New Britain herald., 1929-07-29
THIS HAS HAPPENED


 cused of the murder of Bernice Bradford. has drawn to a close. And little Molly Burnham, covering her first big story, is trembling with ex- citement.
 Barrows was charged with poison ing a notoriously light and beautiful woman, whom he once had loved. Bernice Bradford was found dead in her bed. And, though she had many lovers, suspicion centered on Bar lows, the petted darling of smart society, and married man to boot.
 The trial had afforded Molly her big chance to do some real writing. She is engaged to marry a boy named Jack Wells, whom she loves devotedly. But she has dreams also of being an authoress. or a play wright, perhaps. She is a very am- hitlous girl, and clever and beauti- full, besides. During this trial she has achieved a good deal of local fame
 NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
 CHAPTER x
 Through the long night the re- porters waited in the courtro oom. They sent out for food, but Molly was too excited to eat. As it grew late, the others slept, dropping their heads on their arms across the press table. While they rested Molly wrote sheet after sheet of copy.
 Dawn found her bright-eyed and feverish. She could scarcely re- member when she had eaten. But when messengers arrived with steaming coffee and toast, she won dered how the rest could eat,
 In the jail across the street sat a man in agony, awaiting the yer dict of the jury. By their word he lived or died. And in the court house those 12 men haggled the long night through. Some seeking to convict, and others to free.
 Molly had written two stories. One to be used if Barrows was found guilty. And the other if he was acquitted.
 The first one began with two lines from ''The Ballad of Reading Gaol--
 The man had killed the thing he
 loved,
 And so he had to die'
 . . Then, thinking of how the reporters had watched the accused, lynx-eyed, for IS days, she quoted again:
 So with curious eyes and sick sur
 We watched him day by day, And wondered if each one of us
 Would end the self-same way, For none can tell to what red Hell
 His sightless soul may stray"
 She wrote of Bernice Bradford, and described her in poets terms the poor dead woman whom he loved, and murdered in her bed" It was a good story, and Molly was proud of it.
 The other she had written rather careiessly, since the consensus of opinion was that Barrows was un- deniably guilty. Betting around the press table was to that he would be convicted
 At 10 o'clock they brought the prisoner in. He walked slowly to has cage, guard on either side. His face looked like death mask, and his long dark lashes swept his ashen cheeks. He seemed like a murderer going to the hangman's moose. And Molly shivered as he passed,
 "Gentlemen of the Jury, have you reached a decision The foreman stood. We have. your honor"
 A guard in blue. with brass but tons on his uniform, pulled the prisoner 10 his feet.
 Molly was praying silently. She believed the man guilty, but because a woman's heart is made of pity. rather than of justice, she began, weakly, to pray Oh God. don't let him be guilty. Please, God, don't let him be guilty
 
 his shoulders. Not guilty, your nonor." The prisoner closed his eyes, shivered convulsiyely and slipped like woman, to the floor. There was 8 great commotion at the press table Reporters dashed madly for the telephones in the corridor. Mes | senger boys ran from the room. And then, in the midst of all the confusion, Molly tainted. Quietly falling to the floor, in a still heap, like the defendant.
 They threw cold water on her, and made her drink coffee that was cold and bitter. And when they | had revived her, they laughed at her, because reporters are not sup posed to be emotional. and a sob | sister, they said should be hard boiled
 On the courthouse steps Molly | bought a paper. Her story led tho sheet, and across the top was flaming banner line that exhorte,t | the public, in scarlet type, to READ MOLLY BURNHAM'S 1, HEART THROBS.' Her picture was there. And there were pie lures. too, of Bernice Bradford and | Lionel Barrows.
 Wouldn't mother have a fit" thought Molly.
 The week was up, and Molly, one evening, was reading James Joyce's Ulysses" Everything she read | these days was carefully chosen. Books that dealt with naked emo-. tions she read avidly, having de. cded to begin work soon on her own novel The novel that was to nortraN the SOul of a Wnman