ng with his furtive espionage.

Wagg was a prison guard.

After Vaniman was committed, Wagg complained of rheumatism and asked the
warden to transfer him from the wall where he had been doing sentry-go
with a rifle and give him an inside job as night warder. And the warden
humored Wagg, who was a trusted veteran.

Wagg made regular trips along the cell tiers during the night. He padded
as noiselessly as a cat, for he had soles of felt on his shoes. Many
times, keeping vigil when his emotions would not allow him to sleep,
Vaniman saw Wagg halt and peer through the bars of the cell. The
corridor light showed his face. But Wagg did not accost the prisoner.
The guard acted like a man who, whatever might be his particular
interest in Vaniman, proposed to take plenty of time in getting
acquainted.

Once, after midnight, Wagg found the prisoner pacing; Vaniman dared to
relieve his feelings by groans, for the chorus of snores served as a
sound-screen.

"Sick?" inquired the guard, whispering.

"No."

"If you ever are, don't be afraid to call on me when I pass. I've got a
good heart."

"Thank you!"

"I've really got too good a heart to be tied up to a prison job,"
volunteered Wagg. "I hate to see sorrow."

"Sorrow is about all you have a chance to see in this place."

"Yes," admitted the guard, sliding away.

The warden had given Vaniman a bookkeeper's job. But the prison office
was a gloomy place and the windows were hatefully barred Through the
bars he could see convict toilers wheeling barrows of dirt. They were
filling up a lime-quarry pit within the walls. In the old days convicts
had quarried lime rocks. But in the newer days of shops the quarry was
abandoned and had been gradually filled with stagnant water. When the
prison commissioners decided that the pool was a menace to health, a
crew was set at work filling the pit. Vaniman envied the men who could
work in the sunshine. He was everlastingly behind bars; the office was
not much better than his cell. The bars shut him away from opportunity
to make a man's fight for himself. Every time he looked at a window he
was reminded of his helplessness. It seemed to him that if he could get
out into the sunshine and toil till his muscles ached he would be able
to endure better the night of confinement in the cell.

He blurted out that much of confession to Wagg when the guard discovered
him pacing in the narrow space a few nights later.

"I sympathize!" whisper