“While I was in the death house,” went on the man, as though he had not heard the question, but answering it, nevertheless, “some women got interested in me, and they engaged one of the best criminal lawyers in New York State to take up my case, and he finally had the sentence commuted to life imprisonment.
“To go back,” he went on, “I was a printer by trade, and when my father died he left me enough money to buy a little printing plant that would have made me independently rich. It was in one of the biggest towns in the western part of New York State, and I was making money.
“I had a fine saddle horse, and in summer I used to ride out about twenty miles to a cottage that my father bought before he died. It was in a very lonely place, with nothing about it but woods.
“About three miles away from the cottage was the summer home of some people from New York City, and five miles away the Sheriff lived. My habit was to ride out to the house, sleep there all night on a cot bed, and ride back to town in the morning about sunrise.
“I used to meet a girl on horseback sometimes when riding in the early mornings, and she would ride along with me to a branch road, where she would turn and leave me.
“I met her every morning that was fine for about three months, and at times she would chat and laugh pleasantly, but she never allowed me to become very well acquainted with her. I told her all about myself, but when I would ask her her name and something about herself, she would frown and turn the conversation.
“Finally I found myself in love with her, and one morning I told her so. Then she looked very serious, and said she was sorry, but she loved another man, and that her love for the man had brought nothing but trouble into her life. When we came to the cross-roads she reached out her hand to me and said, ‘Goodbye.’
“I felt something like a shot in my side, right under my heart, as I turned away from her, and the touch of her hand thrilled me, so I stopped the horse and looked after her.
“She had a peculiar, mysterious face that appealed strangely to me that morning, and although I felt hurt and resentful, I galloped after her, overtook her, and said: ‘Girl, if you ever need a friend, call on me,’ and I handed her a card, which had my town address on it. The only answer she made was to rein in her horse and look searchingly into my face.
“I could see that something was moving her strangely, and I said: ‘What is the matter? I feel that you are in some trouble. What can I do to help you now?’