"Your Excellency, if you carry out that sentence you will be committing a crime—a monstrous judicial crime."
The Governor returned the paper to his desk, and then rose and said, with a ring of sarcasm in his voice,
"So I am the criminal, am I? Well, I am responsible for public security in this island, and as long as I am here I am going to see that it is preserved. Offences of this kind have been too frequent of late and they can only be put down by law. The prisoner in the present case has been justly tried and rightly condemned, and it shall be my business to see that she pays the penalty of her crime."
Stowell's pale face had become scarlet, his lower lip was trembling. Outside the sea was sparkling in the sunlight; a band was playing far off on the promenade.
"Your Excellency," said Stowell, quivering all over, "it will be a life-long grief to me to resist your authority, but I must tell you at once that if you order that girl's execution it shall never be carried out."
"What do you say?"
"I say it shall never be carried out."
"Why not?"
"Because I shall prevent it."
The Governor rose. His face was red, his throat had swelled; his lips were compressed.