As well order a hungry tiger to desist
from springing at his prey, to sheathe his outstretched claws and
suffer himself to be bound, as to have met Terry with anything less
than the force to which he was himself appealing. Every man who knows
anything of the mode of life and of quarrelling and fighting among the
men of Terry's class knows full well that when they strike a blow they
mean to follow it up to the death, and they mean to take no chances.
The only way to prevent the execution of Terry's revengeful and openly
avowed purpose was by killing him on the spot. Only a lunatic or
an imbecile or an accomplice would have pursued any other course
in Neagle's place than the one he pursued, always supposing he had
Neagle's nerve and cool self-possession to guide him in such a crisis.
While this tragedy was being enacted Mrs. Terry was absent, having
returned to the car for the satchel containing her pistol. Before she
returned, the shot had been fired that defeated the conspiracy between
her and her husband against the life of a judge for the performance of
his official duties. She returned to the hotel with her satchel in
her hand just as her husband met his death. The manager of the hotel
stopped her at the door she was entering, and seized her satchel.
She did not relinquish it, but both struggled for its possession. A
witness testified that she screamed out while so struggling: "Let me
get at it; I will fix him.
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