himself but
for Elizabeth, took him quickly to her side.

"John--" she cried again, and held out her arms.

"Do not speak--I know," he said.

Her head drooped on his shoulder, and her strength seemed to forsake
her.

"I kn