Speaker 1: 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