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Justice

<h2> ACT III </h2> <h3> SCENE I </h3> <blockquote> A prison. A plainly furnished room, with two large barred windows, overlooking the prisoners' exercise yard, where men, in yellow clothes marked with arrows, and yellow brimless caps, are seen in single file at a distance of four yards from each other, walking rapidly on serpentine white lines marked on the concrete floor of the yard. Two warders in blue uniforms, with peaked caps and swords, are stationed amongst them. The room has distempered walls, a bookcase with numerous official-looking books, a cupboard between the windows, a plan of the prison on the wall, a writing-table covered with documents. It is Christmas Eve. The GOVERNOR, a neat, grave-looking man, with a trim, fair moustache, the eyes of a theorist, and grizzled hair, receding from the temples, is standing close to this writing-table looking at a sort of rough saw made out of a piece of metal. The hand in which he holds it is gloved, for two fingers are missing. The chief warder, WOODER, a tall, thin, military-looking man of sixty, with grey moustache and melancholy, monkey-like eyes, stands very upright two paces from him. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. [With a faint, abstracted smile] Queer-looking affair, Mr. Wooder! Where did you find it? WOODER. In his mattress, sir. Haven't come across such a thing for two years now. THE GOVERNOR. [With curiosity] Had he any set plan? WOODER. He'd sawed his window-bar about that much. [He holds up his thumb and finger a quarter of an inch apart] THE GOVERNOR. I'll see him this afternoon. What's his name? Moaney! An old hand, I think? WOODER. Yes, sir-fourth spell of penal. You'd think an old lag like him would have had more sense by now. [With pitying contempt] Occupied his mind, he said. Breaking in and breaking out—that's all they think about. THE GOVERNOR. Who's next him? WOODER. O'Cleary, sir. THE GOVERNOR. The Irishman. WOODER. Next him again there's that young fellow, Falder—star class—and next him old Clipton. THE GOVERNOR. Ah, yes! "The philosopher." I want to see him about his eyes. WOODER. Curious thing, sir: they seem to know when there's one of these tries at escape going on. It makes them restive—there's a regular wave going through them just now. THE GOVERNOR. [Meditatively] Odd things—those waves. [Turning to look at the prisoners exercising] Seem quiet enough out here! WOODER. That Irishman, O'Cleary, began banging on his door this morning. Little thing like that's quite enough to upset the whole lot. They're just like dumb animals at times. THE GOVERNOR. I've seen it with horses before thunder—it'll run right through cavalry lines. <blockquote> The prison CHAPLAIN has entered. He is a dark-haired, ascetic man, in clerical undress, with a peculiarly steady, tight-lipped face and slow, cultured speech. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. [Holding up the saw] Seen this, Miller? THE CHAPLAIN. Useful-looking specimen. THE GOVERNOR. Do for the Museum, eh! [He goes to the cupboard and opens it, displaying to view a number of quaint ropes, hooks, and metal tools with labels tied on them] That'll do, thanks, Mr. Wooder. WOODER. [Saluting] Thank you, sir. [He goes out] THE GOVERNOR. Account for the state of the men last day or two, Miller? Seems going through the whole place. THE CHAPLAIN. No. I don't know of anything. THE GOVERNOR. By the way, will you dine with us on Christmas Day? THE CHAPLAIN. To-morrow. Thanks very much. THE GOVERNOR. Worries me to feel the men discontented. [Gazing at the saw] Have to punish this poor devil. Can't help liking a man who tries to escape. [He places the saw in his pocket and locks the cupboard again] THE CHAPLAIN. Extraordinary perverted will-power—some of them. Nothing to be done till it's broken. THE GOVERNOR. And not much afterwards, I'm afraid. Ground too hard for golf? <blockquote> WOODER comes in again. </blockquote> WOODER. Visitor who's been seeing Q 3007 asks to speak to you, sir. I told him it wasn't usual. THE GOVERNOR. What about? WOODER. Shall I put him off, sir? THE GOVERNOR. [Resignedly] No, no. Let's see him. Don't go, Miller. WOODER motions to some one without, and as the visitor comes in withdraws. <blockquote> The visitor is COKESON, who is attired in a thick overcoat to the knees, woollen gloves, and carries a top hat. </blockquote> COKESON. I'm sorry to trouble you. I've been talking to the young man. THE GOVERNOR. We have a good many here. COKESON. Name of Falder, forgery. [Producing a card, and handing it to the GOVERNOR] Firm of James and Walter How. Well known in the law. THE GOVERNOR. [Receiving the card-with a faint smile] What do you want to see me about, sir? COKESON. [Suddenly seeing the prisoners at exercise] Why! what a sight! THE GOVERNOR. Yes, we have that privilege from here; my office is being done up. [Sitting down at his table] Now, please! COKESON. [Dragging his eyes with difficulty from the window] I wanted to say a word to you; I shan't keep you long. [Confidentially] Fact is, I oughtn't to be here by rights. His sister came to me—he's got no father and mother—and she was in some distress. "My husband won't let me go and see him," she said; "says he's disgraced the family. And his other sister," she said, "is an invalid." And she asked me to come. Well, I take an interest in him. He was our junior—I go to the same chapel—and I didn't like to refuse. And what I wanted to tell you was, he seems lonely here. THE GOVERNOR. Not unnaturally. COKESON. I'm afraid it'll prey on my mind. I see a lot of them about working together. THE GOVERNOR. Those are local prisoners. The convicts serve their three months here in separate confinement, sir. COKESON. But we don't want to be unreasonable. He's quite downhearted. I wanted to ask you to let him run about with the others. THE GOVERNOR. [With faint amusement] Ring the bell-would you, Miller? [To COKESON] You'd like to hear what the doctor says about him, perhaps. THE CHAPLAIN. [Ringing the bell] You are not accustomed to prisons, it would seem, sir. COKESON. No. But it's a pitiful sight. He's quite a young fellow. I said to him: "Before a month's up" I said, "you'll be out and about with the others; it'll be a nice change for you." "A month!" he said —like that! "Come!" I said, "we mustn't exaggerate. What's a month? Why, it's nothing!" "A day," he said, "shut up in your cell thinking and brooding as I do, it's longer than a year outside. I can't help it," he said; "I try—but I'm built that way, Mr. COKESON." And, he held his hand up to his face. I could see the tears trickling through his fingers. It wasn't nice. THE CHAPLAIN. He's a young man with large, rather peculiar eyes, isn't he? Not Church of England, I think? COKESON. No. THE CHAPLAIN. I know. THE GOVERNOR. [To WOODER, who has come in] Ask the doctor to be good enough to come here for a minute. [WOODER salutes, and goes out] Let's see, he's not married? COKESON. No. [Confidentially] But there's a party he's very much attached to, not altogether com-il-fa. It's a sad story. THE CHAPLAIN. If it wasn't for drink and women, sir, this prison might be closed. COKESON. [Looking at the CHAPLAIN over his spectacles] Ye-es, but I wanted to tell you about that, special. He had hopes they'd have let her come and see him, but they haven't. Of course he asked me questions. I did my best, but I couldn't tell the poor young fellow a lie, with him in here—seemed like hitting him. But I'm afraid it's made him worse. THE GOVERNOR. What was this news then? COKESON. Like this. The woman had a nahsty, spiteful feller for a husband, and she'd left him. Fact is, she was going away with our young friend. It's not nice—but I've looked over it. Well, when he was put in here she said she'd earn her living apart, and wait for him to come out. That was a great consolation to him. But after a month she came to me—I don't know her personally—and she said: "I can't earn the children's living, let alone my own—I've got no friends. I'm obliged to keep out of everybody's way, else my husband'd get to know where I was. I'm very much reduced," she said. And she has lost flesh. "I'll have to go in the workhouse!" It's a painful story. I said to her: "No," I said, "not that! I've got a wife an' family, but sooner than you should do that I'll spare you a little myself." "Really," she said—she's a nice creature—"I don't like to take it from you. I think I'd better go back to my husband." Well, I know he's a nahsty, spiteful feller—drinks—but I didn't like to persuade her not to. THE CHAPLAIN. Surely, no. COKESON. Ye-es, but I'm sorry now; it's upset the poor young fellow dreadfully. And what I wanted to say was: He's got his three years to serve. I want things to be pleasant for him. THE CHAPLAIN. [With a touch of impatience] The Law hardly shares your view, I'm afraid. COKESON. But I can't help thinking that to shut him up there by himself'll turn him silly. And nobody wants that, I s'pose. I don't like to see a man cry. THE CHAPLAIN. It's a very rare thing for them to give way like that. COKESON. [Looking at him-in a tone of sudden dogged hostility] I keep dogs. THE CHAPLAIN. Indeed? COKESON. Ye-es. And I say this: I wouldn't shut one of them up all by himself, month after month, not if he'd bit me all over. THE CHAPLAIN. Unfortunately, the criminal is not a dog; he has a sense of right and wrong. COKESON. But that's not the way to make him feel it. THE CHAPLAIN. Ah! there I'm afraid we must differ. COKESON. It's the same with dogs. If you treat 'em with kindness they'll do anything for you; but to shut 'em up alone, it only makes 'em savage. THE CHAPLAIN. Surely you should allow those who have had a little more experience than yourself to know what is best for prisoners. COKESON. [Doggedly] I know this young feller, I've watched him for years. He's eurotic—got no stamina. His father died of consumption. I'm thinking of his future. If he's to be kept there shut up by himself, without a cat to keep him company, it'll do him harm. I said to him: "Where do you feel it?" "I can't tell you, Mr. COKESON," he said, "but sometimes I could beat my head against the wall." It's not nice. <blockquote> During this speech the DOCTOR has entered. He is a medium-Sized, rather good-looking man, with a quick eye. He stands leaning against the window. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. This gentleman thinks the separate is telling on Q 3007—Falder, young thin fellow, star class. What do you say, Doctor Clements? THE DOCTOR. He doesn't like it, but it's not doing him any harm. COKESON. But he's told me. THE DOCTOR. Of course he'd say so, but we can always tell. He's lost no weight since he's been here. COKESON. It's his state of mind I'm speaking of. THE DOCTOR. His mind's all right so far. He's nervous, rather melancholy. I don't see signs of anything more. I'm watching him carefully. COKESON. [Nonplussed] I'm glad to hear you say that. THE CHAPLAIN. [More suavely] It's just at this period that we are able to make some impression on them, sir. I am speaking from my special standpoint. COKESON. [Turning bewildered to the GOVERNOR] I don't want to be unpleasant, but having given him this news, I do feel it's awkward. THE GOVERNOR. I'll make a point of seeing him to-day. COKESON. I'm much obliged to you. I thought perhaps seeing him every day you wouldn't notice it. THE GOVERNOR. [Rather sharply] If any sign of injury to his health shows itself his case will be reported at once. That's fully provided for. [He rises] COKESON. [Following his own thoughts] Of course, what you don't see doesn't trouble you; but having seen him, I don't want to have him on my mind. THE GOVERNOR. I think you may safely leave it to us, sir. COKESON. [Mollified and apologetic] I thought you'd understand me. I'm a plain man—never set myself up against authority. [Expanding to the CHAPLAIN] Nothing personal meant. Good-morning. <blockquote> As he goes out the three officials do not look at each other, but their faces wear peculiar expressions. </blockquote> THE CHAPLAIN. Our friend seems to think that prison is a hospital. COKESON. [Returning suddenly with an apologetic air] There's just one little thing. This woman—I suppose I mustn't ask you to let him see her. It'd be a rare treat for them both. He's thinking about her all the time. Of course she's not his wife. But he's quite safe in here. They're a pitiful couple. You couldn't make an exception? THE GOVERNOR. [Wearily] As you say, my dear sir, I couldn't make an exception; he won't be allowed another visit of any sort till he goes to a convict prison. COKESON. I see. [Rather coldly] Sorry to have troubled you. [He again goes out] THE CHAPLAIN. [Shrugging his shoulders] The plain man indeed, poor fellow. Come and have some lunch, Clements? <blockquote> He and the DOCTOR go out talking. The GOVERNOR, with a sigh, sits down at his table and takes up a pen. </blockquote> <blockquote> The curtain falls. </blockquote> SCENE II <blockquote> Part of the ground corridor of the prison. The walls are coloured with greenish distemper up to a stripe of deeper green about the height of a man's shoulder, and above this line are whitewashed. The floor is of blackened stones. Daylight is filtering through a heavily barred window at the end. The doors of four cells are visible. Each cell door has a little round peep-hole at the level of a man's eye, covered by a little round disc, which, raised upwards, affords a view o f the cell. On the wall, close to each cell door, hangs a little square board with the prisoner's name, number, and record. Overhead can be seen the iron structures of the first-floor and second-floor corridors. The WARDER INSTRUCTOR, a bearded man in blue uniform, with an apron, and some dangling keys, is just emerging from one of the cells. </blockquote> INSTRUCTOR. [Speaking from the door into the cell] I'll have another bit for you when that's finished. O'CLEARY. [Unseen—in an Irish voice] Little doubt o' that, sirr. INSTRUCTOR. [Gossiping] Well, you'd rather have it than nothing, I s'pose. O'CLEARY. An' that's the blessed truth. <blockquote> Sounds are heard of a cell door being closed and locked, and of approaching footsteps. </blockquote> INSTRUCTOR. [In a sharp, changed voice] Look alive over it! <blockquote> He shuts the cell door, and stands at attention. The GOVERNOR comes walking down the corridor, followed by WOODER. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. Anything to report? INSTRUCTOR. [Saluting] Q 3007 [he points to a cell] is behind with his work, sir. He'll lose marks to-day. <blockquote> The GOVERNOR nods and passes on to the end cell. The INSTRUCTOR goes away. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. This is our maker of saws, isn't it? <blockquote> He takes the saw from his pocket as WOODER throws open the door of the cell. The convict MOANEY is seen lying on his bed, athwart the cell, with his cap on. He springs up and stands in the middle of the cell. He is a raw-boned fellow, about fifty-six years old, with outstanding bat's ears and fierce, staring, steel-coloured eyes. </blockquote> WOODER. Cap off! [MOANEY removes his cap] Out here! [MOANEY Comes to the door] THE GOVERNOR. [Beckoning him out into the corridor, and holding up the saw—with the manner of an officer speaking to a private] Anything to say about this, my man? [MOANEY is silent] Come! MOANEY. It passed the time. THE GOVERNOR. [Pointing into the cell] Not enough to do, eh? MOANEY. It don't occupy your mind. THE GOVERNOR. [Tapping the saw] You might find a better way than this. MOANEY. [Sullenly] Well! What way? I must keep my hand in against the time I get out. What's the good of anything else to me at my time of life? [With a gradual change to civility, as his tongue warms] Ye know that, sir. I'll be in again within a year or two, after I've done this lot. I don't want to disgrace meself when I'm out. You've got your pride keeping the prison smart; well, I've got mine. [Seeing that the GOVERNOR is listening with interest, he goes on, pointing to the saw] I must be doin' a little o' this. It's no harm to any one. I was five weeks makin' that saw—a bit of all right it is, too; now I'll get cells, I suppose, or seven days' bread and water. You can't help it, sir, I know that—I quite put meself in your place. THE GOVERNOR. Now, look here, Moaney, if I pass it over will you give me your word not to try it on again? Think! [He goes into the cell, walks to the end of it, mounts the stool, and tries the window-bars] THE GOVERNOR. [Returning] Well? MOANEY. [Who has been reflecting] I've got another six weeks to do in here, alone. I can't do it and think o' nothing. I must have something to interest me. You've made me a sporting offer, sir, but I can't pass my word about it. I shouldn't like to deceive a gentleman. [Pointing into the cell] Another four hours' steady work would have done it. THE GOVERNOR. Yes, and what then? Caught, brought back, punishment. Five weeks' hard work to make this, and cells at the end of it, while they put anew bar to your window. Is it worth it, Moaney? MOANEY. [With a sort of fierceness] Yes, it is. THE GOVERNOR. [Putting his hand to his brow] Oh, well! Two days' cells-bread and water. MOANEY. Thank 'e, sir. <blockquote> He turns quickly like an animal and slips into his cell. The GOVERNOR looks after him and shakes his head as WOODER closes and locks the cell door. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. Open Clipton's cell. <blockquote> WOODER opens the door of CLIPTON'S cell. CLIPTON is sitting on a stool just inside the door, at work on a pair of trousers. He is a small, thick, oldish man, with an almost shaven head, and smouldering little dark eyes behind smoked spectacles. He gets up and stands motionless in the doorway, peering at his visitors. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. [Beckoning] Come out here a minute, Clipton. <blockquote> CLIPTON, with a sort of dreadful quietness, comes into the corridor, the needle and thread in his hand. The GOVERNOR signs to WOODER, who goes into the cell and inspects it carefully. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. How are your eyes? CLIFTON. I don't complain of them. I don't see the sun here. [He makes a stealthy movement, protruding his neck a little] There's just one thing, Mr. Governor, as you're speaking to me. I wish you'd ask the cove next door here to keep a bit quieter. THE GOVERNOR. What's the matter? I don't want any tales, Clipton. CLIPTON. He keeps me awake. I don't know who he is. [With contempt] One of this star class, I expect. Oughtn't to be here with us. THE GOVERNOR. [Quietly] Quite right, Clipton. He'll be moved when there's a cell vacant. CLIPTON. He knocks about like a wild beast in the early morning. I'm not used to it—stops me getting my sleep out. In the evening too. It's not fair, Mr. Governor, as you're speaking to me. Sleep's the comfort I've got here; I'm entitled to take it out full. <blockquote> WOODER comes out of the cell, and instantly, as though extinguished, CLIPTON moves with stealthy suddenness back into his cell. </blockquote> WOODER. All right, sir. <blockquote> THE GOVERNOR nods. The door is closed and locked. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. Which is the man who banged on his door this morning? WOODER. [Going towards O'CLEARY'S cell] This one, sir; O'Cleary. <blockquote> He lifts the disc and glances through the peephole. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. Open. <blockquote> WOODER throws open the door. O'CLEARY, who is seated at a little table by the door as if listening, springs up and stands at attention jest inside the doorway. He is a broad-faced, middle-aged man, with a wide, thin, flexible mouth, and little holes under his high cheek-bones. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. Where's the joke, O'Cleary? O'CLEARY. The joke, your honour? I've not seen one for a long time. THE GOVERNOR. Banging on your door? O'CLEARY. Oh! that! THE GOVERNOR. It's womanish. O'CLEARY. An' it's that I'm becoming this two months past. THE GOVERNOR. Anything to complain of? O'CLEARY. NO, Sirr. THE GOVERNOR. You're an old hand; you ought to know better. O'CLEARY. Yes, I've been through it all. THE GOVERNOR. You've got a youngster next door; you'll upset him. O'CLEARY. It cam' over me, your honour. I can't always be the same steady man. THE GOVERNOR. Work all right? O'CLEARY. [Taking up a rush mat he is making] Oh! I can do it on me head. It's the miserablest stuff—don't take the brains of a mouse. [Working his mouth] It's here I feel it—the want of a little noise —a terrible little wud ease me. THE GOVERNOR. You know as well as I do that if you were out in the shops you wouldn't be allowed to talk. O'CLEARY. [With a look of profound meaning] Not with my mouth. THE GOVERNOR. Well, then? O'CLEARY. But it's the great conversation I'd have. THE GOVERNOR. [With a smile] Well, no more conversation on your door. O'CLEARY. No, sirr, I wud not have the little wit to repeat meself. THE GOVERNOR. [Turning] Good-night. O'CLEARY. Good-night, your honour. <blockquote> He turns into his cell. The GOVERNOR shuts the door. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. [Looking at the record card] Can't help liking the poor blackguard. WOODER. He's an amiable man, sir. THE GOVERNOR. [Pointing down the corridor] Ask the doctor to come here, Mr. Wooder. <blockquote> WOODER salutes and goes away down the corridor. The GOVERNOR goes to the door of FALDER'S cell. He raises his uninjured hand to uncover the peep-hole; but, without uncovering it, shakes his head and drops his hand; then, after scrutinising the record board, he opens the cell door. FALDER, who is standing against it, lurches forward. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. [Beckoning him out] Now tell me: can't you settle down, Falder? FALDER. [In a breathless voice] Yes, sir. THE GOVERNOR. You know what I mean? It's no good running your head against a stone wall, is it? FALDER. No, sir. THE GOVERNOR. Well, come. FALDER. I try, sir. THE GOVERNOR. Can't you sleep? FALDER. Very little. Between two o'clock and getting up's the worst time. THE GOVERNOR. How's that? FALDER. [His lips twitch with a sort of smile] I don't know, sir. I was always nervous. [Suddenly voluble] Everything seems to get such a size then. I feel I'll never get out as long as I live. THE GOVERNOR. That's morbid, my lad. Pull yourself together. FALDER. [With an equally sudden dogged resentment] Yes—I've got to. THE GOVERNOR. Think of all these other fellows? FALDER. They're used to it. THE GOVERNOR. They all had to go through it once for the first time, just as you're doing now. FALDER. Yes, sir, I shall get to be like them in time, I suppose. THE GOVERNOR. [Rather taken aback] H'm! Well! That rests with you. Now come. Set your mind to it, like a good fellow. You're still quite young. A man can make himself what he likes. FALDER. [Wistfully] Yes, sir. THE GOVERNOR. Take a good hold of yourself. Do you read? FALDER. I don't take the words in. [Hanging his head] I know it's no good; but I can't help thinking of what's going on outside. In my cell I can't see out at all. It's thick glass, sir. THE GOVERNOR. You've had a visitor. Bad news? FALDER. Yes. THE GOVERNOR. You mustn't think about it. FALDER. [Looking back at his cell] How can I help it, sir? <blockquote> He suddenly becomes motionless as WOODER and the DOCTOR approach. The GOVERNOR motions to him to go back into his cell. </blockquote> FALDER. [Quick and low] I'm quite right in my head, sir. [He goes back into his cell.] THE GOVERNOR. [To the DOCTOR] Just go in and see him, Clements. <blockquote> The DOCTOR goes into the cell. The GOVERNOR pushes the door to, nearly closing it, and walks towards the window. </blockquote> WOODER. [Following] Sorry you should be troubled like this, sir. Very contented lot of men, on the whole. THE GOVERNOR. [Shortly] You think so? WOODER. Yes, sir. It's Christmas doing it, in my opinion. THE GOVERNOR. [To himself] Queer, that! WOODER. Beg pardon, sir? THE GOVERNOR. Christmas! <blockquote> He turns towards the window, leaving WOODER looking at him with a sort of pained anxiety. </blockquote> WOODER. [Suddenly] Do you think we make show enough, sir? If you'd like us to have more holly? THE GOVERNOR. Not at all, Mr. Wooder. WOODER. Very good, sir. <blockquote> The DOCTOR has come out of FALDER's Cell, and the GOVERNOR beckons to him. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. Well? THE DOCTOR. I can't make anything much of him. He's nervous, of course. THE GOVERNOR. Is there any sort of case to report? Quite frankly, Doctor. THE DOCTOR. Well, I don't think the separates doing him any good; but then I could say the same of a lot of them—they'd get on better in the shops, there's no doubt. THE GOVERNOR. You mean you'd have to recommend others? THE DOCTOR. A dozen at least. It's on his nerves. There's nothing tangible. That fellow there [pointing to O'CLEARY'S cell], for instance—feels it just as much, in his way. If I once get away from physical facts—I shan't know where I am. Conscientiously, sir, I don't know how to differentiate him. He hasn't lost weight. Nothing wrong with his eyes. His pulse is good. Talks all right. THE GOVERNOR. It doesn't amount to melancholia? THE DOCTOR. [Shaking his head] I can report on him if you like; but if I do I ought to report on others. THE GOVERNOR. I see. [Looking towards FALDER'S cell] The poor devil must just stick it then. <blockquote> As he says thin he looks absently at WOODER. </blockquote> WOODER. Beg pardon, sir? <blockquote> For answer the GOVERNOR stares at him, turns on his heel, and walks away. There is a sound as of beating on metal. </blockquote> THE GOVERNOR. [Stopping] Mr. Wooder? WOODER. Banging on his door, sir. I thought we should have more of that. <blockquote> He hurries forward, passing the GOVERNOR, who follows closely. </blockquote> <blockquote> The curtain falls. </blockquote> SCENE III <blockquote> FALDER's cell, a whitewashed space thirteen feet broad by seven deep, and nine feet high, with a rounded ceiling. The floor is of shiny blackened bricks. The barred window of opaque glass, with a ventilator, is high up in the middle of the end wall. In the middle of the opposite end wall is the narrow door. In a corner are the mattress and bedding rolled up [two blankets, two sheets, and a coverlet]. Above them is a quarter-circular wooden shelf, on which is a Bible and several little devotional books, piled in a symmetrical pyramid; there are also a black hair brush, tooth-brush, and a bit of soap. In another corner is the wooden frame of a bed, standing on end. There is a dark ventilator under the window, and another over the door. FALDER'S work [a shirt to which he is putting buttonholes] is hung to a nail on the wall over a small wooden table, on which the novel "Lorna Doone" lies open. Low down in the corner by the door is a thick glass screen, about a foot square, covering the gas-jet let into the wall. There is also a wooden stool, and a pair of shoes beneath it. Three bright round tins are set under the window. In fast-failing daylight, FALDER, in his stockings, is seen standing motionless, with his head inclined towards the door, listening. He moves a little closer to the door, his stockinged feet making no noise. He stops at the door. He is trying harder and harder to hear something, any little thing that is going on outside. He springs suddenly upright—as if at a sound-and remains perfectly motionless. Then, with a heavy sigh, he moves to his work, and stands looking at it, with his head doom; he does a stitch or two, having the air of a man so lost in sadness that each stitch is, as it were, a coming to life. Then turning abruptly, he begins pacing the cell, moving his head, like an animal pacing its cage. He stops again at the door, listens, and, placing the palms of hip hands against it with his fingers spread out, leans his forehead against the iron. Turning from it, presently, he moves slowly back towards the window, tracing his way with his finger along the top line of the distemper that runs round the wall. He stops under the window, and, picking up the lid of one of the tins, peers into it. It has grown very nearly dark. Suddenly the lid falls out of his hand with a clatter—the only sound that has broken the silence—and he stands staring intently at the wall where the stuff of the shirt is hanging rather white in the darkness—he seems to be seeing somebody or something there. There is a sharp tap and click; the cell light behind the glass screen has been turned up. The cell is brightly lighted. FALDER is seen gasping for breath. A sound from far away, as of distant, dull beating on thick metal, is suddenly audible. FALDER shrinks back, not able to bear this sudden clamour. But the sound grows, as though some great tumbril were rolling towards the cell. And gradually it seems to hypnotise him. He begins creeping inch by inch nearer to the door. The banging sound, travelling from cell to cell, draws closer and closer; FALDER'S hands are seen moving as if his spirit had already joined in this beating, and the sound swells till it seems to have entered the very cell. He suddenly raises his clenched fists. Panting violently, he flings himself at his door, and beats on it. </blockquote> <blockquote> The curtain falls. </blockquote> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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