arriage, with its
beautiful nervous horses. Father put my arm through his and said, "Do
you think you can get across the street?"

"Oh, yes," I said, surprised that he should suppose I could not, since,
except for that queer feeling of not having any emotions at all, I felt
quite well.

He took me over to the restaurant. "But I am not hungry," I said. And
father answered, "Probably not." Then, turning to the waiter, "A glass
of brandy, please, and call me a carriage."

I sat down at a table near the window, and pushing aside the curtain a
little, looked out at the court-house entrance on the other side of the
street. In front of it a little group of men in uniform was waiting.
I could see the last of the sunlight catch on their side-arms and
bayonets. A good many people were coming out, and more were gathering
in from Kearney Street, and up from Montgomery. The police kept
shaking their clubs and trying to make them walk away. But in spite of
all they could do the crowd gathered and gathered, and made a sort of
narrow lane down the steps and across the sidewalk. Presently the
Spanish Woman's carriage drew up just opposite this narrow way, and
down the steps she came, like a queen, with her black veil sweeping
over her face, stepped in and was carried quickly down the street. But
as she passed I saw that her head was bent and that she was holding a
handkerchief in front of her face.

I swallowed the brandy in a few gulps, scarcely knowing what it was,
and kept watching the prison door, for I had the greatest longing to
see Johnny Montgomery again. But presently our carriage came, so I had
to go out and get into it. Just as we were making the turn across the
street, I was face to face with the prison door, and at that moment
they brought him out.

The guard passed close to us, and I saw his face as white and set as if
he were already dead. "I have killed him," I thought, though that
thought did not bring me any special feeling.

For a few moments we seemed to be caught in the crowd, the driver
couldn't get forward with the horses, and I could turn my head and
watch the little escort moving off down the street.

It was after sunset now, just beginning to be dusky. The sad gray
twilight was over everything, and as the figures retreated they merged
into a single dark mass in the throat of the street. As this mass
reached Jackson Street corner, there was an outcry. In the peaceful
stillness of the eve