ree flights of stairs that led to the division in which his
cell was. "By the way," he remarked as they went, "I forgot to tell you
that you and I have got to part."

"Oh?" said Gurn. "Am I to be transferred to another prison?"

"No, it's I who am going. Just fancy, I have been appointed head warder
at Poissy; I go on leave to-night, and take up my new post in a week."
Both halted before the door of cell number 127. "In with you," said
Siegenthal, and when Gurn had obeyed he turned to go. Then he wheeled
round again quickly, and put out his hand hurriedly, as if half afraid
of being seen. "Put it there, Gurn," he said; "no doubt you are a
murderer and, as you have confessed yourself, a thief; but I can't
forget that if you had kept straight, you were the sergeant and I should
have had to obey you. I'm sorry for you!" Gurn was touched and murmured
a word of thanks. "That's all right, that's all right," Siegenthal
muttered, not attempting to hide his emotion; "let us hope that
everything will turn out well," and he left Gurn alone in the cell to
his meditations.

Twice, Gurn reflected, relying on the sympathy which he knew he had
evoked in the old warder's heart despite the number of criminals who had
passed through his hands, he had been on the point of broaching a
serious and delicate matter to him; but he had not actually spoken,
being deterred by some undefinable scruple, as well as half suspecting
that his application would be made in vain. And now he was glad he had
been so cautious, for even if the warder had been amenable, his
approaching removal to another prison would have prevented the idea from
coming to fruition.

* * * * *

A sing-song voice echoed in the corridor.

"Number 127, you are wanted in the barristers' room. Get ready," and the
next minute the door of the cell was thrown open, and a cheery-looking
warder, with a strong Gascon accent, appeared. Gurn had noticed him
before: he was the second warder in this division, a man named Nibet,
and no doubt he would be promoted to Siegenthal's place when the chief
warder left. Nibet looked curiously at Gurn, a certain sympathy in his
quick brown eyes. "Ready, Gurn?"

Gurn growled an answer and pulled on his coat again. His counsel was
Maitre Barberoux, one of the foremost criminal barristers of the day;
Gurn had thought it prudent to retain him for his defence, more
especially as it would cost him nothing personally. But