Which Was the Murderer? Page #2

"Which Was the Murderer?" by Robert Barr is a clever and engaging mystery that revolves around a murder case that baffles the authorities. The story follows a group of characters, each with their own secrets and motives, as they try to uncover the truth behind the crime. With a mix of intrigue, wit, and unexpected twists, Barr expertly navigates the complexities of human nature and deception, leading readers on a suspenseful journey filled with surprises. The novel explores themes of guilt, innocence, and the subjective nature of truth, making it a thought-provoking read for fans of classic detective fiction.

• Short story

								


"Oh, how can I tell you? I don't suppose they speak the truth to me,
but when they come again I shall insist upon knowing just what they
think. But tell me this: is it true that if John lives through the week
his murderer will escape?"

"How do you mean, escape?"

"Is it the law of the State that if my husband lives till the end of
this week, the man who shot him will not be tried for murder?"

"He will not be tried for murder," said the lawyer, "but he may not be
tried for murder even if John were to die now. His friends will
doubtless try to make it out a case of manslaughter as it is; or
perhaps they will try to get him off on the ground of self-defence.
Still, I don't think they would have much of a chance, especially as
his case will come before Judge Brent; but if John lives past twelve
o'clock on Saturday night, it is the law of the State that Radnor
cannot be tried for murder. Then, at most, he will get a term of years
in a state prison, but that will not bother him to any great extent. He
has a strong political backing, and if his party wins the next state
election, which seems likely, the governor will doubtless pardon him
out before a year is over."

"Is it possible," cried the wife, "that such an enormous miscarriage of
justice can take place in a State that pretends to be civilised?"

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "I don't bank much on our
civilisation," he said. "Such things occur every year, and many times a
year."

The wife walked up and down the room, while her brother tried to calm
and soothe her.

"It is terrible--it is awful!" she cried, "that such a dastardly crime
may go unavenged!"

"My dear sister," said the lawyer, "do not let your mind dwell so much
on vengeance. Remember that whatever happens to the villain who caused
all this misery, it can neither help nor injure your husband."

"Revenge!" cried the woman, suddenly turning upon her brother; "I swear
before God that if that man escapes, I will kill him with my own hand!"

The lawyer was too wise to say anything to his sister in her present
frame of mind, and after doing what he could to comfort her he
departed.

On Saturday morning Mrs. Forder confronted the physicians.

"I want to know," she said, "and I want to know definitely, whether
there is the slightest chance of my husband's recovery or not. This
suspense is slowly killing me, and I must know the truth, and I must
know it now."

The physicians looked one at the other. "I think," said the elder,
"that it is useless to keep you longer in suspense. There is not the
slightest hope of your husband's recovery. He may live for a week or
for a month perhaps, or he may die at any moment."

"I thank you, gentlemen," said Mrs. Forder, with a calmness that
astonished the two men, who knew the state of excitement she had
laboured under for a long time past. "I thank you. I think it is better
that I should know."

All the afternoon she sat by the bedside of her insensible and scarcely
breathing husband. His face was wasted to a shadow from his long
contest with death. The nurse begged permission to leave the room for a
few minutes, and the wife, who had been waiting for this, silently
assented. When the woman had gone, Mrs. Forder, with tears streaming
from her eyes, kissed her husband.

"John," she whispered, "you know and you will understand." She pressed
his face to her bosom, and when his head fell back on the pillow her
husband was smothered.

Mrs. Forder called for the nurse and sent for the doctors, but that
which had happened was only what they had all expected.

      *      *      *      *      *

To a man in the city jail the news of Forder's death brought a wild
thrill of fear. The terrible and deadly charge of Judge Brent against
the murderer doomed the victim, as every listener in the courthouse
realised as soon as it was finished. The jury were absent but ten
minutes, and the hanging of Walter Radnor did more perhaps than
anything that ever happened in the State to make life within that
commonwealth more secure than it had been before.
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