The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-05-15

"I don't ask you to take stock in it, but that was another experiment of l mine. The thing appeals to me: I can't help Helen by being at the court house, but. as sure as I'm alive and my names. Jack Brookheld, do be- | llieve that my thou@ht reaches. :s4 1 particular jnryman.'' ] That's lunacy, Jack, dear" Mrs. Campbell began conmiserating her brother:
 :.'Oh, Jack. the boys life is in the balance. Bitter, vindictive lawyers are prosecuting him, and I don't like my big, strong brother, who used to meet men and ali danger face to face, treat ing the situation with silly mind cure methods hidden alone in ahis | rooms" Mrs. Campbell, with an em- I bracing gesture. made an exhibit of Brookfeld and his surroundings. "I don't like it!''
 "You can't acquit a boy of murder ! by having strong brother thrash somebody in the. courtroom. If there was anything under the sun I could do with my physical strength I'd do 1t, 1 but there isn't. Now, why not, if I believe + can influence juryman by my thought-why not try" | His sister turned from him with a sigh of -hopelessness as Jo entered from the hallway. Jos rnaner was agitated
 1'well?" Brookfield inquired, sharp ly.
 i 'Mistah Hardmuth."
 ] Frank Hardnuth!" Mrs. Campbell exclaimed, in her astonishment. l ''Yes'm,' Jo assented,
 fHere's one of the bitter vindictive men you want me to meet face to face. Now. my dear Alice, you stay here while I go and do it.''
 | Co, ell Isey ed by the abrupt entrance of Hard muth.
 Excuse me-" he shouted, "but I can't wait in an anteroom.' 'sThat will do. Jo," Brookf1eld said ] to the boy. .sI want to SC you alone," Hardmuth continued, threateningly. His nod to- | ward Mrs. Campbell conveyed his ob- l jection to her presence.
 "Yes," Brookfeld replied to the un- | spoken question of his sister. He led her tenderly toward the door. What do you think it, is?''s she gasped. in suppressed anxiety. Nothing to worry over.' Brookfield l answered, reassuringly. as she left the room. s '.
 Jack Brookheld-" Hardmuth be- gan. T: s s~
 'sWell?,' "Fbe just seen Harvey Fisher. Of the Courier. . <.
 "Yes?''
 "He says you've hinted at some thing associating me with the shoot ing of Scovil" "Rightr' E. st
 What do you mean?" HardmutI1's g angry explosion carried all. the threat that was possible. "aI mean, Frank Hardmuth,'' Jack answered, in that delicate calm which most of his masculine acquaintances had come to correctly estjmate-"I mean that you sha'n't hound this boy to the gallows without reckoning with me and the things know of you.'
 I'm doing my, duty as a prosecut- ing attorney.''@
 \"You are" interrupted Brookfeld, land great deal more-you're vent ing a personal hatred.''
 That hasn't anything to do with this insinuation that you've handed to a newspaper man, an insinuation for which anybody ought to kill you"
 .".I don't deal in fnsinuations.' It was a charge
 "A charge,'' Brookfeld's tone was
 "That I knew scovil was to be shot?".
 "That you knew it? Nor' The voice was rasping with contempt. That you planned. it and arranged it and, procured his assassination"
 The courage and character of Brook fields answer benumbed Hardmuth for the moment. When he spoke at last the words came slowly and quietly, and rang with vibrant passion.
 If the newspapers print that, I'll kill you, damn you-Fll kill you",, The finish of the threat was in whisper. Hardmuths c1inched fish shook in Brookfield's face.
 ''I don't doubt your willingness" N4 will print it, if they haven't done so already"
 The insult implied in Hardmuth's belief that to threaten his life would compel him to rstrHct what he had said stung Brookfield like a blow on deserted him for the moment just long enough to lend increasing power to the rest of his reply.
 "And if they don't print it-by God, I'll print it myself and paste 1t on the fences!" .,%.
 "What have ever done to you, Jack Brookfeld. except to be your friend?' he almost whined.
 "You've been much too friendly. With this murder on your conscience you proposed to take to yourself as wife my niece, dear to me as my life. As revenge for her refusal and mine, \
 
 the boy she loves and the son of. the woman whose thought regulates the pulse of my heart-an innocent, un- fortunate boy. In your ambition you've reached out to be the gover- nor of this State, and an honored po- litical party is seriously considering you for that office to-day"
 s"That Scovil story, is a lie, polttl~ cal lie! I think you mean to be hon. est. Jack Brookheld, but somebody "a strung you" Hardmuth turned away. l
 wait" Brookf1eld commanded. The man that's. now hiding in Indiana, fugitive from your feeble efforts at axtradition. sat upstairs drunk and desperate, his last dollar on 8 case card. | pitied him. If a priest had been there he couldn't have purged his soul lcleaner than poor Raynor gave it to me. If he puts me on, am I strung?" @
 eyes. you are,' Hardmuth. bluster- ed. q can't tell you why, because this jury is odt and may come in any | moment, and I've got to be there. But 1 can souare it-so help me God, can square it!'
 "You'u have to square it.''
 Mrs. Campbell came in just then, | and behind her Justice Prentice, a | folded newspaper in one hand.
 "Excuse me" Prentice apologized for the abruptness of his, entrance. +
 Hardmuth bowed to him respect-t fully. ooh, Justice Prentice!
 There was a moments awkward hes itation. before .Brookfeld said, with