The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-05-16
THE WEIGHING HOUR Story Of the Great American Drama by the Author of the Play,
 Augustus Thomas

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 sharp grip of the shoulder he said, in
 stimulating severity:
 l Hes free. Helen: he's free!' 1 res, mother, I'm freei" Clay rose to
 nis rect, his arms about his mother.
 Helen's face sank on his breast. Ihere was a hushed silence in which
 the members of the party heard her soDbtng whisper: My boy; my boy!" Jack left them and crossed the room, greeting Colonel Bailey, who had ac-
 companied Clay to the house and now
 followed him into the room. Helen,
 reused by the stir about looked up ana beyond her son to where Viola vas standing by Mrs. Campbell. her ungers locked in a joy almost as in
 tense an tnartculate as Helen's. The
 mother generously turned Clay's face
 and pointed to the girl.
 Viola, my brave sweetheart!" Clay whispered, as he took her in his arms. Is 1t really over?" Viola asked
 Jack was shaking Colonel Bailey's
 hand
 Its great victory, Colonel. If ever a lawyer made good fight for mans life, you did. Helen, Viola-you must. want to shake this mans hand. vloaas who was nearest, took the
 nand of the attorney as she met him.
 could have thrown my arms around you when you make that
 The old cavalier shook his head gall
 fantly, SToo many younr fellows crowding into the profession as it is." The lawyer passed on to Helen, who
 said: Life must be sweet to a man
 who can do so much good as you do.''
 T couldn't stand 1t, you know" Bai- ley bantered. defensively, eff 1t wasn't that my ability works both ways'' Marse Clay! It was the trembling voice of Uncle Harvey. who. finding nls d1ning-room reserted, had come in-
 to the library.
 Harvey! Why, dear old Harvey!' Clay took him by both hands. The old darkey proceeded to pat him on arms and shoulders, to be doubiy sure that the boy was really back Yes, suh-yes, sun-could you eat anything Marse Clay?''
 Eat anythingw laughed the boy. Why. I'm starving, Uncle Harveyr' Yes. suh. The old man capered from the room.
 But you come with me- said Clay
 to his mother and Viola. My boy, Colonel,' Helen apologiz- ed, as she left the room with Clay. taking Viola with her.
 Bailey and Mrs. Campbell followed.
 Elinger. who was the last of the pro- cession to quit Brookfleld and Prem | tice, said, as he left the room: Well, don't believe I could eat anything-but I suppose there'll be something else''
 Brookneid took from the table the threatening letter of Hardmuth. | Justice Prentice" he said, sT shall never doubt you again. MT. Brookfleld." the Justice answer ed. tmpresdyely, never doubt your
 ~Brooknsld's hama was above his
 electrolier- There was the sound of
 rushing footsteps in the hallway. Hardmuth. livid of counotenance, dashed into the room.
 You think you'll send me to the gallows: but. damn you, you go first!" from his overcoat pocket q double barre1led derrfnger that had caught in the lining. The weapon was freed; there was the double click of the ham, mer as Hardmuth pushed it against Brookfield's body. "Stop!" As if released by Brook fields word the full light of the elec- trolier fell into Hardmuth's eyes. Behind Brookfield one hand of the old Justice pointed at, Hardmuth in muth's thought seemed to desert him. He felt in his face the glare of the light; he saw Broolfield's eyes, like I two burning coals from which 1t was impossible to take his gaze. Behind Brook1eld. in the circle of half-light,
 
 Prentice. Through haze of con- sciousness he heard Brookfield's level m0notone-slow, compelling: You can't use that gun-you can't pull the trigger-you can't even hold the gun!''
 Hardmuth heard the sound of the derringer as it dropped from his in- ert grasp and struck the floor. And then again the voice of Brookheld: Now, Frank, you may go. Hardmuth felt as one waking from dream. Tn an awed and throaty whisper he said: 'I'd like to know how in hell you did that to me!'' Chapter Xv. When Hardmuth reached the street the newsboys. who came as far south as Brookheld's only on extraordinary occasions. were crying the extras. with the report of Whipple's acquitt- tai and the discovery of the scovill Hardmuth's impulse was flight He remembered that he had often commented on the lack of intelligence shown by criminals in flight. It had
 been easy to reconstruct the route l,9 of
 takes in the paper, or to show how he. had lost time that had been fatal to him by aimleesly doubling on his tracks or stupidly hiding where his pur8uer9 WOulo IuOsI udtuTdiiy SedTCu for him.
 His great need consequently, he req soned, was for few minutes calm
 reflection: If only he could have have
 half an hour in his own room he was certain he could plan g means of es- cape from the arrest that was doubt less now under way; but he dared not go to his room. This must have been clear to his sub-conscious mind from the first as an instinct had guided his footsteps before his reason approved it, for he found himself walking
 swiftly away from the heart of the town. The night was bitter cold: few pedestrians were out. Hardmuth's direction would soon take him from the city, but it would also take him into the State. His hope lay in reach ing Indiana.
 If he could only get some perspec-l tive upon himself. How would he advise another in his situation who
 might come to him for counsel As
 he revolved this question in his mind the two voices of his subjective and
 objective self entered into debate:
 'sWhat are you going to do Don't
 let this rattle you-brace up and an- swer me-"
 DO? I don't know What do
 you advise me to do?''
 "Get under cover-keep still for a day or two. BrOokfield has probably
 telephoned headquarters before this that you're running away, and the
 police are watching every bridge and
 highway"