midnight
MacNutt shut off the current , and kicked the charred door-sheathing , already fading from incandescence into ashen ruin , with his foot . The smell of burning leather filled the room , and he laughed a little , turning on the woman a face crowned with a look of Belial-like triumph , with dark and sunken circles about the vindictive , deep-set eyes . Once , in an evening paper , she had pored over the picture of an electrocution at Sing Sing , a haunting and horrible scene , with the dangling wires reaching down to the prisoner , strapped and bound in his chair , the applied sponges at the base of the spine , the buckled thongs about the helpless ankles , the grim and waiting gaol officials , the boyish-looking reporters , with watches in their hands , the bald and ugly chamber , and in the background the dim figure of Retributive Justice , with uplifted arm , where an implacable finger was about to touch the fatal button . Time and time again that vision had brought terror to her midnight dreams , and had left her weak and panting , catching at her startled husband with feverish and passionate hands and holding him and drawing him close to her , as though that momentary guardianship could protect him from some far and undefined danger . `` Oh , Mack , '' she burst out hysterically , over-wrought by the scene before her , `` for the love of God , do n't make him die this way ! Give him a fighting chance ! Give him a show !