At last the District Attorney himself, accompanied by Mr. Nott, who later prosecuted Ammon, made a special trip to Sing Sing to see what could be done.  They found Miller lying upon his prison pallet, his harsh cough and blazing eyes speaking only too patently of his condition.  At first Mr. Nott tried to engage him in conversation while the District Attorney occupied himself with other business in another part of the ward, but it was easily apparent that Miller would say nothing.  The District Attorney then approached the bed where Miller was lying and inquired if it were true that he declined to say anything which might tend to incriminate Ammon.  After some hesitation Miller replied that, even if he should testify against his old accomplice, there was nothing to show that he would be pardoned, and that he would not talk unless he had actually in his hands some paper or writing which would guarantee that if he did so he would be set free.

The spectacle of a convicted felon haggling with an officer of the law over the terms upon which he would consent to avail himself of an opportunity to make the only reparation still possible angered the District Attorney, and, turning fiercely upon the prisoner, he arraigned him in scathing terms, stating that he was a miserable swindler and thief, who had robbed thousands of poor people of all the money they had in the world, that he showed himself devoid of every spark of decency or repentance by refusing to assist the law in punishing his confederate and assisting his victims in getting back what was left of the money, and that he, the District Attorney, felt himself humiliated in having consented to come there to visit and talk with such a heartless and depraved specimen of humanity.  The District Attorney then turned his back upon Miller, whose eyes filled with tears, but who made no response.

A few moments later the convict asked permission to speak to the District Attorney alone.  With some reluctance the latter granted the request and the others drew away.

“Mr. District Attorney,” said the wretched man in a trembling voice, with the tears still suffusing his eyes, “I am a thief; I did rob all those poor people, and I am heartily sorry for it.  I would gladly die, if by doing so I could pay them back.  But I haven’t a single cent of all the money that I stole and the only thing that stands between my wife and baby and starvation is my keeping silence.  If I did what you ask, the only money they have to live on would be stopped.  I can’t see them starve, glad as I would be to do what I can now to make up for the wrong I have done.”

The District Attorney’s own eyes were not entirely dry as he held out his hand to Miller.