Sanford is innocent. He could not have done it. It is not in him to do such a thing. I am only a woman, but about some things I know more than all the lawyers and scientists, and I KNOW that he is innocent.
I cannot write all. My heart is too full. Cannot you come and advise me? Even if you cannot take up the case to which I have devoted my life, tell me what to do. I am enclosing a check for expenses, all I can spare at present.
Sincerely yours,
NELLA GODWIN.
“Are you going?” I asked, watching Kennedy as he tapped the check thoughtfully on the desk.
“I can hardly resist an appeal like that,” he replied, absently replacing the check in the envelope with the letter.
XXIII
THE DEATH HOUSE
In the early forenoon, we were on our way by train “up the river” to Sing Sing, where, at the station, a line of old-fashioned cabs and red-faced cabbies greeted us, for the town itself is hilly.
The house to which we had been directed was on the hill, and from its windows one could look down on the barracks-like pile of stone with the evil little black-barred slits of windows, below and perhaps a quarter of a mile away.