The gallows by I W. D. Peters to morrow morning at sunrise.
I am to hang for the murder of a man at sunrise on the ninth
of June, the anniversary of my wedding day. I am to be hanged
by the neck until I am dead. I am glad this state has not
yet adopted the use of electricity in executions. I prefer to spend my last
moments out in the open under the sky. The building of the gallows is
finished, the workmen are gone, and it seems that the execution at sunrise
is certain to take place. But every step along the corridor sends my heart
into my mouth. Gladys is working for a reprieve. I am praying she
will not succeed. The governor is off fishing away from railroad and telegraph.
If they do not locate him in a few hour hours, I shall be
hanged. God grant they fail to find him. It is Gladys's will against
mine. She usually wins, but every passing minute lessens her chance to have
her way in this. It is now ten minutes to midnight. Doctor Brander,
the prison chaplain, has left me gratified, poor fellow, that he
has succeeded in reconciling me to my fate. If he had known that the
tall skeleton of wood outside, with its lank line of rope, was in
my mind a refuge, he would have turned from me in horror. The
next five hours will be the longest of my life. Every step in the
corridor strikes fear to my heart. It is not because I am guilty of
the crime for which I was sentenced that I am glad to die. I
am guilty, but that doesn't mean I deserve to die. I am going
to hang tomorrow at sunrise because I want to be hung. I could have
saved myself, but refused to do so, solely because life had lost its
savor. A great wave of disgust with living possessed and still possesses me.
I am writing these words now that Gladys may know the truth. She has
tried to see me ever since I was brought here, and I have refused
to be seen. That is one right a condemned man has to refuse to
see visitors. From the day we were married, Gladys demanded to know my
every thought, my every act, every hour of the day. If ever
one of them was not connected with her. She criticized, condemned, or
cried. She resented, in bitterly spoken words and equally bitter acts, the
small recesses of my soul that I, for the sake of my own sine
self respect, kept to myself. Finally, she determined to show me that
there were other men who appreciated her if I did not. For a while
after that, all hours of the day and night my home was infested with
lounge lizards. I endured it without a word, which infuriated her. Lester
Kane, a young fellow, honest and simple, was her first victim.
The first time I found him seated beside her on the dimly lit porch,
I welcomed him warmly. We smoked and talked of our days in the army
together. I felt that Gladys could safely flirt with such as Leicester, if
that was what she wanted. But Lester called only a few times after that.
For two months there was a succession of young fellows about the place.
Our house is not far from the west More Country Club, and the golf
links came almost up to our side yard. Our porch was a convenient place
to drop in. Suddenly, all that sort of thing ceased. Gladys was
away a great deal, but as her mother lived in a town just a
few miles away, I thought nothing of it. She became very quiet,
was thoughtful, absent, minded, flushed easily, seemed not herself. At
first I was a good deal puzzled. Then suddenly an explanation for the change
in her dawned on me. Joy filled my soul. I was inordinately gentle
with her, bought her a small automobile for her birthday, did everything I
could think of for her comfort and pleasure. After all, I told myself
the emotional phase she had passed through was natural. Marriage is a more difficult
readjustment with some than others. It had evidently been so with Gladys. If
a child came to us, it would make everything right. A child,
our child, it was wonderful to think of. She had always refused to
consider the subject, saying that she wished to enjoy life while she was young.
But she knew I wanted a son to bear my name, a daughter
to inherit her beauty, and she had accepted the inevitable. A wave of
excitation made me feel as if I were treading on cloud I longed to mention
the subject to her, but I felt that the first word about it should
come from her. I spent hours thinking of tender, loving things to do
for her. She accepted everything quietly, sometimes with averted face and flushed cheeks.
I would draw her inert figure into my arms and hold her close,
but she made no response to my demonstrative affection. At this stage, the
affairs of my firm sent me on a ten day trip to close a western
deal. It was hard to leave Gladys, but now more than ever,
I felt that we would need money, and lots of it. We arranged
for Gladys to go to her mother's and I was to join her there on
my return. It is the same old story. I came home before I
was expected, and went straight to our cottage with the intention of having Gladys's
room redecorated before bringing her home. At the gate stood Gladys's car. I
rushed into the house, but there was no one on the lower floor,
nor in Gladys's room, nor mine. I was about to descend the stairs
when I heard a low laugh from the third floor. I dashed up there
and stood gazing at the closed door of the spare room what's the idea of
running away from me, asked the man. You can't blow hot and cold
with me. I told you not to come here again. It's not safe.
I'm not afraid of that husband of yours. You are mine, and
you're going to stay mine. I had listened intently but could not recognize the
man's voice. Go now, pleaded Gladys, and I'll come to your rooms
this evening. Not on your life. I'm here now and I'm going to
stay. Let go of me. You're hurting my shoulder. There was a
sound of a scuffle. I tried the door. It was locked. I
put my shoulder to it. The lock snapped. Gladys gave a cry leapt
away from the man, A man whom I had never seen before, the
lipped, black browed type, big soft As I took in the scene,
the tousled woman, the flush faced man, a great wave of disgust almost
overwhelmed me, well, said the man, sneeringly. What are you going
to do about it? If you take her away now and treat her right,
nothing, And if I don't take her away, I'll meet that situation
when it comes. It has come, he said, with a laugh,
and walked out. I am tall, slender, delicate looking, but I
knew I was a match for that overfed brute. I listened to the clatter
of his feet on the stairs. Then I followed him. The man was
hastening toward a street car. I cranked Gladys's car and followed. It was
easy to keep the street car in sight and to keep eye on his sleek
black head. He left the car at Hanson Street. I, without a
glance toward him, kept on a head. I turned at the corner in
time to see him enter an office building. I was not far behind him
when he took the elevator. The man in the elevator gave me the number
of his office. He was telling a joke to his typist as I entered,
but his laughter died when he saw me, You dirty thief. You'll
never cheat another man out of money. His look of astonishment as I shouted
these words was amusing. He tried to give blow for blow, but I
meant what I said when I shouted at him, I've come here to kill
you. To choke the life out of an over fed beast is not so
hard to an infuriated man. In less than a quarter of an hour he
was dead. The police, for whom the Typist had called, filled the
room even before I had straightened out my disheveled clothing. I practically tried my
own case, and I was skillful enough to make every word apparently uttered in
my own defense, sound black against me. Gladys tried to save me by
telling the true story of the affair, but I made a picture of her
as a devoted, self sacrificing wife, willing to ruin even her spotless name
to save her husband. I enjoyed seeing her cringe as I did this.
So skillfully had she and the big brute managed that there was not a bit
of evidence to substantiate her story. On the other hand, there was a
typist story to help me, and too, it was known that I had
speculated in the past, and that I had lost some money. I made
the most of every everything against me, and it was enough, And it
was enough. I was sentenced to hang on the ninth day of June at
sunrise. Gladys came to the jail to see me while the trial was going
on. But I managed to act just as if my story were the true
one and hers not. And though she pleaded with me to let the truth
come out. I would not admit that the truth had not come out.
The sentence was a terrible shock to her. Her mother carried her from the
courtroom in a faint before she recovered I was in prison. I shall welcome
the hour of sunrise, as I have never welcomed any moment in my life.
Not until then will the fear of a reprieve leave me. Gladys is
moving heaven and earth to locate the governor. God grant that she does not
succeed. It is four forty five. I have spent much of the night
of the window gazing out into the darkness. What comes after death? That
is the question I suppose all men ask at the end of life. I
have never done so. It is a feudal question, one which none of
us can answer. But I believe there will be a circes from the nausea
that comes to those who have known disillusion and disappointment. Ten minutes to five,
Now, surely I am safe from the chance of a reprieve. Footsteps
in the corridor. Is it my escort to the gallows? Or what I
fear most on earth? A statement from the warden of Larson penitentiary. If
Taylor had spent the brief period always allotted to a criminal for a few last
words, his reprieve would have reached us in time to stay the execution.
But he walked calmly, unfalteringly up to the gallows and helped us, with
steady hands adjust the cap and ropes, and he was dead two minutes before
the governor's message reached us. The end of the gallows