Within the Law [112]
reporters want any pictures of me, could I have some new ones taken? The one you've got of me in the Gallery is over ten years old. I've taken off my beard since then. Can I have a new one?" He put the question with an eagerness that seemed all sincere.
Burke answered with a fine feeling of generosity.
"Sure, you can, Joe! I'll send you up to the Gallery right now."
"Immense!" Garson cried, boisterously. He moved toward Dick Gilder, walking with a faint suggestion of swagger to cover the nervous tremor that had seized him.
"So long, young fellow!" he exclaimed, and held out his hand. "You've been on the square, and I guess you always will be."
Dick had no scruple in clasping that extended hand very warmly in his own. He had no feeling of repulsion against this man who had committed a murder in his presence. Though he did not quite understand the other's heart, his instinct as a lover taught him much, so that he pitied profoundly--and respected, too.
"We'll do what we can for you," he said, simply.
"That's all right," Garson replied, with such carelessness of manner as he could contrive. Then, at last, he turned to Mary. This parting must be bitter, and he braced himself with all the vigors of his will to combat the weakness that leaped from his soul.
As he came near, the girl could hold herself in leash no longer. She threw herself on his breast. Her arms wreathed about his neck. Great sobs racked her.
"Oh, Joe, Joe!" The gasping cry was of utter despair.
Garson's trembling hand patted the girl's shoulder very softly, a caress of infinite tenderness.
"That's all right!" he murmured, huskily. "That's all right, Mary!" There was a short silence; and then he went on speaking, more firmly. "You know, he'll look after you."
He would have said more, but he could not. It seemed to him that the sobs of the girl caught in his own throat. Yet, presently, he strove once again, with every reserve of his strength; and, finally, he so far mastered himself that he could speak calmly. The words were uttered with a subtle renunciation that was this man's religion.
"Yes, he'll take care of you. Why, I'd like to see the two of you with about three kiddies playing round the house."
He looked up over the girl's shoulder, and beckoned with his head to Dick, who came forward at the summons.
"Take good care of her, won't you?"
He disengaged himself gently from the girl's embrace, and set her within the arms of her husband, where she rested quietly, as if unable to fight longer against fate's decree.
"Well, so long!"
He dared not utter another word, but turned blindly, and went, stumbling a little, toward the doorman, who had appeared in answer to the Inspector's call.
"To the Gallery," Burke ordered, curtly.
Garson went on without ever a glance back.... His strength was at an end.
* * * * *
There was a long silence in the room after Garson's passing. It was broken, at last, by the Inspector, who got up from his chair, and advanced toward the husband and wife. In his hand, he carried a sheet of paper, roughly scrawled. As he stopped before the two, and cleared his throat, Mary withdrew herself from Dick's arms, and regarded the official with brooding eyes from out her white face. Something strange in her enemy's expression caught her attention, something that set new hopes alive within her in a fashion wholly inexplicable, so that she waited with a sudden, breathless eagerness.
Burke extended the sheet of paper to the husband.
"There's a document," he said gruffly. "It's a letter from one Helen Morris, in which she sets forth the interesting fact that she pulled off a theft in the Emporium, for which your Mrs. Gilder here did time. You know, your father got your Mrs. Gilder sent up for three years for that same job--which she didn't do! That's why she had such a grudge against your father, and against the law, too!"
Burke chuckled, as the young man took the paper, wonderingly.
"I don't know that I blame her much for that grudge, when all's said
Burke answered with a fine feeling of generosity.
"Sure, you can, Joe! I'll send you up to the Gallery right now."
"Immense!" Garson cried, boisterously. He moved toward Dick Gilder, walking with a faint suggestion of swagger to cover the nervous tremor that had seized him.
"So long, young fellow!" he exclaimed, and held out his hand. "You've been on the square, and I guess you always will be."
Dick had no scruple in clasping that extended hand very warmly in his own. He had no feeling of repulsion against this man who had committed a murder in his presence. Though he did not quite understand the other's heart, his instinct as a lover taught him much, so that he pitied profoundly--and respected, too.
"We'll do what we can for you," he said, simply.
"That's all right," Garson replied, with such carelessness of manner as he could contrive. Then, at last, he turned to Mary. This parting must be bitter, and he braced himself with all the vigors of his will to combat the weakness that leaped from his soul.
As he came near, the girl could hold herself in leash no longer. She threw herself on his breast. Her arms wreathed about his neck. Great sobs racked her.
"Oh, Joe, Joe!" The gasping cry was of utter despair.
Garson's trembling hand patted the girl's shoulder very softly, a caress of infinite tenderness.
"That's all right!" he murmured, huskily. "That's all right, Mary!" There was a short silence; and then he went on speaking, more firmly. "You know, he'll look after you."
He would have said more, but he could not. It seemed to him that the sobs of the girl caught in his own throat. Yet, presently, he strove once again, with every reserve of his strength; and, finally, he so far mastered himself that he could speak calmly. The words were uttered with a subtle renunciation that was this man's religion.
"Yes, he'll take care of you. Why, I'd like to see the two of you with about three kiddies playing round the house."
He looked up over the girl's shoulder, and beckoned with his head to Dick, who came forward at the summons.
"Take good care of her, won't you?"
He disengaged himself gently from the girl's embrace, and set her within the arms of her husband, where she rested quietly, as if unable to fight longer against fate's decree.
"Well, so long!"
He dared not utter another word, but turned blindly, and went, stumbling a little, toward the doorman, who had appeared in answer to the Inspector's call.
"To the Gallery," Burke ordered, curtly.
Garson went on without ever a glance back.... His strength was at an end.
* * * * *
There was a long silence in the room after Garson's passing. It was broken, at last, by the Inspector, who got up from his chair, and advanced toward the husband and wife. In his hand, he carried a sheet of paper, roughly scrawled. As he stopped before the two, and cleared his throat, Mary withdrew herself from Dick's arms, and regarded the official with brooding eyes from out her white face. Something strange in her enemy's expression caught her attention, something that set new hopes alive within her in a fashion wholly inexplicable, so that she waited with a sudden, breathless eagerness.
Burke extended the sheet of paper to the husband.
"There's a document," he said gruffly. "It's a letter from one Helen Morris, in which she sets forth the interesting fact that she pulled off a theft in the Emporium, for which your Mrs. Gilder here did time. You know, your father got your Mrs. Gilder sent up for three years for that same job--which she didn't do! That's why she had such a grudge against your father, and against the law, too!"
Burke chuckled, as the young man took the paper, wonderingly.
"I don't know that I blame her much for that grudge, when all's said