David Dunne, the "governor who could do
no wrong." It was not a conflict between right and wrong that was
being waged, for Jud had been one to the prison born.

David reviewed the series of offenses Jud had perpetrated, punishment
for which had ever been evaded or shifted to accomplices. He recalled
the solemn promise the offender had made him long ago when, through
David's efforts, he had been acquitted--a promise swiftly broken and
followed by more daring transgressions, which had culminated in one
enormous crime. He had been given the full penalty--fifteen years--a
sentence in which a long-suffering community had rejoiced.

Jud had made himself useful at times to a certain gang of ward heelers
and petty politicians, who were the instigators of this petition,
which they knew better than to present themselves. Had they done so,
David's course would have been plain and easy; but the petition was to
be conveyed directly and personally to the governor, so the article
read, by the prisoner's father, Barnabas Brumble.

By this method of procedure the petitioners showed their cunning as
well as their knowledge of David Dunne. They knew that his sense of
gratitude was as strong as his sense of accurate justice, and that to
Barnabas he attributed his first start in life; that he had, in fact,
literally blazed the political trail that had led him from a country
lawyer to the governorship of his state.

There were other ties, other reasons, of which these signers knew not,
that moved David to heed a petition for release should it be
presented.

Again he seemed to see his mother's imploring eyes and to hear her
impressive voice. Again he felt around his neck the comforting, chubby
arms of the criminal's little sister. Her youthful guilelessness and
her inherent goodness had never recognized evil in her wayward
brother, and she would look confidently to "Davey" for service, as she
had done in the old days of country schools and meadow lanes.

On the other hand, he, David Dunne, had taken a solemn oath to do his
duty, and his duty to the people, in the name of justice, was clear.
He owed it to them to show no leniency to Jud Brumble.

So he hovered between base ingratitude to the man who had made
him, and who had never before asked a favor, and non-fulfillment of
duty to his people. It was a wage of head and heart. There had never
been moral compromises in his code. There had ever been a right and
a wrong--plain roads, wit