"You coward and blackmailer!" he blazed. "The man you brought here as
your witness was the one who shot you! His very flight is confession.
And I believe _you knew he was the guilty one_!" His deep voice rang
like a bell, quick with indignation and contempt. "You hate this man
before you, and when he came between you and your plan, you tried to
lie the noose about his neck!"
Craig's face was convulsed, his hands moving in distorted gestures. A
writhing spot of pain was bubbling like a white-hot coal beneath the
bandage on his temple. He burst into a wild laugh.
"Damn your beliefs!" he shouted. "You know who I am! The whole state
knows me! What I swore to I'll swear to again. You can't make black
into white by your opinions. This man is a convict--a _convict_! Do
you hear? He is under sentence..."
The Governor had seated himself at the table and was writing swiftly.
He looked up now.
"And I," he thundered, "am Governor. As such, I don't care who he is.
I don't want to know. It is enough that I am convinced of his
innocence, as I am of your perjury. Here is his pardon. From this
moment he is free!"
He rose, and if honest indignation could have blasted, his look would
have blasted the man who stood livid and gasping before him:
"Let me tell you one thing more, Cameron Craig! If you dare to drag
his name or that of this woman into publicity now, to satisfy your mean
revenge, I'll see that you are indicted, so help me God! We shall find
whose testimony will be believed!"
Craig, swaying now on suddenly numb and uncertain feet, would have
shouted too, but his tongue seemed tied and a heavy torpor was
clutching all his limbs. He heard his own voice come forth ragged and
broken:
"I--I dare! You--this--!"
Tottering, he lurched to a chair and fell into it, even as the
Governor's look took on a glare of outraged astonishment--for Craig's
face now was drawn and contorted into a malignant grimace. But all at
once this faded out, the features became expressionless, the eyes dull,
and he slipped in a huddle from the chair to the floor.
He lay there upon his face without a word or movement. He did not hear
the Governor's exclamation nor the voices about him, nor feel the touch
of inquiring hands at heart and wrist. His passion had undone him.
The dulling pulse beat on, but the brain had once more ceased its
functioning; nor would it ever again quicken that inert body, at the
behest of the great surgeon in Buda-Pesth or of any other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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