Officers were now more than ever on the alert. Everybody was anxious to
win the magnificent reward, and it now seemed very easy of attainment,
since the real murderer was known.
Would he fall finally into the hands of the law?
This was the question that Rose asked many times of herself. It would be
justice, and yet it would grind her heart to know of his dying on the
scaffold.
Was he guilty?
Another question.
Could she doubt it, remembering the scene in the garden at the house of
her lover?
One evening while Rose, unattended, was hastening along the street toward
the city prison, she suddenly became aware that a man was following her.
There was something in his walk and general appearance that seemed
familiar, but she could not see his face, since his hat was down low,
shading it completely.
She had reached the entrance to the sheriff's office, and placed her hand
on the knob, when the man sprang quickly to her side and seized her arm.
She uttered a startled cry and pushed open the door.
"One moment, Rose!" cried the man, hoarsely. He snatched the hat from his
head and bent his face close hers.
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