The case was set for the Monday fortnight. In due course the time arrived. In the mean time the city government had been at a standstill, because with out Luigi there was a tie in the board of aldermen, whereas with him the liquor interest—the richest in the political field—would have one majority. But the court decided that Angelo could not sit in the board with him, either in public or executive sessions, and at the same time forbade the board to deny admission to Luigi, a fairly and legally chosen alderman. The case was carried up and up from court to court, yet still the same old original decision was confirmed every time. As a result, the city government not only stood still, with its hands tied, but everything it was created to protect and care for went a steady gait toward rack and ruin. There was no way to levy a tax, so the minor officials had to resign or starve; therefore they resigned. There being no city money, the enormous legal expenses on both sides had to be defrayed by private subscription. But at last the people came to their senses, and said:
“Pudd’nhead was right at the start—we ought to have hired the official half of that human phillipene to resign; but it’s too late now; some of us haven’t got anything left to hire him with.”
“Yes, we have,” said another citizen, “we’ve got this”—and he produced a halter.
Many shouted: “That’s the ticket.” But others said: “No—Count Angelo is innocent; we mustn’t hang him.”
“Who said anything about hanging him? We are only going to hang the other one.”
“Then that is all right—there is no objection to that.”
So they hanged Luigi. And so ends the history of “Those Extraordinary Twins.”