He had asked the warden
as a special favour to do his duty without delay at the appointed
time.
Gordon was ready, dressed with his old fastidious distinction to
the last detail of his toilet. He had spent the entire night before
writing to Ruth the last chapter in a secret diary he had kept and
given to the warden for her.
The warden read the death warrant with halting lips. He had been
strangely drawn to this tall young giant with his premature gray
hairs. Gordon's words of lyric fire to him of the mysteries of life
and death had thrown a spell over his imagination. He was going to
kill him now with the horrible feeling that he was his own brother.
"Come, my friend," Gordon said to him, cheerfully, "you promised
me there should be no delay. I've a child's eagerness now to push
the black curtains aside and see what lies beyond. I've often
dreamed and wondered. In a few minutes I shall know. I hear it
calling me, that unknown world of silence, beauty and mystery. Let
us make haste."
But the feet of the jailer were of lead. He would stop and hold
his lower lip tightly under his teeth, as though in pain.
At last they were in the dim chamber that is the vestibule of
death.
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