Newport daily independent. (Newport, Ark.) 1901-1929, 1913-09-11


this whole business"
The governor bent farther forward,
burying himself in an intense concen-
tration of mind. For time interim
nable to Gilman, he sat thus. His cigar
went out. The ice In his glass melted.
spun on the crystal brim, and sank
with tiny splash and tinkle.
Gilman took sip of liquor, lighted
fresh cigarette, rose, and walked up
and down the room. He thought of
the election, so near at hand. He
looked at the governor bowed there be-
fore him. What was Whalen, or the
woman, or anybody to him? Let the
| prisoner die, What was he to the
governor? John Chatham's party
needed him, his country needed him,
| his time needed him, mankind and hui
man progress needed him. II he par
| doned Whalen, what was to become of
| him? The conviction of BrokosRi's
murderer alone could save him from
such apparent qualification. here on
the eve of an election at which. in the
| foolish phrase of modern pol s. he
sought vindcation. Was this nvic-
ton possible? The bare though, allied
Gilman beside. the governor. He laid
hand on his shoulder.
| "These abstruse propositions
wouldn't stand before jury in a Grim
inal court" he said. Let Whalen
stay"
The governor lifted his head.
'But you just now said that he was
not Brokoskis murderer"
Gilman hesitated. When he spoke,
he said
"a jury of twelve sworn men has
said that he is"
Two days after the private secre-
tary's return, the newspapers We're
| full of stories concerning his move
ments. Whalen's picture was exploit
ed. correspondents sought the COVER
nor for interviews, and the Courier
charged that, in his desperation, he in
tended to pardon Whalen, that he
might have, in his campaign, the as
sistance of that skilled and unscrupu-
lous manipulation. The pack of coun-
try newspapers took up the Courier's
cry Whalen's illness was either lg
nored, or referred to as feigned, at
the direction of prison authorities and
| the governor. And yet a certificate
pigeonholed in Gilman's desk, signed
by the prison physician, stated that
Thomas Whalen had pulmonary tuber
| culosis and was in a moribund condi
ton.
In his office in the city William
Handy, the chairman of the state cen
trail committee, read these newspaper
stories, and swore as he did so. That
night the shrewdest and maddeSt pol
itician in the state stole out of town
The next morning Gilman was sur
prised when the big man burst through
the door marked private" brushed
by him and entered unannounced, the
governors chambers Before the state
ly door swung to behind him, Gilman
heard him demand:
whats all this ! hear about your
pardoning Tom Whalen?"
The private secretary did not hear
the governors reply, for with DELHI
crate step he had crossed the room
and closed the door He heard moth
ing clearly, for Handy's voice came tC
at all Once he thought he heard
"mawkish sentiment" and "the action
of political imbecile," but what he
mostly distinguished was muffled pro
family. The young man for the first
time in his experience was delighted
when his bell buzzed just then. Wher
he entered upon the scene, the cover
nor, rocking complacently in his high
backed chair, was saying:
"But what if it's my duty?"
DUTY be damned" shouted Handy
rising to his feet, and shifting the desk
with a heavy fist he had had folded
during the conversation. The wratt
which the politician had kept bottled
up overnight had burst out at last.
ct am running this campaign" hi
cried, land as long as do run 1t,
do not propose to tolerate such in
credible folly as pardoning Tom Wha
len"
The governors splendid frame
seemed to dilate, and Gilman sud
denly became conscious that the
admiration he had always giveI
the man had never before meas
ured up to the fullness Of John Chat
hams deserts. It was with relief tina
he saw the governors glance turf
from Handy to bend on him.
"Gilman," he said. have a pardor
made out for Thomas Whalen."
This answer to Handy's threats wa:
punctuated by flash from the COVER
nor's eyes.
"And Gilman" the governor con
tinued.
eyes, SIR"
"Wire that woman-what's he
name"
"Barry?"
"Yes-Barry-w1re her to come.
think I shall prefer to tell her my
| self"