Revenge! | Page 5

leading lawyer
in the place, he saw, with grave apprehension, the light of insanity in
her eyes. Fearful for a breakdown in health, the physicians insisted that
she should walk for a certain time each day, and as she refused to go
outside of the gate, she took her lonely promenade up and down a long
path in the deserted garden. One day she heard a conversation on the
other side of the wall that startled her.
"That is the house," said a voice, "where Forder lives, who was shot by
Walter Radnor. The murder took place just behind this wall."
"Did it really?" queried a second voice. "I suppose Radnor is rather an
anxious man this week."
"Oh," said the first, "he has doubtless been anxious enough all along."
"True. But still if Forder lives the week out, Radnor will escape the
gallows. If Forder were to die this week it would be rather rough on his
murderer, for his case would come up before Judge Brent, who is
known all over the State as a hanging judge. He has no patience with
crimes growing out of politics, and he is certain to charge dead against
Radnor, and carry the jury with him. I tell you that the man in jail will
be the most joyous person in this city on Sunday morning if Forder is
still alive, and I understand his friends have bail ready, and that he will
be out of jail first thing Monday morning."
The two unseen persons, having now satisfied their curiosity by, their
scrutiny of the house, passed on and left Mrs. Forder standing looking
into space, with her nervous hands clasped tightly together.
Coming to herself she walked quickly to the house and sent a
messenger for her brother. He found her pacing up and down the room.

"How is John to-day?" he said.
"Still the same, still the same," was the answer. "It seems to me he is
getting weaker and weaker. He does not recognise me any more."
"What do the doctors say?"
"Oh, how can I tell you? I don't suppose they speak the truth to me, but
when they come again I shall insist upon knowing just what they think.
But tell me this: is it true that if John lives through the week his
murderer will escape?"
"How do you mean, escape?"
"Is it the law of the State that if my husband lives till the end of this
week, the man who shot him will not be tried for murder?"
"He will not be tried for murder," said the lawyer, "but he may not be
tried for murder even if John were to die now. His friends will
doubtless try to make it out a case of manslaughter as it is; or perhaps
they will try to get him off on the ground of self-defence. Still, I don't
think they would have much of a chance, especially as his case will
come before Judge Brent; but if John lives past twelve o'clock on
Saturday night, it is the law of the State that Radnor cannot be tried for
murder. Then, at most, he will get a term of years in a state prison, but
that will not bother him to any great extent. He has a strong political
backing, and if his party wins the next state election, which seems
likely, the governor will doubtless pardon him out before a year is
over."
"Is it possible," cried the wife, "that such an enormous miscarriage of
justice can take place in a State that pretends to be civilised?"
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "I don't bank much on our
civilisation," he said. "Such things occur every year, and many times a
year."
The wife walked up and down the room, while her brother tried to calm

and soothe her.
"It is terrible--it is awful!" she cried, "that such a dastardly crime may
go unavenged!"
"My dear sister," said the lawyer, "do not let your mind dwell so much
on vengeance. Remember that whatever happens to the villain who
caused all this misery, it can neither help nor injure your husband."
"Revenge!" cried the woman, suddenly turning upon her brother; "I
swear before God that if that man escapes, I will kill him with my own
hand!"
The lawyer was too wise to say anything to his sister in her present
frame of mind, and after doing what he could to comfort her he
departed.
On Saturday morning Mrs. Forder confronted the physicians.
"I want to know," she said, "and I want to know definitely, whether
there is the slightest chance of my husband's recovery or not. This
suspense is slowly killing me, and I must know the truth, and I must
know it now."
The physicians looked one at