Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

696 “ This is bad, damned bad,” he growled. ‘“‘ What: in the world they ever paroled that ruffian for is beyond me/” Fear stood out in the judge’s eye—as well it might. For now he was remembering March 7, when he had imposed the penalty of the law on this Spike. The court room again. Duggan was up with a batch of six others, for sentence on various convictions. Again Judge Van Blount heard the clerk calling, “ Jeremiah H. Duggan!”’ Again he was peering through his glasses at that sinister figure. ‘“ Duggan, have you nothing to say why sentence should not be pronounced upon you?” “ Sure!” “Eh, what’s that?” Hundreds of times the judge had mouthed that formula with- out ever getting more than a shake of the head, a whispered “ No,’ in reply. But now Duggan’s “ Sure!” rang out with con- fident alacrity. Startled, the judge peered at this temerarious villain who dared take seriously’ the conventions of the law. “Sure, y’r honor, I got somethin’ to say, if I can say it just to you, an’ not to all these here other guys, too.” “To me, confidentially?” “ Veah, that’s the word. Confidential.” “ Well, Duggan,” smiled the judge, rath- er as a cat smiles at a caught mouse the while he toys with it—‘“ well, this is a bit irregular; but—step to the bench.” Duggan shambled to the bench and laid a hand on the greasy Bible there. “ Judge, y’r honor,” he began in a tone so low that none but Van Blount could hear—‘ judge, are you gonna send me acrost? A guy what never done it, ’t all?” The judge smiled even more, in a way both patronizing and superior—the kind of gmile that breeds more hatred than a blow. “My man, I must do my duty. The jury convicted you, according to due process of law.” How unctuous was the judge’s tone, orotund, well measured. “ And now I must sentence you.” “Must, eh? Judge, yr honor, ain’t there no hope fer me?” “Not unless new evidence has been in- troduced; and your counsel has made no move for a writ of error, a stay of—” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “Yes, but Judge—I never done—” ‘Come, come, Duggan!” Now the judge’s tone grew sharper. “I cannot argue with you! If you have nothing to offer in the way of—” “T only got my word, same as all along!”’ = Van Blount impatiently motioned him away. “Get back to the rail, there, Duggan! Enough of this, now!” “Wait a minute, judge!” hardly more than whispered the yegg. “ You see where my hand is? On that Bible? Well, ’'m under oath now. With meself—see?’”’ The criminal’s voice was one never to be for- gotten. In it snarled the jungle tiger, hissed the cobra, chattered the rattlesnake. A voice from the abyss it was, from the nether slimes of peril. ‘** You listen to me, now! I ain’t makin’ no grand stand play, nor shoutin’. But I’m tellin’ you! If you send me up, Ill be out some day. I'll be a model pris’ner, an’ get a lot of ‘ copper.’ An’ when I get out o’ stir, you’re gonna get out o’ the world! That’s level, judge! Il get you right, if it takes me all the rest o’ my life an’ I go to the chair for it! Il live long enough to smoke one cigarette over your carcass— an’ after that, what the hell do 7 care? That’s all. Now, go ahead an’ send me across. An’—you know!”’ The judge, purpling with indignation, snapped fat fingers for a bailiff. *“ Remove this man!” he ordered. And when Duggan, all meekness, had been led back to the other miscreants: “It is now by this court ordered, and the sentence of the court is, that you be imprisoned at hard labor in the penitentiary of the State of Massachusetts, at Charlestown, for the term of twenty years.” The judge, still swollen with rage, glared down at his enemy. Very unjudicial, in- deed, he looked, in that moment of triumph. He added: “T regret, Duggan, that I am unable to impose a greater penalty. It would be for the good of society. But I have given you the maximum. Next prisoner!” “Thanks, judge!” laughed Duggan. Laughed, yes; though in his eyes smoldered comichooksicom