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.

     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.

The governor.  Open Clipton’s cell.

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.

The governor. [Beckoning] Come out here a minute, Clipton.

     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.

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.

     Wooder comes out of the cell, and instantly, as though
     extinguished, Clipton moves with stealthy suddenness back into
     his cell.