The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-04-12
CONDEMNED TO DEATH

bare of anything except a Clipped inkstand
of cheap crockery and a sheet of discolored
paper. waiting. He at the head OF the table
was a MISUNDERSTANDING, white-haired
man. who glanced now and again over his
gold-rimmed glasses at his companions. at
a vacant chair, and at the half-closed door,
without impotence.
He will come" The remark was ad-
dressed generally, to be answered by
biack-bearded man.
without doubt. Still, it is already half
an hour beyond the time" was the surly
reply.
They were professed Anarchists these six
men. but their meeting gave no sign of Sc
crecy. nor precaution against interruption.
Through the half-closed door could be heard
the rattle of domnoes on the marble tables
in the dingy little restaurant beyond, and
the hum of movement. Only short, mar
row passage separated the two rooms on
the ground floor of the Soho eating house.
and midway between these a raven-haired.
olive-skinned girl leant negligently against
the wall in the light of a gas flame that
showed the clear, statuesque beauty OF her
face and form to their fullest advantage.
Her age was about eighteen, although the
| contour of her figure. displayed by pose
of unconscious gracefulness. in which. for
| some moments, she had been standing, was
that of an older woman: her lustrous eyes
| kept their gaze on the half-windowed inner
| door of the restaurant.
Then 1T was opened hastily, and tall.
| lithe-figured man came from It, An En-
| glishman. young and handsome, with
reckless air in his carriage and manner.
he
| out his hands.
| The girl placed slim forefinger on her
I lips she glanced up at him.
go back!' she exclaimed in hard
whisper. For the love of God keep from
(, joining those in there tonight" and she
pointed to the half-opened door.
| ''But 1 am one of them in everything.
Teresaino," he answered. II have sworn
to help in the cause"
| st know-I know" she replied, holding
him back by gesture. But there is dan
ger to you in that room. 1 overheard. The
lots are to be drawn tonight"
'Tve passed my word. and mean to keep
| It." he answered. "You wouldn't have me
turn coward Teresaino? 1 know the bust
ness that we've been called together for"
| "Yet, perhaps, not all. The name Of the
man condemned" she pleaded. He gave a
| shrug of Indifference.
at shall hear it in time" he said. Don't
| hinder me, Teresaino. Wen have a chat
when the business yonder is over. I'm
late already and they will begin to think
I'm selling them"
| He put his hands on her shoulders stoop-
/ ing to kiss her, and then, with his swift
! resolute step. had entered the room. There
| was a murmur of salutation as he seated
| himself at the table, and one Of the men
| got up, closing the door softly.
| The business for which they had assem-
bled was known to each one present. There
| were no preliminary words, and the white
haired man proceeded to divide the sheet
| of paper into seven parts. doing so with a
| carefulness that denoted Importance. The
/ others watched him silently-there was a
/ grim significance in the act which i'm
pressed them. They were governed by a
| terror, always. Tonight 1t was little
| more tyrannous than usual, for it demand
| ed a human life at the hands Of these seven
| silent men, and, as was but natural. the
occasion interested them.
| Upon one of the slips a name had been
| written, the others were blank; and having
| folded each, with the precision that had
marked his movements before, the old man
dropped the seven tiny pieces into a wine
| measure. shaking it gently.
He that shall draw the name" he said
in a,soft. musical voice. glancing again over
| his glasses, Twill utter it not 1t is better
that none other but he and / should know it.
| You agree to this, my comrades?"
'It was always thus" replied one Of the
| men gravely. 1T is better than for the
| name, and the drawer of it. to be known"
| and he moved apart from his neighbor for
| the space of a yard, remembering the last
| drawing of lots. when Giuseppe Villa had
been condemned to death upon even a sus-
picion of treachery. For Giuseppe and he
had been bosom friends; still-and the rec
ollectionn caused him to raise his black
| eyebrows for an instant. Then the wine
measure was passed from hand to hand;
four of the fatal slips had been withdrawn.
to be opened and scanned. and there was
no sound but the hiss of the gaslight
streaming over the set faces beneath.
| The man who had moved his chair thrust
his hand into the measure almost deiantly.
If he drew the order to slay. it was but his
| fate, and as he looked at the paper his
brows went I'D for the second time.
| Two papers remained now. One for the
| Englishman, the other for the kindly-eyed
| man who had prepared them, and the for
| mer held his hand hidden in the wine meas
| ure for an instant.
Blank! A word Of inexpressibe relief was
restrained as it sprang to his lips. and there
4 came the sudden consciousness as of a
| crime escaped from. That he, an English
| man, should be joined TO a group of heart
| less assassins would have been incompre-
| hensible to any one who did not know
| Neville Hollands life story and nature.
| A richer man than he had robbed him of
| the only woman he ever had or would love.
| His brother, Sir Lucius. had stepped be-
| tween them, and the younger man disap-
| peared from society, nursing the wrong
done him. joining himself to others. also
| with wrongs to be righted. Most easily by
quick certain death to their oppressors,
and all traitors.
The wine measure was empty now, and
the old man. holding the paper he had
drawn, lighted II at the fiaring gas. What
| the result OF the drawing had been only one
| Of the seven men knew, but he made no
| sign, and Teresaino had entered the room,
| bringing wine and glasses. AS she passed
| the black-bearded man a little strip OF pa
| per fiuttered from his pocket, and she
thrust out her neatly shod foot. moving the
white paper adroitly to the door. Then. as