THE EXECUTION.
While these details were being carried out, the Sheriff was at Fischer’s cell, and the same programme of preparation was gone through with. The Anarchist was manacled, pinioned and shrouded, and he gazed upon each operation with curious interest, but with no sign of perturbation or weakness. Now and then he faintly smiled, and he seemed more concerned about the trepidation of the deputies than about his own situation.
Meantime the death warrant had been read to Engel, who was soon arrayed in the habiliments of death. He stood it all unflinchingly, and seemed even less concerned than his comrades. There was also an entire absence of affected indifference.
Parsons was the last to step out of his cell, and, as he stood receiving the ghastly paraphernalia, he endeavored to display no sign of fear. He bore up well, although he evidently wrestled with his inner feelings.
The solemn march to the scaffold began with the Sheriff in the lead. In the east corner of the north corridor stood the scaffold. Below and before it were benches for the two hundred spectators. The death procession moved slowly and with measured tread. As it neared the corner the footfalls became distinctly audible to those assembled. When the shuffling of feet on the iron stairway leading to the first gallery, which was on a level with the gallows, was heard, the buzz of conversation ceased, and every eye was centered on the spot whence the Anarchists would be first seen. It was only a moment, and then Spies, Fischer, Engel and Parsons, one after the other, came into view, each with a deputy by his side. Having reached their respective places on the trap, they faced the spectators. Spies, the moment he caught sight of the audience, gave it a contemptuous look, and thereafter his eyes seemed centered on some invisible object down the corridor above the heads of the spectators. Fischer merely looked down for a moment on the uncovered heads below, and then his eyes wandered in various directions. Engel seemed the most unconcerned of all, and swept the audience with a cool glance as though it might have been composed of friends. Parsons was superbly stiff, and his gaze, after a snap at those below, firmly set itself in the direction of the cell tiers.
As soon as those on the platform had taken the positions assigned, the lower limbs of the four Anarchists were pinioned. This was done very quickly. The nooses dangling overhead were then lifted from their hooks, and Spies was the first to have the rope placed around his neck. The noose had been slipped a little too tight, and, noticing the uneasiness it gave him, the deputy instantly loosened it a trifle. Spies gave a faint smile in acknowledgment of the kindness and again seemed at ease. Not a tremor was visible during the adjustment of the rope. Another deputy next placed the rope around the neck of Fischer, who, to facilitate its proper adjustment, bent his tall form slightly and received it with head inclined until the knot rested in its proper place under the left ear. Engel received the noose as if it had been a decoration about to be placed upon his shoulders by friendly hands, and several times he turned his head around to exchange a word or two with the deputy, accompanying his whispered utterances with a smile. Parsons stood unmoved when his turn came, and appeared entirely indifferent to the operation. Loose-fitting white caps were now produced, and, as these came in sight, Fischer and Engel turned their heads slightly to the left and spoke a second to their respective deputies. Spies first, Fischer next, then Engel, and Parsons last, was the order in which the caps were adjusted, and the heads had no sooner been enveloped, shutting out forever the light of day, than all knew that the fatal moment had arrived. During all the preliminary preparations not a relaxation of nerve or an expression of anguish or despair had been observed. Now the tension of silence was painful. But suddenly there broke from the lips of Spies an exclamation that startled the auditors as if by a shock.
“You may strangle this voice,” said he, in clear but subdued tones, “but my silence will be more terrible than speech.”