“I’m sorry they don’t treat you well, Mr. Falkner. Is there anything I can do for you—tobacco or anything like that?”
He gave her a sulky sidewise look, but did not answer.
“We’re all hoping you’ll get out soon,” she went on bravely. “They are talking of getting up a petition for all of you.”
She stuck again. His whole attitude was unfriendly and hostile.
“I—I’ve come to ask another favour of you. Perhaps you don’t know that I have a little baby now. I’m trying to get Rowan out on parole, but the governor won’t do anything unless we bring evidence to show that he did not kill Mr. Gilroy.”
He clung still to his obstinate silence. His eyes were watching her now steadily. It came to her that her suffering pleased him.
“So I’ve come to you, Mr. Falkner. You are the only man that can help me. If you’ll make a statement that you shot Mr. Gilroy the governor will give me back my husband. I’m asking it for the sake of my little baby.”
A pulse beat fast in her throat. A tremor passed through her body. The eyes begged him to be merciful.
He laughed, and the sound of his laughter was harsh and cruel.
“I’d see the whole outfit of you rot first.”