"I am so sorry I gave you all so much trouble last night," said
Ellinor, apologetically. "I was overtired, and much shocked by the
news I heard."
"No trouble, no trouble, I am sure. Neither Mrs. Johnson nor I felt
it in the least a trouble. Many ladies I know feel such things very
trying, though there are others that can stand a judge's putting on
the black cap better than most men. I'm sure I saw some as composed
as could be under Judge Corbet's speech."
"But about Dixon? He must not die, Mr. Johnson."
"Well, I don't know that he will," said Mr. Johnson, in something of
the tone of voice he would have used in soothing a child. "Judge
Corbet said something about the possibility of a pardon. The jury
did not recommend him to mercy: you see, his looks went so much
against him, and all the evidence was so strong, and no defence, so
to speak, for he would not furnish any information on which we could
base defence. But the judge did give some hope, to my mind, though
there are others that think differently."
"I tell you, Mr. Johnson, he must not die, and he shall not. To whom
must I go?"
"Whew! Have you got additional evidence?" with a sudden sharp glance
of professional inquiry.
"Never mind," Ellinor answered. "I beg your pardon . . . only tell
me into whose hands the power of life and death has passed."
"Into the Home Secretary's--Sir Phillip Homes; but you cannot get
access to him on such an errand. It is the judge who tried the case
that must urge a reprieve--Judge Corbet."
"Judge Corbet?"
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