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 "The wires are down, sir. I can't get the warden."

The Governor snatched his watch from his pocket.

"There is no train for two hours. Order me a special!"

The despatcher flashed his command for a clear track as far as the wires would work, and within fifteen minutes the great engine with its single coach dashed across the bridge and plunged down the grade toward Sing Sing, roaring, hissing, screaming its warnings above the splash and howl of the storm.

The Governor sat silent with his head resting on his hand, shading his eyes.

Ruth, still and pale, gazed out the car window, and, shivering, closed her eyes now and then over the vision of a cold dead face she feared to see at the journey's end.

They had made fifty miles in fifty minutes, and not a word had been spoken.

The Governor looked at his watch and leaned over:

"Cheer up, Ruth. We are making a mile a minute through the storm, over slippery rails. We will make it in time."

Suddenly the emergency brakes came down with a crash, every wheel was locked, and the train slid heavily on the track, hissing, grinding, swaying, the steel rails blazing with sparks.

The Governor sprang from the car.

"We're blocked by a wreck, sir," the conductor