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The Death House
by
Kennedy said nothing for a few minutes, but from his tone when he did speak it was evident that he was deeply touched.
“Since our marriage we lived with old Mr. Godwin in the historic Godwin House at East Point,” she resumed, as he renewed his questioning. “Sanford–that was my husband’s real last name until he came as a boy to work for Mr. Godwin in the office of the factory and was adopted by his employer–Sanford and I kept house for him.
“About a year ago he began to grow feeble and seldom went to the factory, which Sanford managed for him. One night Mr. Godwin was taken suddenly ill. I don’t know how long he had been ill before we heard him groaning, but he died almost before we could summon a doctor. There was really nothing suspicious about it, but there had always been a great deal of jealousy of my husband in the town and especially among the few distant relatives of Mr. Godwin. What must have started as an idle, gossipy rumour developed into a serious charge that my husband had hastened his old guardian’s death.
“The original will–THE will, I call it–had been placed in the safe of the factory several years ago. But when the gossip in the town grew bitter, one day when we were out, some private detectives entered the house with a warrant–and they did actually find a will, another will about which we knew nothing, dated later than the first and hidden with some papers in the back of a closet, or sort of fire proof box, built into the wall of the library. The second will was identical with the first in language except that its terms were reversed and instead of being the residuary legatee, Sanford was given a comparatively small annuity, and the Elmores were made residuary legatees instead of annuitants.”
“And who are these Elmores?” asked Kennedy curiously.
“There are three, two grandnephews and a grandniece, Bradford, Lambert, and their sister Miriam.”
“And they live–“
“In East Point, also. Old Mr. Godwin was not very friendly with his sister, whose grandchildren they were. They were the only other heirs living, and although Sanford never had anything to do with it, I think they always imagined that he tried to prejudice the old man against them.”
“I shall want to see the Elmores, or at least some one who represents them, as well as the district attorney up there who conducted the case. But now that I am here, I wonder if it is possible that I could bring any influence to bear to see your husband?”
Mrs. Godwin sighed.
“Once a month,” she replied, “I leave this window, walk to the prison, where the warden is very kind to me, and then I can see Sanford. Of course there are bars between us besides the regular screen. But I can have an hour’s talk, and in those talks he has described to me exactly every detail of his life in the–the prison. We have even agreed on certain hours when we think of each other. In those hours I know almost what he is thinking.” She paused to collect herself. “Perhaps there may be some way if I plead with the warden. Perhaps–you may be considered his counsel now–you may see him.”
A half hour later we sat in the big registry room of the prison and talked with the big-hearted, big-handed warden. Every argument that Kennedy could summon was brought to bear. He even talked over long distance with the lawyers in New York. At last the rules were relaxed and Kennedy was admitted on some technicality as counsel. Counsel can see the condemned as often as necessary.
We were conducted down a flight of steps and past huge steel- barred doors, along corridors and through the regular prison until at last we were in what the prison officials called the section for the condemned. Every one else calls this secret heart of the grim place, the death house.