What was I to do? I had
to determine whether I would let an innocent man be hanged for my
crime, or go to the sheriff and say, 'release the prisoner--I am the
murderer.' That was rather more than I was ready for, and I hit on a
means which might serve. The knife was important evidence--the _most_
important--and I was in the clerk's office one day, hanging round and
listening, when I saw the sheriff put the knife in a drawer, to have it
ready near court on the day of trial. Well, that night I broke into the
court-house--stole the knife--and waited to see what would occur on the
trial.
"As the day drew near I felt like a real murderer, and had the prisoner
all the time before my eyes, hanging on a gallows. I drank harder than
ever, but I could not get that picture out of my mind. I saw worse
pictures than before. So I determined what to do. I sat down, wrote a
full confession of the murder, which I signed; and a friend of mine
carried this to the prisoner's wife. I had put on it 'In haste, this
will save Mr. Davenant's life'--and his wife carried it, at full speed,
with her own hands to the court-house, where she arrived just as the
jury had retired.
"The prisoner opened and read it. When he had finished it, he folded it
up and put it in his pocket. As he did so, the jury came in with a
verdict of 'Not guilty'--and he went out of the court-room accompanied
by a crowd of friends.
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