The herald., 1897-12-12
SHOT TO KILL
Analytical Study of Young
Wilfred Glover
WITH MURDER IN HIS MIND
WHY SHOULD HIS LIFE NOT
BE REDEEMEDp
Nothing Abnormal, No Degeneracy
in His PHYSICAL or Psychical Con-
stitution-Moral ObliquityP


"Routine, Interview Glover, Concert
in the Evening"
Such was the order I found written
against my name on the assignment
book one day last week.
The Routine" / understood, likewise
the Concert" but Glover-who on earth
was Glover? 1 did not remember hav-
ing heard that any celebrity OF thai
name was In the city, SO I appealed te
my city editor.
'eWhat Glover is this? Banker, rail-
road man, ex-governor from somewhere
or somebody supposedly on the inside on
the harbor question?
"No''-with fine Wilfred
Glover, the kid that shot DR.. Moore last
month: he's up in the county JAIL Take
the artist with you."
Brief, but very much to the point.
now understood thoroughly what my
afternoons work was to be.
An order to go to the county Jail prob
ably does not carry unalloyed Joy to the
heart Of anybody, except to those Gu
riously constructed persons of the fe-
male persuasion who do not wait for an
order, but, having read all the harrow
ing details of lawlessness proceed to
brew little dabs of jelly or cup custard
and then, armed with flowers and their
home made dainties, gain admittance
to his sacred presence and make lumin-
Gus idiots of themselves before the star
criminals of the hour, whose malfea-
sance has drawn, for any reason, or
rather, without reason, upon their hyS-
terical emotions.
Having been built by merciful prov
idence upon different lines, I did not
view with any degree of pleasure the
task before me. But business Is busi-
ness, and with the idea Of putting the
most disagreeable part of 1t behind me
as soon as possible, promptly hunted
up the artist. 1 found him carefully ty-
ing large section Of black cloth around
the box Of his camera. Its legs were
dangling aimlessly about, but he gath
cred the three sticks deftly under his
arm and we started for the sheriff's Of
flee.
Once there 1t took no time at all to
get the necessary permit. which read:
admit - and friend" I glanced at
the artist interrogatively as we both
read the words, and he answered with a
reassuring grin. 1t had never occurred
to me before whether we were friends OF
not. We were simply co-workers on the
same paper and had often covered de-
tail together. Yet somehow I felt bet
ter for this mute assurance. 1t is al
ways good to be with friends, but 1t is
particularly comforting when you are
going to Jail-if only to interview MUIR
derer.
PRELIMINARIES
But was this boy with whom I was
going to talk really a murderer? He had
shot a man and acknowledged it. The
man was alive, however, and had fully
recovered. The melting cause for the
deed seemed to have been that the boy
wanted pocket money. Neither hatred
nor malice had been shown in the evil
dence at the preliminary examination,
nor had the lad a past record of evil
against him. Thus much l had CLEANED
from a hasty glance over the paper file
before left the office.
Meanwhile we had been admitted by
Turnkey Manahan, who carefully locked
the door with his mammoth keys, waved
them in the direction of the Jail office,
dealt us each sunny smile of welcome,
which was manifestly intended to make
us feel entirely at home, and sent
trusty for the prisoner we wished CO
to see.
A desk, q few chairs, measuring ma
chine and a collection of miscreants' pho
tographs, which enjoys the sobriquet of
the "rogues' gallery" and which is made
up of assorted countenances, all show
inQ In O. 4
evil-these were the furnishings of the
salon, through the door of which walked
Wilfred Glover, our host for the time
being.
The turnkey formally made us ac-
quainted, and the artist plunged boldly
into the object of our visit by asking
the boy if he would object to having his
photograph taken for the paper The
prisoners face had not shown either
pleasure or the reverse when he came
into the room, nor did his expression
change when the request for his picture
was made. He simply bowed his head
In courteous acquiescence, and, drawing
from his vest pocket a narrow bone
comb, he quietly drew it through his
hair.
Turnkey Manahan said we would bet
ter go up onto the second floor in order
to get better light for the photograph:
and he led the way, the artist following.
Young Glover respectfully waited for
me to pass, and as l walked through the
door and up the stairs with him directly
behind me, l am ashamed to confess
that Gravity sensation took possession
of my spine, and l wished with all nv
heart that the boy had impolitely pre-
ceded me.
A CURIOUS MIXTURE
While the artist focused his camera
and posed the youth, plying him with
questions as he worked, proceeded leis-
urely to study this involved specimen of
human machinery.
A curious mixture Of man and child :.
an incomprehensible tumble of good and
bad; an exterior that is certainly not
inviting. and yet is far from being Who'll
1y repulsive; nature which is positive
1y uncanny in It's impenetrable maze of
contradictions; an irresponsible human
mechanism, crowned with a tousled NOR
of red hair-such, 1t seemed to me. is
Wilfred Glover, the child who will not be
Is until next month, and yet who shot tC
kill DR.. Paul Moore on the 7th of De-
cember last, and the only tangible ex-
40. to- f@ -. L