by the matron at the county jail, was permitted to visit me alone for fifteen minutes in my cell.
It was a heart-rending fifteen minutes. It was not Marie, the notorious female crook, who wept on my shoulder; it was Marie my heart-broken wife.
The promises and vows we made would fill a chapter, but at last the relentless hand of the law wrested her from me, and several hours later I was alone in a cell at the state prison.
Ah, those interminable days of monotony! Idleness, the horrible spectre that kills the spirit of prisoners, was my daily lot. Only the favored ones and short-termers were given work in that prison. Doing time!
My only relief from the awful drag was Marie's weekly letters. I counted the hours between them; I read them daily until another one came. For two years Marie's letters came every week. Then came intervals of two weeks, three weeks, sometimes a month between them. It was hell, and worse, when they ceased to come at all.
What was wrong? Had the Black Hawks disbanded? Or, worse still, had they been captured? I watched and expected daily to see some of the old gang's familiar faces in the large mess hall at the prison. They did not come.
Several months passed with no word from Marie. I was almost crazed with anxiety. Then, quite unexpectedly, something happened one quiet morning.
The warden was making his weekly tour of inspection through the buildings. He merely glanced into my cell as he passed down the gallery. A second later another figure darted past the cell door.
I recognized the second figure as Angelio Sigari, a life-termer, whose cell was next to mine and who was said to be mentally unbalanced. I caught the glint of steel in the Italian's hand as he flitted by the open door.
In an instant I was after him. I was not a second too soon. The unsuspecting warden had halted to look into a cell. Sigari was standing at the official's back, and in his upraised hand he clutched a case knife which had been whetted to a sharp point on the cement floor of his cell. Just as several guards shouted a tardy warning to the warden I struck Sigari on the jaw and he dropped unconscious, the knife falling from his hand to clatter on the cement corridor twenty feet below.
There was very little said. The warden merely took my name and told me to return to my cell. Guards carried the unconscious Italian away.
A week later I was called into the warden's office and informed that I had been pardoned by the governor and prison board.
It seemed a century—in reality it was two hours—before I was on a train and speeding back to the city. Free, Free! Free to return to Marie, the Black Hawks, Terry!
It was night when I arrived in the city. Several hours before arriving, however, I became extremely restless. What had happened during my time in prison? Marie's failure to write for several months before my release worried me. Had something terrible happened?
A sickening thought suddenly entered my mind: Was Marie, my Marie, dead? Her vows, her promises to me—surely, all was not well.
I hurried through the station and emerged upon one of the main thoroughfares of the city. I had walked only several blocks when I became vaguely conscious that I was being followed.
Turning abruptly into a side street, I walked a block, turned into an alley and waited. A moment later a man entered the alley and halted directly before me. Even in the semi-darkness I recognized him as Zip Brinton, the Black Hawks' clever pickpocket.
"How in the world did you get out of the pen so soon, Hal?" he asked, advancing and grasping my hand.
"Pardoned," I explained briefly. "Where is the gang? How are Terry and Marie? Hurry, Zip, I am worried half to death."
Zip dropped my hand and looked at me in surprise. "You haven't heard?" he asked sympathetically.
"I've heard nothing from Marie for several months."
Zip turned his head away and was silent for a full half minute.
"I don't know how things are with the gang right now," he finally said. "You see, I haven't been a member of the B. H. for the past two months."
"You—you quit them?" I demanded, half angrily.
"Yes, by request of the gang's present leader, Terry Garlock."
"Terry asked you to quit?"
"Not asked—demanded. Terry and I had some heated words. I told him what I thought of him for the dirty deal he handed you."
"Handed me?"
"Why, yes. Terry, you knew, married Marie on the very day she was divorced from you."
MARIE divorced me—married Terry!
The enormity of Zip's statement had struck me like a blow in the face.
Zip placed his arm about my shoulders. "Come with me, old man," he said gently. "You are all unstrung, and heaven knows you have been given a pretty rough deal. You need a bracer, then I'll tell you all about it."
Utterly crushed, I silently accompanied Zip through alleys and side streets, and in fifteen minutes I sprawled dejectedly in an easy chair in his room.
He produced some wine and glasses. My system, long free of alcohol, became fired as I gulped down several glasses of wine in quick succession. The stimulating effect of the liquor also brought with it a consuming rage, which, however, I successfully concealed from Zip.
I remained silent as he related all that had transpired with the Black Hawks during my absence. The gang, it appears, all but Zip, had accepted my downfall in Marie's heart and her acceptance of Terry as one of the many unfortunate vicissitudes peculiar to a temperamental woman. But—Terry a betrayer!
It was almost unbelievable. And Marie, the wife who wept on my shoulder and told me that every day away. from me would be an eternity, false!
"Will you return to the Black Hawks now?" Zip asked.
"I don't know what to do, Zip," I answered wearily, though in reality I had already determined on a course of action.
"Better turn in and sleep over it," Zip suggested. "I have several prosperous-looking prospects on my list for tonight and may not return before morning. Make yourself comfortable here, old man. And remember, Hal, I'm your friend."
A moment later he was gone. I waited several minutes to allow him ample time to get out of the building, then I proceeded to business. I went through the dresser drawers, a suitcase, and finally found what I wanted in Zip's trunk—a revolver fully loaded.
Twenty minutes later I rang the front door bell at Mother Maldrene's place. The landlady herself came to the door.
"Why, Hal Steadman!" she exclaimed effusively. Where—some in quick. Did you escape?"
"No; pardoned. Any of the gang here?"
"Yes, they are in session now in the basement. I'll go and tell them you are here. Sit down."
