“The name, sir?”
As he wrote it down I could hear a hearty laugh, and so did he.
“Do not laugh, sir. You are not proved innocent.”
“I beg your pardon. I did not laugh.”
“Who did, then?”
“I am not able to say.”
“Officer, take him back. I feel that I must see if this is a letter written by some crank, or was it written as a real confession. It is a mystery. I must say that I think this man is innocent, and I propose to look into this affair thoroughly at once. If he is innocent, he must be released. If not, he must work. I shall write to the authorities at the place where this letter was posted and have them make an investigation. I am of the opinion that this man is not guilty. As I sit here I know that I am hearing the words: ‘My son is innocent and you must release him from this prison.’ Yet I know that the one whose voice I hear is invisible.”
A week passed. There had been no answer from the ones who had been written to in regard to the prisoner. The superintendent grew weary of waiting. He felt that there should have been some reply. He had sent a copy of the anonymous letter of confession.
A guard appeared, and said: “You have a very sick man in 78. I have not been able to arouse him, and I have been working over him for some time.”
Telling the story afterward, the superintendent said: