Dzhon Dann - Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 75, No. 4, April 15, 1933

Charles Herrington Alone Knew the Hiding Place of the $5,000,000 and Herrington Was Going to the Chair With His Lips Stubbornly Sealed

The old delivery truck, with one headlight glaring white and the other darker than the night, squealed to a halt in front of the penitentiary gate.

Before it had stopped rolling, a bruised, dishevelled young man was off the running board. The youthful drivers lower jaw had been sagging in astonishment ever since he had picked up his strange, forceful passenger among the Westchester hills. Now his jaw dropped to the limit as he looked at a bill which had just been thrust into his hand.

Without a word the stranger limped rapidly toward the gate of the prison.

The keeper on duty looked him over with a flicker of interest as he approached.

What youre looking for is the hospital, fellow, the guard declared, grinning. This is the big house.

Assistant District Attorney Mark Telfair of New York County to see Acting Warden Crawford, the visitor stated with crisp intensity. Open that gate!

The keeper thought of several witty retorts, but when he opened his mouth and the gate simultaneously, all he said was, Yes, sir. Cut, blood-stained and dirty though the tall young mans face might be, his blue eye punched a hole in the keeper.

In forty-five seconds Mark Telfair was in Deputy Warden Crawfords office. The gray-haired, mild-mannered acting head of the prison stood up in keen surprise at the condition of this young representative of New Yorks reform district attorney. His coat was split up the back; his collar torn loose from his neck; a lacerated knee showed through a gaping rent in one trouser leg. He was muddy from head to loot. On his taut countenance dried blood mingled with the mud. There was mud caked in his light brown hair.

Whats the time? Mark Telfair demanded. My watch was broken in the spill.

Theres plenty of time plenty, Warden Crawford assured him. The execution is set for eleven-thirty; it is only ten twenty-five now. But youre hurt, man I must call Doc

Telfairs injured leg buckled under him; he dropped into a chair with a grunt of pain. But he sat bolt upright. Forget the doctor, Warden. I bear a conditional reprieve from the governor for Charles Herrington,

The governors secretary telephoned that you were coming, Warden Crawford said. A conditional reprieve, you say? What

Herrington must speak! Telfair replied.

Herrington must speak! Warden Crawford repeated. What But what happened to you, Telfair?

A roadhog in a heavy roadster crowded me off onto a steep slope. When my car stopped rolling and I came to I had to dig myself out from under.

He pulled out of his coat pocket a thin metal rod about four inches long with an onyx knob on one end. Scowling, he regarded it.

Thats my only clew to the fellow who wrecked me, he said. When he jammed his fenders against mine this little guide, fastened to the outer edge of his front fender, was snapped off. I found it on the road.

A roadhog! murmured the warden. Are you sure it was no one else?

Whod profit by melodrama? Mark Telfair demanded. If my failure to get here meant life for Herrington there might be a reason. But it doesnt, necessarily.

Nevertheless I would turn that thing over to the local detective force, Warden Crawford asserted. It is a valuable clew. You say you bring a

I bring Herrington a mere respite, if he wants to take it.

The acting warden sighed. I had hoped that until Warden Grant recovered from his ptomaine attack there would be no executions, he said plaintively. I am a humanitarian, Mr. Telfair; I deeply appreciate your self-sacrificing effort to reach the prison in time to give Herrington at least one more chance of life

Mark Telfair snorted as he laid a document on the wardens desk. Crawford caught it up at once.

Im a humanitarian, too, Warden, Mark Telfair said curtly. I might not sentence Herrington to the chair for killing Detective Mahon but Id pull the switch on him with my own fingers if it would help us find that five million he stole from hundreds of poor devils of depositors. I know two of them. Ones an old carpenter going blind slowly. The others a scrubwoman crippled with rheumatism who figured that her three children would never go to institutions while she had her nest-egg. There have been three suicides.

He dragged himself to his feet again while the warden examined the governors conditional reprieve. Five million will buy a lot of bread and butter these days, Warden. Herriffgtons robbery wrecked that bank. If hed give up his loot the bank could open again.

Im here to find out where that money is; Herrington may live or die and be damned to him!

Warden Crawford, now standing with shoulders drooping, nodded disconsolately.

I did not dare hope that he would be reprieved, he said. A bank cashier who deliberately plans to put his crime upon an assistants shoulders and shoots a police officer when his plans go wrong is not likely to win the clemency of our governor.

His defense that he thought Detective Mahon was a crook was too thin, Mark Telfair declared. When Mahon stopped him at the 138th Street bridge he had the stuff in his car. Right then Herrington realized thered been a slip-up and it was the pen for him. Coolly he killed Mahon, changed his plan to straight flight, and tried to get away.

It may have been panic, not plan, that made him kill, the acting warden pointed out.

His brain was working fine, the assistant D. A. said crisply. Why? Because when he realized an hour later the cops were closing in on him he hid his loot somewhere among these Westchester hills.

Mark waved a hand toward the back country. And he did that so hed have a hold over the bank over the state itself. His original plan had probably been to secrete it on his own place in Yorktown Heights and then play the innocent bystander while his assistant whom he had framed went to the pen.

Well?

The governor will not bargain with Herrington. His attitude has been too defiant throughout; he is too confident that he will escape the chair. However, it might be possible to save hundreds of depositors from privation, if that million and a half in cash and three millions and a half in bonds is recovered.

The warden inclined his head in agreement.

The governors last word to Herrington, to be delivered by me tonight, is that he will grant a short reprieve if Herrington will disclose the whereabouts of the loot.

The governor will then review the evidence in the case, and decide whether Herrington is to die in the chair or to have his sentence commuted to life imprisonment. Thats all. May I see him at once?

Warden Crawford pressed one of a dozen buttons on a bakelite plate on his desk. First I must let him know that you are here. It does not do to spring things too suddenly upon a man under the tension of the death house with the chair an hour away.

A keeper knocked and entered.

Naylor, tell Herrington that Assistant District Attorney Telfair is here from the governor, the acting warden said. Ask if Herrington will see him at once. Then come back and take Mr. Telfair over. How is Herrington standing up?

Hes cheerful, sir, replied the gaunt death house guard. Full of spirit.

When the door had closed on Keeper Naylor, Mark Telfair spoke. Ill tell Martin Smythe the governors decision. Herringtons entitled to have his counsel know whats going on. Where is Smythe?