Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

IN on his face, just as he had been found. The girl saw to that. She saw that the body was not touched. , “And we went over the ground. Inside the door of the barn we found that gun with two cartridges exploded. It had been thrown there after the murder. I found the gun, and after the bulletsewere taken out of Farley’s body, I found they fitted it. I turned the gun over to Chris, who will remember it as clearly as I do. “Two days later it was gone; stolen out of his desk. Some one had cut out the lock. Chris and I agreed to keep silent on it, trusting the murderer to betray him- self by showing us the gun. And now Wert claims it is his.” The old man stopped short and his head sunk upon his breast. Farley glared at him with his jaw dropping and a dazed glitter in his eyes. “Ts this so, Christofferson?” Cosgrove’s voice cracked the silence. ‘“‘Shore!’”’ Chris answered vehemently. “True as gospel!” “Why, Brad, you remember when you showed me your gun!” cried Gaines. “TI said they could never pin Farley’s death on you—because I knew the gun that did it!” Cosgrove took the gun from his hand and held it toward Farley. “Your gun?” he asked quietly. Farley stared at him for a moment, and then went suddenly and horribly to pieces. He plunged forward and grasped Cosgrove by his arms, hanging to him, pleading with him. “No!” he shrieked. “ Not mine! Before God, not mine!” Fearing he was about to do Cosgrove violence, they tore him away and in the arms of the men he struggled, raving. “ Klien killed him!” he shouted. “ It was Klien. His gun! TI took it from him when he dropped, and hid it in the floor! Lederer will tell you! Slade, he’ll tell you! He found me pokin’ about the board that was loose! I took it and hid it so’s to have evidence against Cosgrove! It was Klien shot my brother Mase! “Not me! Not me! I swear it! My God, I swear to my soul it wasn’t me! I THE EVENT OF DEATH. 275 didn’t know nothing about it till this min- ute. Klien must have wanted to see that will work out too soon! He couldn’t wait! Don’t you see? Can’t you see? Won't you believe what I say?” He mouthed and shrieked his confession and his plea, sweeping the court room with his imploring gaze, seeking for one com- passionate face among all those silent, grim counfenances. Only one pitying glance he sought, and he found it in his niece. She came down from the witness stand, and ap- proached him in compassion. “Yes,” she said softly. ‘ We hear you. We believe you.” But with an inarticulate cry he flung himself away from her and_ stumbled blindly toward the door. He could not bear her sympathy. He had found the pity he desired, and he could not stand it. As if fascinated, they watched him blun- der forth, like a drunken man. Saw him feel his way through the doorway as though blind. And they did not stop him; not a soul in the court room suggested holding him. They let him depart, for even sub- consciously every one there divined that there was another matter which must be concluded before all else. _ When the door closed behind the shat- tered genius of the prosecution, Cosgrove again forestalled the crowd. “Your honor!” he cried with his clear, ringing voice. “Gentlemen of the jury! The defense rests its case. We rest upon a plea of self defense!” Again he had pronounced the unexpected, and, having given his case to the jury, he turned, and leading Hazel Farley to a seat, flung himself down in a chair beside her. But his honor was not equal to this situa- tion. Having long since lost the reins of his office, he could not thus peremptorily re- gain them. After a moment of stupid silence, he turned to Creevy. “ What d’ you do now?” he mumbled. “Turn it over to the jury.” said Creevy hastily, and thus washed his hands of the unclean case he had handled. His honor turned with dignity to Slade. “You heard the trial,” he pronounced portentously. “ What do you say? Guilty or not guilty?” —comicbooks