Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
“You had better get a move on you, for I mane it.”
“You are walking so fast I can not keep up.”
“Indade, he told me to go for you because I go faster than the wires, and
I want to keep up my reputation with the boss.”
“You are trying to make a record for yourself, are you?”
CHAPTER XII.
ANOTHER DEAD MAN.
As the two entered the office the superintendent exclaimed: “You are slow
about getting here. I believe Mr. Pearson is dead.”
“I hope not,” replied the doctor; “but I will see in a moment.” Then:
“Pulsation very weak. Did he complain of feeling ill before he collapsed?”
“No, doctor; only some excitement and—”
“He seems to have been affected very deeply from it. I am alarmed.”
“Do you think that we should send for more help?”
“I am not of the opinion that they could do any more than I am doing.”
“You are going to need the stretcher.”
“To the 78 cell, doctor! And a stretcher to carry out the dead live ones!”
“Pat, step inside and see what is the matter with No. 78. I hear a noise.”
“I am going to have the club ready. I am not feeling very good, and I
don’t think it would take much to get me—bated.”
“Now, doctor, I have a secret to tell you. I have been mistrusting a
convict’s relationship to an employee of this office, and I have asked
him for a complete explanation of the affair. I understand that he has
shown some favors to the convict in my absence. And I can not, for the
life of me, explain what the voices are that we hear in this office, at
times, pertaining to this officer. He and I were here talking the matter
over, and I asked him if he did not know this man was his brother. He
said that he did not. At that moment we heard a voice, ‘_I will show
you!_’ and a terrible scream came from him, and as he looked up he called
his mother three times for help, and fell as you see him.”
“I have witnessed many fainting spells, but never did I find the pulse in
such a condition.”
“Officer,” came the voice of Pat, “I am having a picnic, hearing the
prisoner talk in his sleep, and with his eyes open. Would you mind coming
in and getting some of the news?”
“You may go,” said the doctor; “I will take care of the patient. There is
nothing that you can do.”
“Very well, I will see what is wrong.
“Well, Pat, you seem to be having a free entertainment.”
“You will have to name it. I call it a treat to see a fellow talk asleep
and standing, with his eyes open all the time he is sleeping.”
“What is he talking about?”
“Listen, for yourself. He is going on so fast I can’t run and keep up.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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