Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 137: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DUST TO DUST. ing which had settled over her spirit. A sense of something dire impending filled her thoughts when she entered the court room, and she wondered how Stephen had fared on his mission. Could Uncle Matt have heard from him yet? As on the previous day her eyes swept the spectators in a quick, comprehensive glance, glowing softly as they noted Mrs. Yates’s faithful presence. Then they fell upon Dicky Tewson sitting alone and a little frown gathered between her eyes. Did he mean to attend the trial to its end, hop- ing to see her convicted? How much deep- er his vindictive resentment at her dismissal must have gone than she imagined? Her attorneys bowed gravely as she seat- ed herself and turned slightly to Rowe. ‘‘Stephen—” Her lips barely moved. Matthew Rowe shook his head in silence, and in a few moments he was on his feet, addressing the jury in his turn. He desired first of all to congratulate his learned friend the district attorney on the remarkable case he had made out on the previous day, the only trouble with it being that it wasn’t fact. The gentlemen of the jury had been requested to be “ fair-mind- ed” in their judgment of the late Niles Hamersley, as though a doubt existed that they would be fair-minded in whatever judgment they might be called upon to make, but he, Matthew Rowe, questioned the “ fair-mindedness ” of the implication that any secret existed in the past of the late husband of his client merely because he had not been a resident of New York prior to two years ago. The bereaved young widow seated before them in a grief too deep for tears had de- voted her life to charity and good works since the death of her father, she had had no worldly experience, and when she fell in love for the first time she loved deeply and truly, with utter faith and trust. It was her consolation now that that trust had not been misplaced, that that faith had been justified! She had sent her husband from her at the very doors of the church to suc- cor his dying friend, and on his return had greeted him with all tenderness and love. Not the shadow of a cloud had rested be- tween them, as would be proved to the satis- 919 faction of the gentlemen of the jury, until they had found that old revolver in the at- tic with which the late Mr. Hamersley was amusing himself when the floor suddenly gave way, precipitating him to his death. Claudia listened to the benign, fatherly tones as Uncle Matt went on to describe in detail the tragedy as she had herself been called upon to tell it so many times, but her thoughts were far away. Time was passing; why had no word come from Stephen? Surely something must have gone wrong! The wind was howling outside the court room windows and the sky was heavily overcast, but still there was no rain, and a grim, portentous waiting had seemed to settle down brooding over the face of the universe. But Uncle Matt had reached his perora- tion. “ Look at the young girl before you, gen- tlemen of the jury!” His gentle, pitying voice was in telling contrast to the thunder- ous tones of his opponent on the previous day. ‘She is utterly alone, the man to whom but a few short hours before she had given the sole right to protect her has been taken from her by the most cruel of chances, snatched from before her very eyes im @ moment of joyous happiness by an accident at once simple to comprehend and fearful to contemplate! Does she appear to be the cold-blooded, calculating mur- deress our Jearned friend would have you believe? “She asks neither sympathy nor pity; her sorrow is too profound for human con- solation. She asks only that she be judged by the true facts in this case as they shall be set before you, not suppositions as fal- lacious as they are fanciful. Counsel for the defense will offer you evidence, not theories, and will ask that you set this young girl free or send her to join her hus- band, according to your decision.”’ A gasp ran through the court room at this bold stroke, and as Matthew Rowe seated himself a murmur of something very like applause rose and swelled until checked by the sharp rap of the gavel. Claudia looked at him with all her heart in her eyes and smiled waveringly in wordless gratitude, but already the district attorney was on his COMmiclooe S (©