The cold-mannered Lagmann paused a moment, wiped his short-sighted eyes with his red print handkerchief, and then said in a husky voice, "This is very noble of you. I'll go at once for the document."
He had only just gone from the room when Greeba returned to it. She had tried too long to conquer her agitation and could not, and now with wide eyes and a look of fear in them she hastened back to her husband the moment the Lagmann had left him.
"Michael," she cried, "what has the Lagmann gone for?"
"For a form of pardon," he answered.
"Pardon for that man?" she asked.
"Even so," he said, "and I have promised to sign it."
"Oh, Michael, my love—my dear, kind Michael!" she cried, in a pitiful voice of entreaty, "don't do it, don't I pray of you—don't bring that man back."
"Why, Greeba, w
