Sometimes one was in debt for services, and sometimes one had others in his debt.  Thus, I entered the prison in debt to the convict who smuggled in my things for me.  A week or so afterward, one of the firemen passed a letter into my hand.  It had been given to him by a barber.  The barber had received it from the convict who had smuggled in my things.  Because of my debt to him I was to carry the letter on.  But he had not written the letter.  The original sender was a long-timer in his hall.  The letter was for a woman prisoner in the female department.  But whether it was intended for her, or whether she, in turn, was one of the chain of go-betweens, I did not know.  All that I knew was her description, and that it was up to me to get it into her hands.

Two days passed, during which time I kept the letter in my possession; then the opportunity came.  The women did the mending of all the clothes worn by the convicts.  A number of our hall-men had to go to the female department to bring back huge bundles of clothes.  I fixed it with the First Hall-man that I was to go along.  Door after door was unlocked for us as we threaded our way across the prison to the women’s quarters.  We entered a large room where the women sat working at their mending.  My eyes were peeled for the woman who had been described to me.  I located her and worked near to her.  Two eagle-eyed matrons were on watch.  I held the letter in my palm, and I looked my intention at the woman.  She knew I had something for her; she must have been expecting it, and had set herself to divining, at the moment we entered, which of us was the messenger.  But one of the matrons stood within two feet of her.  Already the hall-men were picking up the bundles they were to carry away.  The moment was passing.  I delayed with my bundle, making believe that it was not tied securely.  Would that matron ever look away?  Or was I to fail?  And just then another woman cut up playfully with one of the hall-men—­stuck out her foot and tripped him, or pinched him, or did something or other.  The matron looked that way and reprimanded the woman sharply.  Now I do not know whether or not this was all planned to distract the matron’s attention, but I did know that it was my opportunity.  My particular woman’s hand dropped from her lap down by her side.  I stooped to pick up my bundle.  From my stooping position I slipped the letter into her hand, and received another in exchange.  The next moment the bundle was on my shoulder, the matron’s gaze had returned to me because I was the last hall-man, and I was hastening to catch up with my companions.  The letter I had received from the woman I turned over to the fireman, and thence it passed through the hands of the barber, of the convict who had smuggled in my things, and on to the long-timer at the other end.