The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-08-21

great shiver passed through his body. 1t was the tiny bell of his watch ! tinkling off the hour of six.
 Scarcely had that sound ceased to | ring in his brain when from far | of his prison there came a creaking noise as if heavy door had been swung slowly on its hinges or trap opened, then voices. low. quick, excited voices. the hurrying tread of feet. a flash of light shooting through the gloom. They were coming. After all. it was not to be a private affair. and Jean was to do his killing as the hang. mans job is done in civiliZation-be- fore a crowd. Howland's arms drop ped to his side. This was more terri ble than the other-this seeing and hearing of preparation. in which he fancfed that he heard the click of Croisset's gun as he lifted the hammer. Instead it was a hand fumbling at the door. There were no voices now. only a strange moaning sound that he could not account for. In another mo- ment it was made clear to him. The door swung open and the white robed figure of Meleese sprang toward him with a cry that echoed through the dungeon chambers. What happened then-the passing of white faces be- yond the doorway. the subdued mur- mur of voices-were all lost to How land in the knowledge that at the last moment they had let her come to him, k.z h1tl l. :- l. she was crushing her face to his breast and sobbing things to him which he could not understand. Once or twice in his life he had wondered if realities might not be dreams. and the thought came to him now when he felt the warmth of her hands. her face. her hair and then the passionate pressure of her lips on his own. He lifted his ,yes. and in the doorway he saw Jean Croisset and behind him a wild. beard ed face-the face that had been over him when life was almost choked from him on the great north trail. And be- yond these two he saw still others, shining ghostly and indistinct in the deeper gloom of the outer darkness. He strained Meleese to him, and when he looked down into her face he saw her beautiful eyes flooded with tears and yet shining with great joy. Her lips trembled as she struggled to speak. Then suddenly she broke from his arms and ran to the door. and Jean Croisset came between them. with the wild. bearded man still staring over his shoulder.
 "M'seur. will you come with us?" said Jean.
 The bearded man dropped back into the thick gloom, and without speak ing Rowland followed Croisset. his eyes on the shadowy form of Me leese. The ghostly faces turned from the light, and the tread of their re- treating feet marked the passage through the blackness. Jean fell back beside Rowland, the huge bulk of the bearded man three paces ahead. A dozen steps more and they came to a stair. down which light shone. The Frenchman's hand fell detainingly on Howland's arm. and when a moment later they reached the top of the stairs all had disappeared but Jean and the bearded man. Dawn was breaking, and a pale light fell through the two windows of the room they had enter ed. On table burned a lamp. and near the table were several chairs. To one of these Croisset motioned the engineer. and as Rowland sat down the bearded man turned slowly and passed through a door. Jean shrug-
 
 peared.
 "Mon Dieu. that means that he leaves it all to me-" he exclaimed. "I don't wonder that it is hard for him to talk. m'seur. Perhaps you have begun to understandr
 "Yes. littie." replied Rowland. His tAart was throbbing as if he had just Finished climbing a long hill. That was the man who tried to kill me. But Meleese-the"- He could go 10 fur ther. Scarce breathing. he waited for Jean to speak.
 'It is Pierre Thoreau," he said. 'eld- est brother to Meleese. It is he who should say what 1 am about to tell you. mseur. But he is too full of grief to speak You wonder at that? And yet tell you that man with better soul than Pierre Thoreau never lived. though three times he has tried to kill you. Do you remember what you asked me short time ago. m'seur-if thought that you were the John Rowland who murdered the father of Meleese sixteen years ago? Gods saints. and 1 did until hardly more than half an hour ago. when some one came from the south and exploded mine under our feet. 1t was the young est of the three brothers. M'seur. we have made a great mistake. and we ask your forgiveness"
 In the silence the eyes of the two men met across the table. To How land it was not the thought that his life was saved that came with the greatest force. but the thought of Me leese, the know ledge that in that hour when all seemed to be lost she was nearer to him than ever. He leaned half over the table. his hands clinched. his eyes blazing. Jean did not under stand. for he went on quickly.
 "l know if is hard. m'seur. Perhaps it will be impossible for you to for givs thing like this. We have tried to s1H yeu-kill you by slow torture, as we thought you deserved. But