"First of all," he dictated, in his careful old voice, "it must be
remembered that I was not certain that the boy had committed the crime.
I believed, and I still believe, that Lucas was shot by Clifton Hines,
probably through an open window. There were no powder marks on the body.
I believed, too, and still believe, that Hines had fled after the crime,
either to Hattie Thorwald's house or to the mountains. In one case he
had escaped and could not be brought to justice, and in the other he was
dead, and beyond conviction.
"But there is another element which I urge, not in defense but in
explanation. The boy Judson Clark was a new slate to write on. He had
never had a chance. He had had too much money, too much liberty, too
little responsibility. His errors had been wiped away by the loss of his
memory, and he had, I felt, a chance for a new and useful life.
"I did not come to my decision quickly. It was a long fight for his
life, for he had contracted pneumonia, and he had the drinker's heart.
But in the long days of his convalescence while Maggie worked in
the lean-to, I had time to see what might be done. If in making an
experiment with a man's soul I usurped the authority of my Lord and
Master, I am sorry. But he knows that I did it for the best.
"I deliberately built up for Judson Clark a new identity. He was my
nephew, my brother Henry's son. He had the traditions of an honorable
family to carry on, and those traditions were honor, integrity,
clean living and work. I did not stress love, for that I felt must be
experienced, not talked about. But love was to be the foundation on
which I built. The boy had had no love in his life.
"It has worked out. I may not live to see it at its fullest, but I defy
the world to produce today a finer or more honorable gentleman, a more
useful member of the community. And it will last. The time may come when
Judson Clark will again be Judson Clark. I have expected it for many
years. But he will never again be the Judson Clark of ten years ago.
He may even will to return to the old reckless ways, but as I lie here,
perhaps never to see him, I say this: he cannot go back. His character
and habits of thought are established.
"To convict Judson Clark of the murder of Howard Lucas is to convict
a probably or at least possibly innocent man. To convict Richard
Livingstone of that crime is to convict a different man, innocent of the
crime, innocent of its memory, innocent of any single impulse to lift
his hand against a law of God or the state."