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Show Ihe RETURN WYNDHAM JZP' optoi6ht by qarse & hopkin& W.NU SER.VICE rs"A CHAPTER XII Continued 25 "No, doctor," 1'ayson Grant said. ritb what dignity he could summon. "I am not a murderer. I nm In a very unfortunate position In several ways. Instead of having the sympathy of my friend and nost I am Illegally Imprisoned In that closet and accused of murdering a mac who came to kill me." The doctor glanced at the sheriff. "Doesn't seem quite fair, does Itr" "Let's take a look ot the scene ol the crime," said the voice of authority. He turned to bis deputy. "Keep him here." He turned to the man Id the dressing gown. "You're under arrest. Best keep your mouth shut till .we come down." The deputy sheriff slipped the handcuffs hand-cuffs over Grant's wrists. Grant saw the four men disappear and a great fear settled on him. He shuddered to think at what they must, even now. be looking. Why had he not raised an outcry after the shooting? How Is It they had been out so short a while? He looked at the bovine face of the deputy who was chewing tobacco. to-bacco. "It was Justifiable homicide," he declared. de-clared. "That's what they all say," the deputy murmured, looking Into the Are. Payson Grant gained little solace when the four came downstairs. It was the doctor with the piercing eyes, and direct, embarrassing stare, who assumed the lead in the conversation. None of them paid any attention to the handcuffed man. "One Mint at that -nnge would have stopped him." the doctor declared, "and yet this man pnmped six of them Into his heart. Yon gentlemen are certain you heard no cries for help or no sounds of a struggle?" "I can s-wear to It," Weld declared. "There was neither time for a struggle strug-gle nor for cries." Grant Interrupted. "I'm not a lawyer." said ihe doctor, "but I'm bound to say things don't look well for you, my man. The degree de-gree of premeditation Is a considerable consider-able factor in the consideration of crime." "The premeditation was on Sutton's part, not mine." Grant said eagerly. "That can be proved. Did you take any letters from his pockets?" "There was nothing in any pocket." "My wife read the letters I mean. She'll corroborate them." "I'm afraid," said the doctor, "she won't be able, to aid you materially. What do you think, sheriff?" "It's my belief those letters never had any existence," lie answered. "By the dead man's side I found a cigarette two-thirds smoked. It was of a brand In the silver box which evidently had been on the overturned table. He had been smoking?" Grant remembered that Sutton bad taken one of his cigarettes. "Yes," he said. "And you lighted one a little after he did. Your own was only half smoked. You did smoke, didn't you?" "Yes," Grant admitted. "And you are going to ask a Jury to believe that after sitting down long enough for hlra to smoke two-thirds of a cigarette you suddenly felt Impelled Im-pelled to slay an unarmed man for motives of self-preservation. You have already told us that you had no time for a struggle or even to call to these gentlemen for assistance. I do not think you will find a Jury to cred It what you tell it Few murderers con fess their, guilt, nut most of them take more pains witn their statements that you have done." The sheriff turued to his deputy. "Bring him along. Steve." "Where are yon taking me to?" Grant demanded. "The county lockup," said the deputy. dep-uty. "I suppose I can get you gentlemen any time I want you?" the sheriff inquired. "We shall be on the end of the wire any time you need us," Weld answered. It was into a big, old limousine that they pushed the wretched Grant. He sat between doctor and sheriff; the deputy drove. It was a long trip down the steep grades In the darkness. Grant found himsc'f utterly Ignored. The two men talked across bim continually. con-tinually. They discussed celebrated murder trials with the enthusiasm of Brewster. "My God 1" Grant cried, at last. "Isn't there anything else to talk about?" "Sleep If you don't want to listen." the sheriff said gruffly. The automobile stopped at daybreak day-break at a coffee-wagon outside a town unknown to Grant The three proceeded to drink' hot coffee and munch crullers. "Don't I get any?" Grant asked querulously. He was cold. "I'm all In." "It may do oa good." said the doc- . tor. He handed Grant a cup and watched him drink It down eagerly. "That's going to do you good," he asserted. "Want anything to eat?" "It would choke Die," said Grant CHAPTER XIII "Stone Walls Do Not a Prison Make." There was no snock of the many which had made 1'ayson Grunt's life of late miserable comparable to the dreadful anguish of his awakening. He was in a prison cell. And It was not a cell attached to some remote re-mote county seat among the Adiron-dacks. Adiron-dacks. He knew with a fearful certainty cer-tainty that, through some happenings of which he was not yet cognizant, he was in that dread Hudson-side fortress for-tress of guarded men, Sing Sing. The overwhelming proofs of it swept away doubt instantly. He was Id prison garb and be was lying on a cot In a typical cell. The meager appurtenances ap-purtenances of the convict were around him. There was that faintly nauseating odor which spoke of dirt combated by disinfectants. Through the barred window he could see the steel rods which guarded guard-ed a larger aperture across what he supposed was a corridor. And through this second aperture be could see the river; and beyond that a line of barges passing Haverstraw. He knew the Hudson's topography too well to allow himself to be deceived. Always when he had passed the somber, gray building In the Albany boats he had stared at It with fascination such a walled city has for the free man. Nearer at band was- a section of a stone wall along which strolled a blue-clad prison guard over whose left arm was a rifle. Every hope be n ght have tried to bold was proved useless. He, 1'ayson Grant was in Sing Sing and a convict He sat on the edge of his cot and tried to account for It By what'un-remembered what'un-remembered stages bad he reached tliis pass? What lapses of consciousness conscious-ness had brought him bere? The last vivid recollection he had was riding In the limousine handcuffed hand-cuffed between two unsympathetic men. Grudgingly they had given him refreshment and then pushed on to a county lockup. He remembered that the doctor looked at hira and asked how he felt. The physician had v. his-pered his-pered to the sheriff that he had the appearance of one who might be in for a spell of brain trouble. And then, this awakening. Grant knew that prisoners awaiting trial were not made to wear this shameful livery. It was given to those already sentenced. It seemed only yesterday that he had been In the Weld camp Ht held his head between bis hands. As he took them down from his burn- ' ing forehead he saw the long nails he had kept so carefully manicured were cut short and grlme-rtmmed. The skin of his hands seemed rougher and redder. red-der. They were the hands c those who had done manual toll. Between the body of the prison and the guarding wall he saw men, in the same garb be wore, hauling stone and clearing up the yard. Warders with rifles directed their labor. Footsteps along the stone passage attracted his attention. It was a warder. He was a heavy-set man with a prognathous chin and angry eyes Yellow tobacco stains ran from the corner of a drooping mouth. He was bard, tough, irascible, fit being to tend su'fh a flock as th's. He unlocked un-locked the cell after glancing angrily at the prisoner. "Say," he snapped, "don't you know the regulations better than this? Roll up your bedding and clean yonr C1L IH have to report yoo for this. This ain't the first time I'?e bad to discipline dis-cipline yon." Grant shrank back as If expecting the word to be followed with a blow. What good would It do, he asked himself, him-self, to try to get Information from such a one as this? The warder looked at bim suspiciously. suspi-ciously. The prisoner was attempting In a clumsy, inefficient manner to perform per-form the simple task that is taught every convict on taking up such narrow nar-row quarters. The warder licked his lips as though he wished be dared punish the refractory convIcL "How long have I been here?" Grant nerved himself to ask. "1 don't know," the warder snapped. "I've only been In the new wing a mouth. I don't know when you came In." He smiled as though he bad Joy lu what he was to say, "1 can tell you when you go out." When Grant did not ask, be added, "You'll go out foot foremost when your time's up." The door of the cell clanged after bim. Grant sat in a state of lel'nargy. He felt If be concentrated sulhciently, the lost days would come back to bim. The effort hurt him and brought no reward. A sentence of the doctor's recurred constantly. "Deliberate Intent In-tent to kill." He had murdered Frank Sutton, but the dead man's threat was fulfilled. Sutton was free and he was bere Id the same prison. And when his time came he was going out feet foremost Presently a file of convicts in lock-step lock-step passed his door. Not a man ot them turned to look at him. Guards, armed guards everywhere kept watch on such as he. Later, a small man In prison dress came sweeping the corridor. He seemed to linger deliberately at Grant's door. But when he spoke it was out of the corner of his mouth. He did not dare to seem to slacken In his task or to turn his head. Grant supposed sup-posed that at each end of the corridor more blue-coated guards were stationed. sta-tioned. "He says," whispered the little man, and Grant knew he referred to the warder, "he says you've gone dippy. They're goin' to bring the doc. What's the big Idea? You can't put nuthin' over them d n doctors. I've tried." The little man went scurrying away as though he had seen the watchful eye of a guard. What he said gave the wretched Grant more food for thought His behavior bad seemed suspicious to the guard, who was to bring a physician. This could only mean that until today he had understood under-stood prison discipline and rules. Grant bad read of dual personalities and of how men had lost their Identities Identi-ties after severe shocks. . Such cases bad always seemed to him far-fetched and verging o the fraudulent And yet, here he was, a numbered Inhabitant Inhab-itant of a city of criminals, a man whose hands were stained and nails blackened with manual labor. The guard brought a young, alert man to the cell door and unlocked It. It was not an unkindly face that stared down at the man on the cot's edge. "Stand up," the guard thundered. Meekly, Payson Grant arose and stood clumsily at attention. The doctor's doc-tor's manner was such as people use with children or those mentally deficient. de-ficient. When be sent the guard away he looked into the convict's eyes and smiled. "Don't excite yourself," he began. "Tell me what's made you different today to-day in looks and voice and memory. Why do you need to know when you came In, for Instance?" "Doctor," Grant said, with a kind of desperate eagerness, "today is the first time, for I can't tell you when, that I remembered who I am. 1 swear to you I have no memory of this cell, or these clothes before my consciousness conscious-ness on waking up this morning. 1 practically began my life today. For God's sake, tell me why I'm here I" "You are bere for murdering a Captain Cap-tain Sutton." The prisoner hardly dared ask the question that was to gain the answer be wanted. "How long am 1 In for?" "You're a lifer," said the doctor. "Can you remember any particulars of the trial?" "Fairly well," the other answered. "You see It gained a lot of prominence because the Welds were mixed up In it In a sense. Your stand that you didn't know who you were or anything any-thing about the affair made it bad for you. Weld's testimony convicted you." (TO BE CONTINUED.) |