g with joy after reading it, as my mind once more became occupied
with thoughts of the splendid character whom I had so ardently loved,
but shamefully deserted in New York three months previously. I made up
my mind to return and ask his forgiveness, and then join him in his
praiseworthy labors of uplifting mankind. Oh! what happiness I
experienced during the next few days in anticipation of seeing him again
and hearing his manly voice. But alas, how little we know what sorrows
are in store for us! The steamer arrived at her wharf at ten o'clock
this morning, and a few minutes later. I was seated in a carriage
speeding along in the direction of the Waldoria Hotel. At forty minutes
past ten I inquired of the clerk for John Convert. Then came the
appalling information that he was to be electrocuted at noon for the
murder of Arletta Fogg. The rest seems like an awful nightmare. Getting
a schedule of trains for Sing Sing, I rushed outside the hotel, and,
jumping in the first cab I saw, handed the driver a roll of bills, and
told him they were all his if he could get me to the depot in time to
catch the eleven o'clock train. Through the streets like mad we whirled,
and, reaching the station, I quickly alighted and ran to the ticket
office, and from there to the train, which I boarded just as it started
away. It was an express, which made no stops before reaching Sing Sing,
and was due there at exactly twelve o'clock, the time set for the
electrocution. I told the conductor that I would give him a million
dollars if he would land me in Sing Sing fifteen minutes ahead of time,
but he apparently thought I was insane, and paid no attention to my
frantic entreaties to go faster. To make matters worse, the train
arrived five minutes late, but, hoping against hopes, I got into a
carriage and was driven to the prison.

"Here the attendants thought I was crazy, as I rushed into the reception
room, crying out to stop the electrocution, and they would not permit me
to see the Warden, who was in his private office. Hearing my cries,
however, the Warden came out to see what was the trouble, and as quickly
as possible I explained to him the circumstances surrounding the murder
of Arletta Fogg, and showed him the written confession of Edward
Convert. He read just enough to make sure he was right, and then with an
exclamation of horror he rushed out of the office, followed by me.
Through grated doors, long, dismal corridors, and a court-yard,