The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1913-02-13
CHAPTER XIV.
The Torture.


Hell is a place of unsatisfied desires,
and in its lowest depths are those,
who, writhing in the agony of their
decaying nerves, shrek for their be-
loved morphine and shrek in vain.
Many times in my life / have seen
the souls of men, and women, too, put
to hard and bitter tests.
Once | saw a motorman whose car
had crushed lovely child. Around
him pressed a bowling, angry mob,
led by the baby's father, who would
have had his life. With bold daring,
he stood on his platform as on a
throne, with his controller bar for his
only weapon, and defled them all.
Yet, even as he stood there outwardly
so bold, / saw in his eyes a misery as
great as man could bear and live.
For days and months | doubt not that
his nightly dreams brought him con-
slant horror pictures of the child he
had killed.
Once, too, l had to be the bearer
of the news when a workman's mis-
step on a frame OF steel sent him
plunging down eighteen stories to
death In the foul tenement where l
told my news I saw a tired, gaunt
woman walk the floor and scream and
moan, three frightened little children
clinging to her skirts.
Often, too, in my practice in the
courts, have seen men in dreadful
misery--a ruffian bold and defiant de-
spite the blood-guilt on his soul, face
all the world courageously until the
jury's foreman said the word that
brought the death-chairs horror to
his heart and crumpled him weeping
to the floor
Yet all the concepts that my brain
had formed of the utmost in pain and
shame and misery faded into insig.
nificance before the things | saw in
that rude cottage in the Jersey hills
where for two long days Davis and
myself kept watch on the fettered
master Misunderstanding waiting,
waiting till his drug-tortured nerves
should make him tell us the secret of
his yellow letters.
Shackjed hand and foot though he
had found himself when he came out
Of his stupor, his self-control was at
first wonderful For a few minutes
after Davis had fastened his bonds he
lay there tossing and twitching, then
suddenly opened his eyes-piercing,
devilish, uncanny black eyes they
were-and tried to sit up.
The rope through the manacles be-
hind him stopped him short and
threw him back on his couch. AT the
same time he caught sight of Davis
sitting near the foot OF his couch. In
silence they eyed each other, neither
OF them saying a word. Stealthily
Young shifted, first his hands and then
his feet as If to ascertain the extent
of his bonds. Finding himself secure
ly fastened, he let his eyes rove
around the room, and discovered me.
He studied my face sharply, as if to
read my mission. but quickly turned
his gaze to Davis again, as if recog-
nizing in him his master captor.
Then he laughed hideous, chil-
ling, defiant laugh, that ended in an
unhealthy gurgle in his throat.
''Well?" bo asked inquirirgIy.
looked for Davis to seize ON this
propitious moment, when Young, just
aroused from drug-slumbeT, would be
weak and nervous, to ply him with
questions about the things we wished
to know, but the inspector was too
much a master of his craft for that.
AS if he had not heard his prisoners
question, he sat there staring fixedly
at the man before him.
One minute passed, two minutes
three, and still Davis sat silent and
unanswering. The cumulative force
of prolonged silence began to grow
on my nerves This waiting, waiting,
was torture. If only one of them
would speak. To Young it must have
been far worse.
Still they kept at it. Davis staring
straight into Young's eyes and Young