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news late at night, and Tamara could see how pleased he was. Another triumph! He and she slept late, and in mid-morning left the dingy city and the flowing fog behind them, and went down to Belmont.
During the strangely quiet two weeljs which intervened before Mayne Mallory's second trial, Tarn and George and Mrs. Hutton between them reached a difficult decision — to send little Mary, with Mrs. Hutton, to Europe. On the surface, the only reason for going was to put Mary in a good art school, where she could develop the talent for painting she was already showing. Underneath, and only hinted at, there was another reason — to take Mary and Mrs. Hutton away from the scene of Mallory's trial, for safety's sake in case Mullins or Mallory himself might dig up some connection between them and Tam.
THEY left, going by way of the Panama Canal, a few days before the trial began, leaving Tam in that mood of exhaustion and flatness and heartaches that only partings give. The campaign for many municipal offices, including that of district attorney, ran its course parallel to that of the second Mallory trial. George made speeches, raced about the city in a big car, was cheered at large meetings. Mayne shuffled in and out of the familiar shabby court room, sat dully staring at the floor, or raised heavy eyes to study the animated, confidenl face of his old enemy, Mullins. Mayne had dismissed George with dramatic dignity, to George's and Tarn's enormous relief, and his lawyer this time was the famous old criminal defense star, Willoughby.
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Mullins had found fresh evidence. He produced witnesses to the fact that Mayne when he had been drinking was a man given to violent displays of passion; he had once kicked a polo pony almost to death; he had injured a bellboy once by knocking him down.
"They've got him this time," George said.
Quite suddenly, without the threatened recount and despite the dire predictions of Mullins, George was elected district attorney.
"Well, that's over," George said on election night, as they walked home after spending the evening at old Judge Moore's house, where they had heard the returns.
"The only thing now is the verdict," Tam said. "When that's settled one way or the other — then I'll feel that I can start making a home for you!"
"You started a long time ago," George told her. "But about the verdict. If it goes against him he'll not bother us long. But if they find him innocent, or the judge gives him life, then we may have Mayne to deal with again."
Three days later George returned home at midmorning.
"Guilty?" she whispered when she saw him.
"They were out all night," he said. "They came back at ten-twenty this morning. Guilty, and no plea for clemency or anything else. Judge Oppcnheim will sentence him Monday. They say he's to die in the week of December 10th."
Tam sat silent, stricken. She had expected it, but it was none the less terrible, none the less a thunderbolt
when it came.
"They take him to San Quentin tomorrow. Tam, he wants to see you before he goes."
The last color drained from her face. Her lips moved without making a sound.
"I know," George said. "But he has asked for you. Willoughby came to the office and told me an hour ago. He doesn't know anything. He just said that Mallory had always admired my wife and had an old friendship with her, and he would like very much to see her."
"George, I could not! I — I would faint, I think. I could not." But before George could speak, Tamara's mood had changed, and she added in a whisper of infinite distress, "He is a dying man. Perhaps he never meant to be what he is, perhaps it isn't all his fault. If it made him feel happier . . ."
There was a long silence.
"Tam, it seems the turn of the screw," George said. "I know how you dread it. But it'd be tonight, only for a few minutes."
HER face was ashen and her blue eyes looked black.
"Of course," she said quickly. "Of course I'll go!"
Tam kept close to George as they crossed a wide marble-flagged entrance hall with a domed roof, entered large doors and walked down strange hallways scented with carbolic acid, past guards and warders, to a large room where there were four or five newspapermen, as many cameramen, several officers — and Mayne. Mayne saw them at once and got up from his chair.
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