ector had given him,
he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was
astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his
habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his
eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full
of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication,
these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either
appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders.

He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange
scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the
prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between
obstinacy and resolution.

It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir,
give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take
notice that I tell you this."

Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground
for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on
his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his
fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing,

"What are you about here, Sam?"

Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in
judgment!_"

At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment
when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his
foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor.
The director inquired whence that noise proceeded.

"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my
comrade."

"Impossible!" said his master.

"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and
looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the
first of November, I give you till the 10th."

A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him,
and that it was a case for solitary confinement.

"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile,
"we must be gentle with these sort of people."

On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by
himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of
sunshine at the further corner of the court.

"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad."

"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to
this gentle Mr. Flint_."

There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam
N