Williams.  “You rascal, the last time I was here you told me you never were so happy and comfortable.”

Prisoner.  “Ha! ha! ha! ha! he! he! haw! haw! ho!  I ask your pardon for laughing, sir; but you are so precious green.  Why, if I had told you the truth then I shouldn’t be alive to talk to you now.”

“What, I should have murdered you, should I!” said Mr. Hawes, with a lofty sneer.

“Why you know you would, sir,” replied the prisoner firmly and respectfully, looking him full in the face before them all.

Mr. Lacy.  “You don’t think so, or you would not take these liberties with him now.”

The prisoner cast a look of pity on Mr. Lacy.

“Well, you are green—­what, can’t you see that I am going out to-day?  Do you think I’d be such a cully as to tell a pack of greenhorns like you the truth before a sharp hand like our governor, if I was in his power; no, my term of imprisonment expired at twelve o’clock to-day.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’ll tell you, sir.  Our governor always detains a prisoner for hours after the law sets him free.  So then the poor fellow has not time to get back to his friends, so then he sleeps in the town, ten to one at a public-house; gets a glass, gets into bad company, and in a month or two comes back here.  That is the move, sir.  Bless you, they are so fond of us they don’t like to part with us for good and all.”

Mr. Lacy.  “I do not for a moment believe, Mr. Hawes, that you have foreseen these consequences, but the detention of this man after twelve o’clock is clearly illegal, and you must liberate him on the instant.”

Mr. Hawes.  “That I will, and I wish this had been pointed out to me before, but it was a custom of the prison before my time.”

Mr. Eden.  “Evans, come this way, come in.  How long have you been a turnkey here?”

Evans.  “Four years, sir.”

Mr. Eden.  “Do you happen to remember the practice of the late governor with respect to prisoners whose sentence had expired?”

Evans.  “Yes, sir!  They were kept in their cells all the morning; then at eleven their own clothes were brought in clean and dry, and they had half an hour given them to take off the prison dress and put on their own.  Then a little before twelve they were taken into the governor’s own room for a word of friendly advice on leaving, or a good book, or a tract, or what not.  Then at sharp twelve the gate was opened for them, and—­”

Prisoner.  “Good-by!—­till we see you again.”

Evans (sternly).  “Come, my man, it is not for you to speak till you are spoken to.”