The Wild Olive | Page 7

Ford needed in order to get his wits into
play.
"No," he replied, slowly; "I've a right to protection from the man who
sentenced me to death for a crime of which he knows me innocent."
Wayne concealed a start by smoothing the newspaper over his crossed
knees, but he was unable to keep a shade of thickness out of his voice
as he answered:

"You had a fair trial. You were found guilty. You have had the benefit
of all the resources allowed by the law. You have no right to say I
know you to be innocent."
Wholly spent, Ford dropped into a chair from which one of the children
had risen. With his arm hanging limply over the back he sat staring
haggardly at the judge, as though finding nothing to say.
"I have a right to read any man's mind," he muttered, after a long pause,
"when it's as transparent as yours. No one had any doubt as to your
convictions--after your charge."
"That has nothing to do with it. If I charged in your favor, it was
because I wanted you to have the benefit of every possible plea. When
those pleas were found insufficient by a jury of your peers--"
Ford emitted a sound that might have been a laugh, had there been
mirth in it.
"A jury of my peers! A lot of thick-headed country tradesmen,
prejudiced against me from the start because I'd sometimes kicked up a
row in their town! They weren't my peers any more than they were
yours!"
"The law assumes all men to be equal--"
"Just as it assumes all men to be intelligent--only they're not. The law is
a very fine theory. The chief thing to be, said against it is that five
times out of ten it leaves human nature out of account. I'm condemned
to death, not because I killed a man, but because you lawyers won't
admit that your theory doesn't work."
He began to speak more easily, with the energy born of his desperate
situation and his sense of wrong. He sat up straighter; the air of
dejection with which he had sunk to the chair slipped from him; his
gray eyes, of the kind called "honest," shot out glances of protest. The
elder man found himself once more struggling against the wave of
sympathy which at times in the court-room had been almost too strong

for him. He was forced to intrench himself mentally within the system
he served before bracing himself to reply.
"I can't keep you from having your opinion--"
"Nor can I save you from having yours. Look at me, judge!" He was
bolt upright now, throwing his arms wide with a gesture in which there
was more appeal than indignation "Look at me! I'm a strong,
healthy-bodied, healthy-minded fellow of twenty-four; but I'm
drenched to the skin, I'm half naked, I'm nearly dead with hunger, I'm
an outlaw for life--and you're responsible for it all."
It was Wayne's turn for protest, and though he winced, he spoke
sharply.
"I had my duty to perform--"
"Good God, man, don't sit there and call that thing your duty! You're
something more than a wheel in a machine. You were a human being
before you were a judge. With your convictions you should have come
down from the bench and washed your hands of the whole affair. The
very action would have given me a chance--"
"You mustn't speak like that to my husband," Mrs. Wayne broke in,
indignantly, from the doorway. "If you only knew what he has suffered
on your account--"
"Is it anything like what I've suffered on his?"
"I dare say it's worse. He has scarcely slept or eaten since he knew he
would have to pass that dreadful sen--"
"Come! come!" Wayne exclaimed, in the impatient tone of a man who
puts an end to a useless discussion. "We can't spend time on this
subject any longer. I'm not on my defence--"
"You are on your defence," Ford declared, instantly. "Even your wife
puts you there. We're not in a courtroom as we were this morning.

Circumstantial evidence means nothing to us in this isolated house,
where you're no longer the judge, as I'm no longer the prisoner. We're
just two naked human beings, stripped of everything but their inborn
rights--and I claim mine."
"Well--what are they?"
"They're simple enough. I claim the right to have something to eat, and
to go my way without being molested--or betrayed. You'll admit I'm
not asking much."
"You may have the food," Mrs. Wayne said, in a tone not without
compassion. "I'll go and get it."
For a minute or two there was no sound but that of her cough, as she
sped down a passage. Before speaking, Wayne passed his hand