JUSTICE.

HOW A TRAITOR DIED.

(By EDGAR WALLACE, in the London

"Daily Mail.")

JOHANNESBURG, Nov. 20, 1901

Familiar as we are with death thafc conies sudden and horrid, callous as we have grown to the inevitable casualty, to the shrunken mess, the vacant seat, to the comrade who has passed and whose requiem is a "poor eld boy" and a. half-ashamed sigh,; there is always something . extraordinary in the prearranged casualty, the death that is as an engagement made threo weeks ahead.

Men inured to scenes of carnage, hardened in warfare and seasoned to death — I have seen them shudder at a little calm ond^bloodless sentencing. It is not tho, value of the life to be spilt, for in this/ the Land of Little White Crosses, where' graves are more frequent than milestones, what is the value of a life, be it prince's or private's? It is not pity, for what pity can there be for a man who trafficks in treason, and is a chapman selling men cheaply? It is perhaps the brokery of it all : the fair trading of life for life ; the bargaining of plea against accusation ; the final adjustment by the keen-witted arbitrator, and the businesslike arrangements for a settling day. Ifc is the knowledge of the settling day, that there will be no carrying of accounts, but a final settling for once and for all. No whirl and clamour and delirium of baittle. No joy of give and take, with all the chances of immunity and little reck of death — only the cold, helpless, traipped doing .-"to death, with a grave dug bef oreband and the hour of the funeral arranged in advanoe.

I have told you before of a military execution ; -from time to time I yiave tried to paint war in its true colours— which are ■ black and red and grey. Blaick for the sorrow and tho gloom and the suffering; red, blood-red for the quick, clean death ; and grey for tho monotony and dreariness of it all. HORRID WAR. You ought to know what war is, for ifc is a good thing to avoid; yon should see that side which the war artist is blind, to and the decent photographer wisely passes by. You can do this in cold print, since the writer may skip sickening details which the camera places on record — and it is the detail that counts. If there is _ cheerful aspect to warfare, it is but one spoke in the whole wheel, and all the resfc are horrors. War!, what does ib signify to you? I will tell you whait it signifies to me.

I once met a dear old friend of mine — he was not old as years go — and he asked me to breakfast with him. We were trekI king at the time, and he had joined the column during the night, having brought in a convoy. We talked of old times and old friends, and he talked about his wife and apriflgised! for a baby— he was ridiculously young. The column moved off and we rode together for a distance, and he told me a funny .tory about it, brigade- ! major, which I jotted down as I rede for 1 future reference. - He did nofc finish the story, for he was called away to take his troop on ahead to reconnoitre the country. Tho Boers were holding a position a few miles ahead, the usual sort of thing; a ridge, a farmhouse, and) a donga, and it took two hours' fighting, and hard fighting, to turn them out. After the fight was over I went round with the ambulances to collect the woundedr The first man I saw was H .my poor friend, a bullet through his heart, a smile on his lips, and eyes that stared blankly afc the hot blue sky And the word "war" always recalls that picture, and- the" story of the brigade-major that was never finis'hed. And so now I tell you of another deatn, that you may see was as ib is, not as you would wish to sec it. .J THE CHARGE. j Nearly three weeks ago, on November 4, , to be exact, two men were arraigned before a military court at Johannesburg. For some time past the burgher camps had been utilised by a certain class of burgher as convalescent homes for enervated burghers. Pleasant rest camps, wher© captured Uoers mi«ht recover from the iatigues incidental to "campaigning, and where, haying thoroughly recuperated, they might seize favourabtc opportunities for slipping back again to the commandoes. True, they were obliged to take the oath of neutrality if they wished to remain in these camps. If they did not so chose, they were deported. It was in consequence of this practice that " David Garnus Wernich and Hendnck Meyer, residing within the British lines in the burgher -camp afc Johannesburg, in the Transvaal, were charged with, firstly, Higb Treason, in that they, both or one or other of them, and at various dates between the months 'of July and October, lWlJboth moni?hs inclusive), did, at the said burgher camp, incite and persuade by word of mouth certain surrendered burghers residing at the said burner camp -that is to say among others, William Cornelius Mynhardt, Johannes Jurgens Klopper, Hendnck Cornelius Nel and Frederick Emil Metz, to leave the burgher camp and >in theKmg i s .enemies Secondly, breaking the Oath of NeuSi v, in that they both or one or other of them, on the dates and at the place mentioned in the first charge having previously taken the oath of neutrality did incite and r.er»uade bv word of mouth, certain burghers, namelv, the said burghers mentioned in the first charge, to leave the said burlier cam,p knd join tbe Kin .V enemies. Sdly^citing to break the Oath of Neutrality, in that they, both or one or other of them: and on the dates and in the places ment oned in the foregoing c harg es, d^ incite and persuade, by word of nwuft, certain burghers, namely, the said burghers "SS oned in* the ft^^^^J the said burgher camp and ]om the Kings

enemies." . , Stripped of all the legal phraseology, they were charged with holding a pro-Boer mectSiJ The T court found Wernich guilty on all counts, Meyer on charges one and three, and the court 'having closed the pnsonen were led back to the cells. That was three weeks ago, and neither man knew what his sentence was to be.

MERCIFUL SWIFTNESS. Yesterday morning Wernich knew. A raw morning and no sign yet of the dawn. A terrific storm had passed over Johannesbur" the previous night, and the thunder stilf rumbled on the hills around, and the lightning flared fitfully on.the henzon. Here and them a coated policeman his rifle clung at his shoulder, paced the dead streets castin^ an eve upwards for a .stray star glitterin" through a momentary cioud break The streets silent, save for the grumbling thunder roll, every house lifeless, every window dark, and on the outskirts of the town the unquiet signal lamps, blinking and winking from kopje to kopje. Then a clatter of hSfa from the Erection of -the fort and a horseman gallops through the town to tbe charge-office, Johannesburg's central police station. He has a message to deliver a sealed envelope for the chief gaoler Then he wheels his horse, for he has another errand. This time it is a doctor to be roused. Then the horseman rides back to tlie fort, and the iron-shod klip-klap grows fainter and dies away. Once/ mort silence -m the streets of Johannesburg. Inside the charge-office the gaoler has broken the seal, and has proceeded to Wernich's cell. A muffled figure with rifle and fixed bayonet stops on one side to allow the gaoler to pass into the cell, and a man is wakened from his sleep to hear the sentence of the court. "To be shot at suni, -*• rise. The condemned man does not understand ; he is still half asleep. It may b& only a bad dream. Then he realises and bursts into tears. ' To be s'hofc at six, and already it is past three! He- dresses, ?nd the guard outside assemble to march him to the fort, the placo of execution. Dressed afc last. Out into the deserted . street swings the little partf .

Tramp, tramp, shuffle, shuffle ; the prisoner is taking his last walk.

Think of ifc ! This walk through the city of the dead, with never a familiar face cr the glint of pity from human eyes. Only the unpeopled streets and the silent houses and the pale herald of dawn in the eastern sky. What a morning for thoughts ! Little white boats on a sunny sea ; fat kine browsing on a golden ridge. Love and hope and the goodness of living. Then the fort and shut doors behind, and the hours slip round faster than ever they slipped before, and the minister's voice offering spiritual consolation is a meaningless drone. "Life everlasting " This is the life the poor wretch wants; and then he is led outside- and blindfolded, and two gaolers lead him bv the arm to a chair. He cannot see what" is happening ; he only knows that he will be killed very quickly and very soon. If his eyes were nn--bandaged he would gee that even as he is placed against the chair, and while yet the warders are at his elbows, ten men facing him have raised their rifles to .he present. Then, unassisted, he^its, and the warders spring clear.

His body does not touch the seat before the rifle's crash.