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Updated: May 22, 2025
"And then there is me and Bowen in Brentingville. That's all." "Well, Bowen will keep quiet for his own sake, and you won't mention it." "Certainly not." "Then let's all keep quiet. The thing's safe if some of those newspaper fellows don't get after it. It's not on record in the books, and I'll burn all the documents." And thus it was. Public opinion was once more vindicated.
The message was to himself from the operator at the capital, and it told him he was to forward the sheriff's telegram without delay, and report to the office at the capital a man's life depended on it, the message concluded. Bowen answered that the telegram to the sheriff would be immediately sent. Taking another telegraph blank, he wrote: "Sheriff of Brenting County, Brentingville.
He looked wildly around the room, then realised with a sigh of relief that he was alone, except for the messenger boy who sat dozing in a corner, with his cap over his eyes. He took up the telegram again, and read it with set teeth. "Sheriff of Brenting County, Brentingville. "Do not proceed further with execution of Prior. Sentence commuted. Documents sent off by to-night's mail registered.
He knew how mechanically news of the greatest importance was taken off the wire by men who have automatically been doing that for years. Anyhow all the copper and zinc in the world could not get a message into Brentingville, except through him, until the day operator came on, and then it would be too late.
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