ly closing it, and walks towards the window.

WOODER. [Following] Sorry you should be troubled like this, sir.
Very contented lot of men, on the whole.

THE GOVERNOR. [Shortly] You think so?

WOODER. Yes, sir. It's Christmas doing it, in my opinion.

THE GOVERNOR. [To himself] Queer, that!

WOODER. Beg pardon, sir?

THE GOVERNOR. Christmas!

He turns towards the window, leaving WOODER looking at him with
a sort of pained anxiety.

WOODER. [Suddenly] Do you think we make show enough, sir? If you'd
like us to have more holly?

THE GOVERNOR. Not at all, Mr. Wooder.

WOODER. Very good, sir.

The DOCTOR has come out of FALDER's Cell, and the GOVERNOR
beckons to him.

THE GOVERNOR. Well?

THE DOCTOR. I can't make anything much of him. He's nervous, of
course.

THE GOVERNOR. Is there any sort of case to report? Quite frankly,
Doctor.

THE DOCTOR. Well, I don't think the separates doing him any good;
but then I could say the same of a lot of them--they'd get on better
in the shops, there's no doubt.

THE GOVERNOR. You mean you'd have to recommend others?

THE DOCTOR. A dozen at least. It's on his nerves. There's nothing
tangible. That fellow there [pointing to O'CLEARY'S cell], for
instance--feels it just as much, in his way. If I once get away from
physical facts--I shan't know where I am. Conscientiously, sir, I
don't know how to differentiate him. He hasn't lost weight. Nothing
wrong with his eyes. His pulse is good. Talks all right.

THE GOVERNOR. It doesn't amount to melancholia?

THE DOCTOR. [Shaking his head] I can report on him if you like; but
if I do I ought to report on others.

THE GOVERNOR. I see. [Looking towards FALDER'S cell] The poor
devil must just stick it then.

As he says thin he looks absently at WOODER.

WOODER. Beg pardon, sir?

For answer the GOVERNOR stares at him, turns on his heel, and
walks away. There is a sound as of beating on metal.

THE GOVERNOR. [Stopping] Mr. Wooder?

WOODER. Banging on his door, sir. I thought we should have more of
that.

He hurries forward, passing the GOVERNOR, who follows closely.

The curtain falls.

SCENE III

FALDER's cell, a whitewashed space thirteen feet broad by seven
deep, and nine feet high, with a rounded ceiling. The floor is
of shiny blackened bricks. The barred window of opaque glass,