The Washington times., 1927-05-31

Hhave done a great wrong. but
there's a streak Of the man in
him"
Not As Guilty As Painted
OF course. he might even have
gone further.
AS long as I now know that he
had it within him to lie under
oath for himself, / cannot help
| fancying that. had he possessed
that germ of fidelity, he could have
lied in my behalf.
Suppose he had testified that I
was entirely blameless, and that
| he was, alone, the murderer!
That Is not true. l am far from
guiltless. am far from as guilty
as he made me out, but 1 deserve
punishment. did not do the
awful deed, but let him do it. I,
who knew what was in his jealous.
greedy mind every time he got
drunk, warned no and on that
fatal night trusted my own judg-
ment and power and made possible
his crime.
But. suppose he had shielded me
instead of shielding himself be-
hind me.
Couldn't you find it in your heart
to think that here was sinner. a
murderer. yet with one last red
drop of honor in his system?
Could Have Left Some Decency
He didn't have to do that. If he
wouldn't stand on his rights and
keep silent, If he wouldn't lie and
take the entire guilt on himself, he
could still have taken the third
and more decent than the way he
did choose-and told the truth.
God alone knows the cold. full
truth would have been black enough!
/. who know what the truth OF
the whole thing Is, confess that!
But he could have left q shred of
decency to the ones who will sur
Vive us, to our mothers and our
children.
But. starting out to save himself.
ne was soon possessed with a
mania to destroy me. For minutes
he talked on and on. not under his
lawyers examination. He had
firebrand and he was running
amuck.
InferiOrity Complex at Work
The sound of his own voice, the
momentary sensation he was Great
ing, the hot copy" he was making
for the newspapers, worked him
up into a maniac. When the judge
wanted to adjourn court while he
was swearing my lite--and his own
and the last tatters of our human.
| ness away, he protested. at his own
suggestion, that he was quite ablc
to go on; and he did go on.
Once he started it he loved it,
reveled in 1t. 1t was a grim
game. This small-town corset
salesman was the central figure of
the world. The spotlight of a
thousand front pages were on him,
on the underling whom none had
ever recognized as more than just
person none but med and for
once he was bigger than wars,
taxes, baseball games.
There Is no bully like q coward
who suddenly gets power.
There he sat, protected by the
law, in the service of the prOsecu-
ton when he should have been de-
Tending his own life, holding ON his
loose runaway tongue the power
OF life and death over me.
1t was his 'inferiority complex"
at its high peak in the saddle and
riding wild.
Instinct Of Murderer
1t was the same man who, weeks
ahead of time, brought and prepared
a sashweight with which to strike,
and choloroform with which to
| numb.
The instinct Of the murderer was
in full cry within him again. This
time was the one for whose blood
he thirsted. Blow after blow he
rained on my defenseless head.
The weakling again had weapons,
and the killer again had a victim.
It was in his eyes, it was in the
curl OF his lips, it was in the I'M
usual squaring Of his shoulders.
He, himself, feared to break the
strain, scared in his heart that this
new. dizzy courage would leave
him, and he would any moment
suddenly be his own cowardIy self
again.
So he fed himself on stimulants.
Whiskey! His favorite one! Every
time he felt himself hesitating he
threw in few drinks--"So we had
q few drinks ana then Gallops
| Of drinks he poured into his wild