“But what?”

“These gentlemen are the visiting justices?”

“Yes!”

“They would be offended if I told the truth.”

Mr. Lacy.  “I am here from the Secretary of State, and I bid you tell the truth.”

Prisoner.  “Oh! are you, sir; well, then, the truth is, I never was refractory but once.”

Mr. Lacy.  “Oh! you were refractory once?”

Prisoner.  “Yes, sir!”

Mr. Lacy.  “How came that?”

Prisoner.  “Well, sir! it was the first week.  I had never been in a separate cell before, and it drove me mad; no one came near me or spoke a word to me, and I turned savage; I didn’t know myself, and I broke everything in the cell.”

Mr. Eden.  “And the other times?”

Prisoner.  “The other times, sir, I was called refractory but I was not.”

Mr. Eden.  “What punishments have been inflicted on you by the governor?”

Prisoner.  “Well, sir! the black-cell, bread and water, and none of that; took away my gas once or twice, but generally it was the punishment jacket.”

Mr. Lacy.  “Hum! the punishment jacket.”

Mr. Eden.  “How long since you had the punishment jacket?”

Prisoner.  “No longer than yesterday.”

Mr. Eden.  “Strip, my man, and let us look at your back.”

The prisoner stripped and showed his back, striped livid and red by the cutting straps.

Mr. Lacy gave a start, but the next moment he resumed his official composure, and at this juncture Mr. Hawes bustled into the cell and fixed his eye on the prisoner.

“What are you doing?” said he, eying the man.

“The gentleman made me strip, sir,” said the prisoner with an ill-used air.

“Have you any complaint to make against me?”

“No, sir!”

“Then what have you been humbugging us for all this time,” cried Mr. Williams contemptuously.

“For instance,” cried Mr. Eden in the same tone, glancing slyly at Mr. Lacy, “how dare you show us frightful wales upon your back when you know they only exist in your imagination—­and mine.”

Mr. Lacy laughed.  “That is true, he can’t retract his wales, and I shall be glad to know how they came there.”  Here he made a note.

“I will show you by and by,” said Mr. Eden.

The next two cells they went to, the prisoners assured Mr. Lacy that they were treated like Mr. Hawes’s children.

“Well, sir!” said Lacy, with evident satisfaction, “what do you say to that?”

“I say—­use your eyes.”  And he wheeled the last prisoner to the light.  “Look at this hollow eye and faded cheek; look at this trembling frame and feel this halting pulse.  Here is a poor wretch crushed and quelled by cruelty till scarce a vestige of man is left.  Look at him! here is an object to pretend to you that he has been kindly used.  Poor wretch, his face gives the lie to his tongue, and my life on it his body confirms his face.  Strip, my lad.”