Release by Va Nyle Evans THE two men who thumbed through the newspaper that morning didn't read the European war news; rather, they turned to a brief story on the inner pages telling of the release of a petty gangster from State Prison. "Mike Manning Gets Freedom After Seven-Year Jail Term," they read. The shorter of the two men, called Beck, stared at the item in the paper. "There it is, Dave," he said. "They're letting the bastard out today." Dave read the last paragraph of the article aloud: Getting out of jail is all I've thought of the past seven years," said Manning when interviewed yesterday at the prison. "As soon as I get out tomorrow I'm going straight to my wife.'" During Manning's term, Mrs. Manning has maintained a modest apartment on Fourteenth Street." Dave glanced up from the paper. "Beck," he said, "We have an appointment." On the morning of his release from prison, Mike Manning didn't need to be awakened by the priscn bell. He had hardly been able to sleep the night before, for his mind was crowded with thoughts of freedom. For seven years he had looked forward to this day. It had been his only beacon in the darkness of his prison cell. Only a few more hours now, and then they would let him out, free to go anywhere he chose. Of course he was going straight to his wife; he had been jubilant when he talked about her to those newspaper fellows yesterday. Martha had been faithful to him while he had served time; those kids that followed her around probably thought they were just orphans. Mike was whistling as a friendly guard passed his cell. "So you're leaving us today, are you?" he called. "You bet," Mike answered, "and glad to get out!" The hope of release had been the only thing that had sustained Mike in jail. Rather than serve a life sentence he would have killed himself, even if it had meant holding his breath until he died of strangulation. But now he was happy as he sat looking through the bars and glass to the freshness in the air that would soon be his. Things beyond the prison wall had a freshness and beauty that could never be known inside. Soon all things beyond that wall would be his again trees and grass and streams, but more than anything else, Martha. To take her in his arms again, to kiss her, to feel the warmth of her body in bed. All to be his, now that release from prison was his! Mike was ready to go long before the warden sent for him. When the guard came and opened his cell door, Mike bounded out and into the warden's office. He was far too eager for his new life to catch the details of the warden's talk to him; he merely guessed that it was the usual plea to go straight and stay away from jails. For now he was knowing release! Release from prison! Release! Release! And then while his head was swimming in happy circles, Mike felt the warden shake his hand, and knew that he was being led through the prison doors into freedom. Then he stood on the steps beyond, taking in great gulps of fresh free air, and knowing the sweetness of release. It had been seven years ago that Mike Manning had entered into that same prison. He had been lucky, though; he got thirteen years cut off his sentence by cooperating with the police. He and Fred Nicholson had been on trial together. Their crime was murder, committed during attempted burglary. They were picked up by a police car before they could escape from the scene of their crime. He had met Fred Nicholson, who was already well-known in criminal circles. Fred was impressed with the ambitious Mike, and so accepted his services on this one job. When they were picked up, it was only natural that the police would be more concerned with Fred. Mike was afraid of jail; afraid of the dark dirty cells; afraid of the long dark hallway that led to the gaping doors of the execution chamber. So Mike turned state's evidence, and the police were ready to listen. Fred went to the chair, and Mike got off with a jail sentence. But Fred had two friends in crime, a short stolid man named Beck and another called Dave. They remembered that Fred had died in the chair. They remembered the man who had squealed. During the next seven years they carried on petty criminal work together; but they also waited, and did not forget. After his release from Prison, Mike turned his back on the jail and with long eager strides made his way toward Fourteenth Street. It was in the southwestern part of the city, a section where dirty children swiped fruit and evaded the cop that chased them by scampering through innumerable alleyways. It was along one of these alleyways that Mike Manning now progressed, still under the spell of his new freedom. He whistled as he hurried along. He broke into a quick walk, happiness lighting his face. He imagined how Martha's face would look when he walked in through the door, for he had withheld from her the knowledge of the time he would come. The sights and sounds of the day felt good to him. He could see washings flapping in the breeze, a breeze that also brought to him the shouts of children at play, the voice of one woman calling to another, the cry of a baby. Then Mike heard the startled yelp of a dog and the clatter of a tin can being dragged across a street. He smiled. He used to torment dogs, too. Mike swung into a side street, a narrow deserted alley, a short cut that would soon put him at his very door. His thoughts raced ahead again. Home home and Martha! Home and Martha and freedom! "Hurry, Mike, hurry!" he told himself. He slipped around a corner and came face to face with two stolid men who stood in the middle of the deserted alley blocking his path. Both men held grim blue steel in their hands. Mike recognized Dave and Beck immediately, though he would rather not have done. Breathlessly yet hardly moving his lips Beck said, "You sent Fred Nicholson to the chair by talking, Mike. We came to see you about that. It would take some fast talking now to explain it." Before Mike could answer, he heard two shots and felt the agony of two lead slugs ploughing into his body and lodging in his heart. He swayed unsteadily, his knees buckled, and his writhing body slipped to the dust. Mike Manning had been given another release, this time from life. page EIGHTEEN