Dead Men’s Letters

“The girl with the mole was a detective. That was why I had been warned against her. She managed to call the police and that interfered with my plans. The operator heard your voice imploring for help, connected the line with the police station, traced the call and they came out. That gummed my game. I had expected the death of the arch crook and then I wanted to get that paper after the gang had looted the safe of jewelry. I knew they wouldn’t touch papers, but would only take gems and cash. The arrival of the police made it difficult; but — well, I burnt that letter.”

Helen hung her head a trifle.

“I should have had more confidence in you, Ed. When I realized that you were baiting a trap with yourself, and, watching in the night, saw you go, I determined that I’d give myself up before I’d let you take such chances, run such dangers. I went directly to this man to surrender, to let him keep the paper, to do anything to obtain your safety.”

Loring Kemper blew his nose violently.

His wife was watching us with a tolerant, indulgent smile.

“Mr. Kemper thinks he can get pardons for you, Ed,” went on the girl, “fix it so you will be free to come and go as you choose… to live like any other person… to have a business… join clubs… settle down…”

I kept my eyes averted while I tried to tell them.

“That would be wonderful of him, mighty square; but you don’t understand, Helen. I am of the shadows. Society is against me and always will be, in spite of all the pardons in the world. My wife would always be known as the wife of a crook… my children would be handicapped from the start. My name tarnishes that which it touches… Excuse me a minute. I’ll get some things from my room.”

With that I was up, bowing casually, and through the portieres. I could not stand more. I loved her, and my ways were of the half-world, the borderland. I could not bring disgrace upon a thoroughbred, and they could not understand.

They did not suspect my purpose, but waited for my return, and I sprinted down the hall, through the side door, across the dewy grass, and into the taxicab.

“Anywhere,” I snapped at the driver as I banged the door shut.

He looked at me curiously, started the car with a lurch and rounded the corner.