Mr. Hawes took his time.  He shook hands with Fry, who bade him farewell with regret.  Who is there that somebody does not contrive to like?  And rejecting even this mastiff’s company he made a gloomy, solitary progress through the prison for the last time.  “How clean and beautiful it all is; it wasn’t like that when I came to it, and it never will again.”  Some gleams of remorse began to flit about that thick skull and self-deceiving heart, for punishment suggests remorse to sordid natures.  But his strong and abiding feeling was a sincere and profound sense of ill usage—­long service—­couldn’t overlook a single error—­ungrateful government, etc.  “Prison go to the devil now—­and serve them right.”  At last he drew near the outer court, and there he met a sight that raised all the fiend within him.  There was Mr. Eden ushering Strutt into the garden, and telling Evans the old man was to pass his whole days there till he was better.  “So that is the way you keep the rules now you have undermined me!  No cell at all.  I thought what you would come to.  You haven’t been long getting there.”

“Mr. Hawes,” replied the other with perfect good temper, “Rule 34 of this prison enjoins that every prisoner shall take daily as much exercise in the open air as is necessary for his health.  You have violated this rule so long that now Strutt’s health requires him to pass many more hours in the air than he otherwise would; he is dying for air and amusement, and he shall have both sooner than die for the want of them, or of anything I can give him.”

“And what is it to him?" retorted Evans with rude triumph; “he is no longer an officer of this jail; he has got the sack and orders to quit into the bargain.”

Fear is entertained that Mr. Evans had listened more or less at the door of the justices’ room.

“Is this so, sir?” asked Mr. Eden gravely, politely, and without a shadow of visible exultation.

“You know it is, you sneaking, undermining villain; you have weathered on me, you have out-maneuvered me.  When was an honest soldier a match for a parson?”

“Ah!” cried Mr. Eden.  “Then run to the gate, Evans, and let the men into the jail with the printing-press and the looms.  They have been waiting four hours for this.”

Hawes turned black with rage.  “Oh, I know you made sure of winning; a blackguard that loads the dice can always do that.  Your triumph won’t be long.  I was in this jail honored and respected for four years till you came.  You won’t be four months before you are kicked out, and no one to say a good word for you.  A pretty Christian! to suborn my own servants and rob me of my place and make me a beggar in my old age, a man you are not worthy to serve under, a man that served his country by sea and land before you were whelped, ye black hypocrite.  You a Christian! you?  If I thought that I’d turn Atheist or anything, you poor, backbiting, tale-telling, sneaking, undermining, false witness bearing—­”