“May we see Gates at once?” asked Kenneth.

“Sure-ly!  I’ll take you to his cell, myself.  It’s just shocking how such a little thing as stoppin’ smoking will rile up a fellow.  Come this way, please.”

They followed the jailer along a succession of passages.

“Smoked ever sence I was a boy, you know, an’ had to stop last week because Doc said it would kill me if I didn’t,” remarked the jailer, leading the way.  “Sometimes I’m that yearning for a smoke I’m nearly crazy, an’ I dunno which is worst, dyin’ one way or another.  This is Gates’ cell—­the best in the shop.”

He unlocked the door, and called: 

“Here’s visitors, Tom.”

“Thank you, Mr. Markham,” replied a quiet voice, as a young man came forward from the dim interior of the cell.  “How are you feeling, today?”

“Worse, Tom; worse ’n ever,” replied the jailer, gloomily.

“Well, stick it out, old man; don’t give in.”

“I won’t, Tom.  Smokin’ ‘ll kill me sure, an’ there’s a faint hope o’ livin’ through this struggle to give it up.  This visitor is Mr. Forbes of Elmhurst, an’ the young lady is—­”

“Miss DeGraf,” said Kenneth, noticing the boy’s face critically, as he stood where the light from the passage fell upon it.  “Will you leave us alone, please, Mr. Markham?”

“Sure-ly, Mr. Forbes.  You’ve got twenty minutes according to regulations.  I’ll come and get you then.  Sorry we haven’t any reception room in the jail.  All visits has to be made in the cells.”

Then he deliberately locked Kenneth and Beth in with the forger, and retreated along the passage.

“Sit down, please,” said Gates, in a cheerful and pleasant voice.  “There’s a bench here.”

“We’ve come to inquire about your case, Gates,” said Kenneth.  “It seems you have forged a check.”

“Yes, sir, I plead guilty, although I’ve been told I ought not to confess.  But the fact is that I forged the check and got the money, and I’m willing to stand the consequences.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Beth.

He was silent and turned his face away.

A fresh, wholesome looking boy, was Tom Gates, with steady gray eyes, an intelligent forehead, but a sensitive, rather weak mouth.  He was of sturdy, athletic build and dressed neatly in a suit that was of coarse material but well brushed and cared for.

Beth thought his appearance pleasing and manly.  Kenneth decided that he was ill at ease and in a state of dogged self-repression.

“We have heard something of your story,” said Kenneth, “and are interested in it.  But there is no doubt you have acted very foolishly.”

“Do you know Lucy, sir?” asked the young man.

“No.”

“Lucy is very proud.  The thing was killing her, and I couldn’t bear it.  I didn’t stop to think whether it was foolish or not.  I did it; and I’m glad I did.”

“You have made her still more unhappy,” said Beth, gently.