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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Now that you've got your mitts up, keep 'em up!" As regards the position of his hands Trencher obeyed. He turned his head though, and over his shoulder he looked into the middle-aged face of Murtha, of the Central Office. Murtha's right hand was in his coat pocket and Trencher knew that Murtha had him covered through the cloth of the coat.
"It may be possible it is possible," shot out the young District Attorney, "to make use of secret records conversations at conferences dinners records that have been taken by a new invention that seems to be revolutionizing politics all over the country." The look that crossed Murtha's face was positively apoplectic. The veins in his forehead stood out like whipcords.
"Too late?" queried Kennedy sharply. "What do you mean?" The man answered promptly as if that were the quickest way to get back to his own errand. "Mr. Murtha escaped from his keepers this evening, just after dinner, and there is no trace of him." Murtha's escape from the sanitarium had again thrown our calculations into chaos.
I wondered whether it was because of his confidence that Kennedy would pull him through. "You know," he whispered, "I have been working with my assistants on Dopey Jack ever since the conviction, hoping to get a confession from him, holding out all sorts of promises if he would turn state's evidence and threats if he didn't. It all had no effect. But Murtha's death seems to have changed all that.
Dopey Jack, Murtha's right-hand man, had been sentenced to State's prison! Outside the courtroom Carton received an ovation. As quickly as he could, he escaped from the newspapermen, and Kennedy was the first to grasp his hand. But the most pleasing congratulation came from Miss Ashton, who had dropped in with two or three friends from the Reform League. "I'm so glad, Mr.
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