[Sam Davis, A Fair Exchange, The Overland Monthly, May 1884]

 

1884.] A Fair Exchange. 499

 

A FAIR EXCHANGE.

I.

            DURING the latter part of February, 1873, an Italian fisherman, grappling for some lost chains at the foot of Commercial Street wharf, San Francisco, found his irons entangled in something which required an extra outlay of strength to raise. Several times the grapple lost its hold, and when the weight was finally brought to the surface, the unsightly face of a corpse parted the muddy waters of the bay, and so suddenly confronted the fisherman, that he loosened his hold upon the rope, and allowed the face to disappear. In a few moments it was again drawn up, and finally deposited upon the wharf. The idlers who were wont to lounge in the vicinity slowly gathered about the body; the saloons along the water front contributed their quota, women and children swarmed from the Tenements, and within fifteen minutes several hundred people had reached the spot.

            As the mud and slime of the bay gradually trickled from the body, and the sun dried the salt water from the face, half a dozen people attempted to identify the dead, and presently disputes arose as to who he might have been when living. The object of their curiosity was dressed in broadcloth, and the feet were encased in French calf; a circumstance which tended to arouse the prejudices of the rabble. When the police arrived, they found a stab in the neck, and the mark of a cut across the back of the right hand. The legs were tied together at the knees, and a piece of pig iron, weighing about fifty pounds, had been lashed to the waist by a sailor's knot.

            The dead-cart soon conveyed the find to the Coroner's office, and next morning the newspapers devoted a column or so apiece to the mystery. As the remains tainted the atmosphere of the morgue for a couple of weeks, they were identified and disowned by five separate persons; and finally buried in a pine shell, leaving the matter still as much a mystery as on that afternoon when the body fouled with the fisherman's grappling hooks.

            The detectives, however, were not idle, and the police and the tireless reporters of the press vied with each other in discovering and tracing clues. Who should first fix the date of the killing ? A reporter on a daily paper announced that it was Thursday, February the 13th. His theory was based upon the fact that on the afternoon of the 13th the owner of the Shamrock, a fishing smack, had purchased a bar of pig iron at a junk shop, and broken it in two pieces to use as ballast for his boat. He put out from the wharf on the morning of the 14th, complaining that one of the pieces of iron had been stolen the night before. The news gatherer held that the weight attached to the body was the missing piece of iron. In spite of the assertions of the police to the contrary, this theory proved correct, as the Shamrock arrived in a few days, and the skipper identified his missing ballast by simply fitting the broken parts together. He also gave a satisfactory account of his whereabouts on the 13th, and it was evident that he had really been the victim of a theft.

            By this time the newspaper discussion had so stirred the curiosity of the town that little else was talked of beyond the "Commercial Street wharf mystery," as it was commonly known. It was the topic of the boudoir, the street car, and the grog shop, and new and startling theories were advanced daily.

            Still the body was not identified, and the murderer was not arrested.

II.

            On the 10th of March following the events I have related, I was at the residence of John Denton, in Oakland ; I had arrived about noon, and expected within one hour to be

500      A Fair Exchange.           [May,

married to his daughter, Helen Denton, after an acquaintance and courtship of less than six months. The members of the family were all pleased with the match, except the aunt of my prospective wife, who seemed to have many misgivings over the affair, always insisting that Mary, Helen's sister, should have been the bride.

            "It'll all be over at two o'clock, auntie," I said in a tone of forced cheerfulness.

            "Don't be too sure, young man," she answered dolefully; " there's many a slip between the cup and the—"

            A ring at the door bell cut her sentence short.

            " Some one wants to see Mr. Marston," said a voice in the hall, and I stepped out. There were two men standing in the door. The larger one asked me to come outside, and on the porch showed me a warrant for my arrest.

            "On what charge, pray?"

            "Murder."

            In a few seconds the household had filled the hall, Helen leading the way in her bridal robes. John Denton was the first to recover his composure and inquire for particulars. The officers gave the necessary information.

            " What!" he exclaimed, "the murder committed on Commercial Street wharf?"

            The two men nodded.

            I ventured to ask the amount of bail required.

            " We must take you to the city prison at once. We have no option in matters of bail.

            A moment later a pair of handcuffs were slipped over my wrists, and one of the men tapped me significantly upon the shoulder as he pointed to a hack standing at the gate. I turned to kiss Helen " good-by," but her aunt had led her back into the hall, and as I went down the steps between the officers I caught the tones of John Denton's voice :

            " This comes of making hasty matches with strangers."

            I entered the hack ; the door was slammed only to rebound again. As the driver was adjusting the catch, it gave Mary Denton time to run down the walk and grasp my shackled hand through the open window of the vehicle.

            " I don't think as the rest do, Mr. Marston. I know it will come out all right. If –"

            The driver wound his lash around his horses' flanks, the hand that clasped mine released its hold, and the sympathetic face disappeared.

            The hand seemed warmer than Helen's ever had. As we whirled away I began to think of my sudden reeling from the sunshine into the shadow. The cold professional look of my companions gave me neither encouragement nor sympathy. I thought with a thousand bitter pangs of the falling away of the Denton family from me upon the accusation of a crime of which I was guiltless. How little my affianced could have loved me to have made so sudden and willing a retreat. In the midst of this the fidelity of the heretofore plain and commonplace Mary was the bright and steady light gleaming in all this darkness. An hour later I had time to continue my reflections more at leisure in one of the iron cells of the city prison of San Francisco.

III.

            I will not weary the reader with what passed in my mind, during the next forty-eight hours. The detectives who had worked up the case called at my cell, and we had a short business interview.

            "Where were you on the night of Thursday, Feb. 13th ? "

            " I have not the slightest idea," I replied, " as I keep no diary of my movements."

            " Let me refresh your memory," said the elder, and apparently the more active one, of the two. " Did you not attend a ball at Platt's Hall ? "

            " I think I did."

            He produced from his pocketbook a tag which had been torn off a ball ticket. On the tag was my signature like this :

Date, Feb. 13th.

Name, George Marston.

Keep this for return check.

Not transferable.

1884.] A Fair Exchange. 501

            " That is my name. I used that ticket on the night of the ball; stayed in the Hall about ten minutes, and feeling unwell went out on the street for air."

            " You went down on Commercial Street wharf for air, did you not ?"

            A vague feeling of horror crept over me, but I finally answered :

            "I went to the wharf about midnight to get the fresh sea breeze."

            The two men exchanged glances. One of them then went out, and presently returned with five others. There were two Greek fishermen, two sailors and a saloon-keeper. They inspected me, one after another, and identified me as a person they had seen upon the wharf on the night of February 13th. The detectives appeared satisfied. After the usual legal proceedings, I was placed on trial for my life, for the murder of the unknown man whose body had been fished up from the Bay.

            The trial lasted but two days. The detectives testified that they had arrested me after finding the tag of the ball ticket lying half imbedded in the dirt of the wharf, within a few feet of where the body must have been bound with the ropes. They found that I had at one time served in the navy, and the ropes had been tied with a sailor's knot. They had also found a blood-stained button pressed in between the cracks of the planks, and on examining my room on Kearny Street, they had found a coat worn by me on the night of the murder, from which a button was missing, and the button found by them matched those which remained.

            The five witnesses before mentioned testified that they had seen me leave the wharf and hurry up the street. One of them had heard a cry for help half an hour before.

            An old woman, discovered the day before the case was called, swore positively that on that night she had seen a man bundle something off the wharf and walk hastily up the street. As he passed the street lamp on the corner she had caught full sight of his face, which face she identified as mine.

            My attorney made a strong plea, but no alibi could be proven, and the jury brought in a verdict of "Guilty, with a recommendation for mercy on account of previous good character."

            The Court sentenced me to San Quentin for life.

            I could see, in my own mind, how all this crushing mass of circumstantial evidence had accumulated. I had indeed visited the wharf on the night of the tragedy, simply to catch the sea breeze on my fevered face. I had carelessly thrown away the tag of my ball ticket. Discovering a loose button on my coat as it dangled by a single thread, I had pulled it off and cast it away also. This was as far as I could trace my connection with the bloody work, which possibly took place there half an hour later. I felt certain that a person resembling me had committed the act, which I was to expiate with a lifelong imprisonment. I could but bow to my fate.

            My case was carried to the Supreme Court where the sentence was confirmed.

IV.

            Two days later I found myself alone in a convict's cell and clad in a convict's suit. My misfortunes seemed to give me strength to endure, and a hope which never let me for a moment doubt that something would some day be brought to the surface of this horrible mystery to do me ample justice.

            My affianced never wrote, except a formal letter releasing me from my engagement. Mary wrote often, assuring me of her determination to ferret the dark work to the bottom. I doubted her ability to effect anything, but felt happy when these letters came.

            Two years passed monotonously. One day one of the new officers came to my cell and looked in. My back was turned, but I could feel his gaze just as plainly as one feels a cold blast of air when a door is opened. I knew the instant he took his eyes off me, and turned just as he closed the door. One night the same man -- I knew when I heard his step and felt in his presence that it was the same -- came in, and holding up his lantern

502 A Fair Exchange. [May,

gazed at my face. I cannot explain how it was, but when he went away I began to pace up and down the cell, possessed with a strange excitement. Two years of confinement had seemingly benumbed my mental faculties, and my brain had sunk into that dormant state which is in thorough accord with the routine of convict life and the surroundings of gray walls. From this on I was more active and wakeful, but my faculties seemed continually groping about, as a man moving in the dark stretches forth his hands expecting momentarily to touch something.

            The authorities soon found that I could be trusted with certain privileges without risk. Having a knowledge of pharmacy, I had much to do in the chemist's laboratory, and came into frequent contact with the new officer. Whenever we met his eyes always refused to confront mine, and one day it came upon me like a flash from the darkness that his face was an exact counterpart of my own, as were also his movements and general physique. None of the convicts appeared to have noticed the resemblance which now seemed to me so remarkable at least, none of them had ever mentioned the subject to me. The man's name was Henry Johnson.

            The next afternoon I was in the laboratory mixing some compound for a cold, when I heard Johnson and a guard talking in the next room.

            "That must have been some time ago," said Johnson.

            "O, no," replied the other carelessly; "it was when you kept books in the wharfinger's office at the foot of Commercial Street."

            I stopped stirring the mixture and strained my ears to hear more, but Johnson made no reply. When I went back to my cell that night, it was not to sleep but to think.

            What a grand place to think in is a prison cell! What hours of stillness and darkness and solitude ! For several weeks I had been without a companion ; now I was more than ever glad to be alone. Johnson was my living image, and had once kept books on Commercial Street wharf! I remembered how this man had studied me in my cell, and how strangely he had acted at various times in my presence. Here was the key to the murder for which I was suffering punishment. Could I ever find the door? Doubtless the witnesses had mistaken me for him on the trial, and testified to what they believed to be the truth. My unfortunate resemblance to this man Johnson might have deceived even acquaintances, under the circumstances. Although my brain had been stagnant since my imprisonment, now its sluggish waters became a whirlpool of plots and plans. Every circumstance of the case was being drawn into the sweep of the flood and rotated toward the vortex. Everything connected with the trial was revived to me, and I made a new study of it.

            As the days went by I concentrated all my thoughts upon some plan of proving to the world the guilt of Johnson. Six months passed, but I had made no progress with my plans. Mary Denton continued to write, and sometimes I thought of invoking her assistance. I knew she was doing what she could to clear my name, but I did not dare to mention this clue in my letter to her, every one of which passed under the eyes of the Warden. I had about given up hope when Johnson was taken sick with fever, and I was ordered to his bedside by the physician. There was considerable sickness in the prison, and being a trusty about the laboratory I had often acted as nurse and watcher. In this instance my duty was to act as nurse during the night. Chance had thrown this man under my hand when I least expected it, and I determined that before he recovered I would wring the secret from him. I contented myself with watching him the first night, but on the night following he was slightly delirious, and I gave him a few grains of hasheesh, the extract of Indian hemp.

            He soon became restless and voluble under the influence of the drug, and I mentioned the circumstance of the murder. It acted like an electric shock. He rose to a sitting posture, shouting and beating the air savagely with his arms.

            "Oh God!" he cried, "Where is the rope? I only gave him one stab before I threw him

1884.] A Fair Exchange. 503

over," and again he beat the air and defended himself against unseen foes. Then springing from the bed, he cowered at my feet and begged piteously for protection against the police.

            "Where did you kill him?" I whispered, bending over him.

            "I killed him on the wharf, and threw him into the bay, but he wouldn't stay down."

            "Why didn't you tie something to him?" I whispered again.

            "I did, but they pulled him up, iron and all. Don't you see him there, covered with slime? Can't you see that hole in his neck? Look ! he's rising up," and with a yell of terror he sprang partly to his feet, and fell back senseless.

            I lifted him upon the bed, as a nurse from an adjoining room, attracted by his outcry, came in and helped me to administer a quieting draught.

            There was now no longer any doubt. The murderer was before me. Should I denounce him to the authorities? I felt that it would be folly to do so. The path to justice, I had found to my cost, was not through the medium of the courts. The ground on which I stood was too uncertain, and I wanted time to reflect. On the third night I was sitting by his bed, thinking and planning with no results, when he again began raving of the murder. Suddenly, he rose half upright and said slowly:

            "Would that I could be in the place of the innocent man that they convicted!"

            "Why should he not be?" was my answering thought.

            The raving victim of my plots and author of my wrongs had supplied the cue.

V.

            The next evening I had fully decided upon what to do. I must put myself in the place of the sick man and leave him in mine. Of course he would have his story to tell after I had finished my work, but I cunningly anticipated him. When the Doctor made his evening visit I said:

            " You don't know me yet. I am another man entirely. I was drugged and my identity changed."

            He turned upon me with a quizzical look and replied: "Your watching is too much for you. I will put a new man on to-night. You had better go to bed and rest."

            I felt at once that I had lost ground by this foolish remark, and immediately acquiesced, but added that I would break the new man in. He soon returned with the new watcher, and as he left the apartment advised me to take some rest as soon as possible. I now had an opportunity to inspect my substitute. He was a fat, lazy sort of a man, more inclined to doze in an easy chair than worry his patient with anxious attentions. The sick man was unusually quiet, and by midnight my companion, soothed by the silence, was fast asleep and snoring. It was an unmistakably deep and heavy sleep, upon which I felt I could depend; but in case he should waken I had determined to ask his assistance.

            Lowering the light, I drew from my pocket a bottle of Cannabis Indica, which I had easily secured in the laboratory that afternoon, gave the patient a liberal dose, and in a few moments he was unconscious. The feat of putting my clothes upon his limp and helpless body was more difficult than I had anticipated, but I finally accomplished it. Then, lifting him in my arms, I staggered across the room and succeeded in depositing him upon a little cot where I had been in the habit of resting when overtasked with long watches. The vial containing the drug I took care to leave in the vest pocket of the clothes I had put upon him. A few moments later I had donned his fever-scented night shirt, not without some misgivings, and had taken his place in bed. It was none too soon, for the Doctor's footstep was in the hallway. It was not usual for him to call at this hour, but he evidently was distrustful of the abilities of the new watcher.

            " A nice pair of watchers," he remarked, as he noticed the two sleeping men.

            My companion woke up and insisted that he had only dozed for a moment. Walking over to the cot, the doctor paused before the senseless figure of Johnson.

504 A Fair Exchange. [May,

            " Poor fellow; his watching has worn him out. High fever" he continued, as he touched his forehead. " I ought to have sent him to bed long ago."

            By this time the new watcher was fairly aroused, and assisted the Doctor to take Johnson into the next room, where they removed the clothes I had so lately put upon him. The vial fell upon the floor as they removed the vest. The Doctor picked it up, and, after examining it, exclaimed:

            "What did the fool mean by taking this! A high old starter for a fever!" supplementing his remarks with frequent profane expletives. He was soon by my bedside, where, as he felt my pulse, he paused nonplussed; and no wonder. Johnson's fever had been much lower a few hours before. The nervous excitement had sent my pulse to a bounding gait, and my temperature was correspondingly high. As he was giving me a dose of medicine, Johnson broke forth again with ravings about the murder. The Doctor listened awhile, gave him a quieting draught, and, as he passed my bed again, muttered:

            " Never heard him talk that way before. Guess he did kill somebody." These words were more quieting to me than medicine. Next morning I was indeed a genuine patient, sick with typhoid fever ; but I felt that I was free.

VI.

            In two months I was well enough to be about. Johnson had also recovered, and was occupying my cell. The physician told me that his case was a sad one; that his reason had been affected by his sickness, and that he constantly imagined he was some one else. My situation was daily becoming more unpleasant, and a constant dread of discovery hastened my resolution to quit San Quentin as soon as possible. The Doctor agreed with me that a change of scene was necessary to complete my convalescence. I gave notice of my resignation to the Warden, who accepted it with kindly expressions of regret. I was paid $360 due on salary, and signed Johnson's name to the receipt. In anticipation of this, I had practiced counterfeiting his signature with passable success, at any rate it did not attract the Clerk's attention.

            Here, indeed, was my first crime. I had obtained money under false pretences and committed forgery. Driving these reflections from my mind, I passed through the outer gate in the wagon, and was driven to the boat along with Johnson's trunk. It seemed an age before the boat started, but at last it backed away from the wharf, and wheeling, headed for San Francisco. When the space between myself and the shore gradually widened, and I saw the wagon start upon its return trip, I felt with an indescribable delight that I was again at liberty. I luxuriated in the sunshine and sea breeze of the most exhilerating journey of my life, and as I neared San Francisco, and recognized its familiar outlines, I was like a man drunk with new wine.

            The difficulties of my position soon developed, as I signed the name H. L. Johnson on the hotel register. The clerk extended his hand, remarking:

            "Back again, old boy? you look pale."

            I shook his hand warmly, and told him of my recent illness. He opened a conversation in a chatty and familiar style which somewhat puzzled me to meet, when the arrival of another traveler gave me an opportunity to retire to my room, where I took the liberty of examining the contents of Johnson's trunk. The first letter which I read bore a San Francisco post-mark, and had been mailed but a short time prior to Johnson's sickness. It read:

            You have not sent me the regular divy. Coin talks and also keeps people from talking. I don't want to squeal, but I must have some money within three days. Send it to the old address. B.

            This I assumed was either a private detective, who knew all about the matter, or a black-mailing witness. "Suppose the writer of this letter should conclude to 'squeal!'"

            As I said these words musingly, there was a knock at the door. I unlocked and opened it, and a man who stood at the threshold bowed blandly.

            "Mr. Johnson, I believe."

1884.]  A Fair Exchange.           505

            "Yes, sir."

            He produced a pair of handcuffs and said quietly:

            "I must trouble you to put your wrists in these."

            "On what charge?" I asked with a sinking heart.

            "Murder."

            "What murder?"

            "The Commercial Street wharf murder. Here are the papers."

            "But one man has already been convicted of that crime!"

            "Quite true! but he turns out to be the wrong man. We have discovered new and important evidence."

            Without further parley, I accompanied the officer to the City Prison, utterly broken down in courage and hope. It seemed useless to longer resist a fate like mine. To break the meshes of the net which I had so cunningly woven about myself seemed impossible.

            One of the next morning's papers contained the following :

A STRANGE CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.

            Yesterday evening detective Ellis arrested Henry L. Johnson at the Palace Hotel, charged with having committed the murder at the foot of Commercial Street Wharf in February, 1873. A man named Marston, who bears a remarkable personal resemblance to Johnson, was convicted of the crime and has since been serving a life sentence in San Quentin. One of the peculiar features of this affair lies in the fact that Johnson has for some time past been an officer at the States Prison, where Marston, the innocent man, was a prisoner. The latter was convicted upon the testimony of half a dozen_ witnesses who were misled by the strong resemblance between the two men. A romantic episode in this peculiar case is the fact that Miss Mary Denton, of Oakland, a sister of the young lady to whom Mr. Marston was engaged prior to his arrest, was directly instrumental in clearing up the mystery. The evidence in the possession of the detectives is so complete and satisfactory that the Governor will pardon Marston immediately.

VII.

            "A lady wishes to see you."

            It was the turnkey who spoke. I could surmise that no one except Mary would call upon me, and my anticipation of the meeting was something intense. My excitement prevented me, for the time being, from remembering that Mary, like the rest of the world, had no means of knowing that I had exchanged personalities with Johnson. There was a rustle of silk in the corridor.

            " This way, Madam," said the turnkey, swinging his keys toward my cell. "I will call for you in fifteen minutes."

            As the woman entered and removed her veil, I stepped forward, and then drew back astonished.

            It was Helen Denton.

            To her who had deserted me in my first hour of peril I was perfectly indifferent. Why did not Mary, who had kept me buoyed up all these long years with letters of friendship and encouragement, come to me when disaster had again overtaken me? Helen advanced as I retreated, and held out her hands imploringly.

            " Harry," she said, " I have come to show you how a woman can keep the vows of her affection."

            The situation for an instant staggered me. The woman whom I had so nearly married mistaking me for Johnson !

            " Don't shrink from me because you are charged with crime. Don't think for an instant that since I have learned everything my love has abated in the least."

            She placed her hands upon my shoulders and tenderly kissed me on the forehead. The last few months had made me an adept in duplicity, and I decided at once to keep up the illusion. Circumstances seemed determined to force me into strange positions, and these positions I had become accustomed to accept.

            " Miss Denton, I am ready to release you from everything. You may with propriety go back to your old love, Mr. Marston. His character is free from stain, and mine is not. It seems to me a duty which, under the circumstances, you owe him."

            " It is too late to take any backward steps," as if considering the force of every word. "I was guided by the advice of older persons, and when the test came I realized that my affection had been but a passing fancy.

506 A Fair Exchange. [May,

When I met you, you seemed so like him as I first knew him in the early days of our courtship, that I unconsciously loved you as I once imagined I loved him. I care no more for him now than if he had never existed. I will follow you to the prison gate, if need be; but there must be some mistake about all this. I believe you innocent, and will leave no stone unturned to prove it."

            Her excitement had brought a glow to her cheek ; her eyes flashed into mine, and as she stood there erect, superb and womanly, I wondered for an instant if it were not worth the trial to win her back again ; but I called to mind how she had turned from me when I was arrested, her cold and formal letter of dismissal, and how she had never troubled herself to inquire into my guilt or innocence. In my prison cell I had cursed and despised her, when contrasting her conduct with her sister's. I had it in my power to mete out a fearful revenge, but could not bring myself to strike the blow.

            "It is useless, Helen, " I said finally, " to talk of this now. I have no prospects worth living for, and now every recollection of me will be a weight upon your mind."

            " No, no. Don't say that." She fell at my feet, clasping both my hands in hers, while the tears streamed down her cheeks.

            I felt like a vessel being slowly torn from her moorings by the force of an overwhelming tempest.

            " I will lay my life at your feet, and show by daily and hourly devotion how much love I hold in my heart for you."

            I looked down upon the pleading face, so full of agony and wet with tears. I had intended to crush her by bluntly telling her that I had ceased to love her; but now the shadow of my life seemed turned back upon the dial -- back to the time we had strolled together in the woods as lovers, and the night I had placed the betrothal ring upon her finger. Should I take her in my arms, or cast her from me ? Was I in a position to do either? There was a moment or two of uncertain suspense, when we both heard the turnkey's step and the jingle of his keys. Rising quickly, she kissed me passionately upon the mouth, and as the door swung open glided past the turnkey and disappeared.

VIII.

            After recovering from the surprise of this strange meeting, and after casting off the spell which Helen's presence had thrown about me, I began to devise some means to reëstablish my identity. The more I studied the matter, the more absolutely perplexing it became. I soon reached the conclusion that I had done my work in the sick ward too well. In case Johnson should accept the identity which I had forced upon him, and play the cards which my act had placed in his hands, I was a lost man. It seemed that I must give up the fight, and there was no escape from the fate with which this unfortunate resemblance to a murderer had cursed me. While in this state of mental distress and almost despair, the turnkey announced another visitor.

            The man who entered paused while the key was turned, and then seating himself in a chair looked me for several seconds squarely in the face.

            "You don't know me?" he said sneeringly.

            There was no mistaking the voice, and I replied with an oath, "You are Henry Johnson."

            He unbuttoned his heavy coat, pulled a false beard from his face, and chuckled as he said:

            "I supposed my name was George Marston -- at least, that is what everybody calls me now. How do you like being Mr. Johnson, eh ? "

            He thrust his hands into his pockets, grinned a while, and finding I made no answer, continued:

            "You did the right thing for me when I was sick, Harry, and I came to thank you for it."

            The coolness of the fellow in addressing me by his name again left me speechless.

            "I suppose I must marry Mary Denton now, in order to carry out my part of the programme," was his next observation. "I

1884.] A Fair Exchange. 507

shall call upon her to-night, and see if my face will not be as welcome as yours."

            "Since our faces are so much alike," I retorted, my rage at last finding an utterance, "I will adopt some means of changing the expression of yours."

            As I spoke I planted a blow between his eyes, with vengeance in my arm and the thought of all my wrongs behind the blow. As he reeled backward my hand reached his throat, and I flung him heavily to the floor. My first impulse was to wipe out every vestige of that face by repeated blows, when I discovered that the contact of his head with the iron floor had knocked him senseless. He lay stretched upon the floor, and my opportunity had come again.

            Necessity and despair forced me to act quickly. It was but a moment's work to remove his overcoat and dress coat. I then lifted the body from the floor and laid it upon the cot. My own coat I threw over the foot of the bed; by this time the turnkey was shuffling along the hall. I was inside Johnson's coat and overcoat in a second, and had adjusted his false beard and put on his hat. As I did this I heard the click and rattle of keys in the lock. As the turnkey swung open the door, he apologized for his lateness.

            "I was in no hurry," I replied, with assumed carelessness, "but my friend is pretty badly broken up and is trying to take a little rest."

            "Yes, it breaks up a good many of 'em," he replied, as he glanced at the prostrate figure and shut the door.

            Attired as I was, I had no difficulty in passing to the outer air unchallenged. On reaching the street my first act was to purchase a linen duster and straw hat, and while passing through an unfrequented alley I removed the beard and threw it into a pile of rubbish. It was now nearly night, and I was glad to take a room in a lodging-house (I had had enough of hotels), and retire for a long rest of nerves and brain.

            It was late when I woke next morning, and the first sound that greeted my ears was the shrill cry of a newsboy, which caused me to spring from my bed as if an alarm of fire had sounded through the house.

            "Here's yer Morning Call and Chronicle! Suicide in the City Prison ! Call, Chronicle, and Alta, all for ten cents !"

            In five minutes I was dressed and upon the street. The first paper I purchased contained the following:

A MURDERER'S SUICIDE.--H. L. JOHNSON FOUND HANGING IN HIS CELL.

            H. L. Johnson, the man arrested for a murder committed some years ago at the foot of Commercial Street wharf, and for which an innocent man was sentenced to San Quentin for life, was found hanging in his cell last evening, dead. He had twisted a silk handkerchief about his neck. He must have died in great agony, as his swollen forehead and a bruise upon the head, occasioned by striking it against the iron wall of the cell, showed that he had experienced a protracted death struggle. Doubtless, the desperate character of his situation, or perhaps the remorse occasioned by having caused an innocent man to suffer, was so intense, that death by his own hand was his only release. A strange part of this peculiar case is, that Johnson was for some time an officer in the prison where Marston, the innocent man, was incarcerated.

            The pleasure of a new existence thrilled me as I read the welcome intelligence, and I was immediately seized with a desire to purchase all of the morning papers, as fast as the nimble news-boys offered them for sale.

            The accounts were all in the same strain, and I felt assured that the only man who had ever known my secret, or had stood between me and liberty, was dead. I felt no remorse that I was instrumental in causing him to hang himself. There was too much retributive justice in the case to occasion any regrets on my part.

            For a moment I was tempted to go to the City Hall and look at the remains, but smothered the impulse and took the next boat to Oakland in search of Mary Denton. I found the family at their old residence, and was warmly welcomed by Mary and her father. Helen was indisposed and in bed, but none of the family seemed to know that the suicide of Johnson had any connection with her illness. In fact, I afterwards learned that they did not even know of her ac-

508 A Fair Exchange. [May,

 quaintance with Johnson, and their correspendence had been carried on clandestinely.

            I had a long talk with Mary in the evening, and learned of her indefatigable exertions to clear my character, in spite of the fact that for a long time she had neither assistance nor encouragement from anybody. She had employed a detective to work up the case on the theory which she had held from the first—that it was purely a case of mistaken identity.

            Finally, a man known as " Bob "— evidently the writer of the letter signed " B," asking Johnson for money—called upon Mary, and offered to place her in possession of all the facts for a sum of money, which was immediately forthcoming. A full investigation by the detective fully corroborated " Bob's " statements.

            Johnson had killed his man from motives of revenge, having had business troubles with him in Portland, Oregon, and the name of the murdered man was Morrison.

            As soon as the tide of my fortune turned, the current went with a rush. A few days before my first arrest I had purchased some Comstock mining stocks, which during my sojourn in San Quentin had so appreciated in value that I found upward of sixty thousand dollars awaiting my order at the broker's firm of Crowley & Goodman, they having been honest enough to keep it intact.

            So we fixed the day for the wedding, and Mary, who had always looked so plain to me a few years before, now seemed the loveliest of brides.

            Just before the ceremony, Helen, who had not left her bed since the day of Johnson's suicide, sent for both of us ; and the meeting which I had instinctively shrunk from was now no longer to be avoided.

            As we entered she lay propped up on the pillows, pale and beautiful, and did not even lift her eyes as Mary and I approached her. Of all the strange scenes I had passed through, this seemed the most painful and embarrassing. She joined our hands with her thin fingers.

            "Mr. Marston, I must ask your forgiveness for my lack of faith in you. I have been sorely punished for it. Take Mary, with a sister's blessing—such as it is. She is a true and noble woman, which I am not, and more deserving of you than I ever could have been."

            Releasing our hands she looked up for the first time. As our eyes met she sent a searching glance into mine, and with a stifled, bitter cry she sank back, with the name of "Harry" upon her lips.

            The family hastened to her with restoratives, and as quiet was absolutely enjoined by the physician, we withdrew, and did not deem it best to again visit her before starting on our wedding journey.

            The ceremony was quietly performed in the presence of the family, and we took the overland train for the East, to spend our honeymoon in New York, Mary's aunt throwing one of her immense shoes after us for luck.

            Helen, after our departure, slowly recovered her health, and soon doubtless believed that she had not seen Johnson after all, when I last stood by her bedside. She finally married a wealthy sea-captain, and at the present writing is sailing somewhere in the tropics. Mary has proved the wifeliest of wives, and as I contemplate my little household, of which she is the guiding spirit, I look upon my short stay in San Quentin with more satisfaction than regret.

Sam Davis.