lon's hand and expressed much gratification at having
met him; then the two followed the guard out into the courtyard and into
the gloomy corridors of the jail. There was a stale, confined smell in
the place; a chill was in the air--the sort of thing that comes from
continued damp. The blank steel doors with their rows of rivet heads,
and the criminal history of the cell's inhabitant hanging beside them on
a neat card, oppressed Bat.

"There is a movement on foot to do away with capital punishment," said
he, to Ashton-Kirk. "What makes them think life imprisonment isn't as
bad?"

The investigator shrugged his shoulders.

"They _don't_ think that," said he. "They merely present the
indisputable fact that a legal murder cannot in any way make amends for
an illegal one. When that is acted upon, I'm of the opinion that the
jailing of men will get more attention."

The guard was a heavy-faced man, who walked with a limp. He had
overheard these remarks, and now spoke.

"We hear lots of things like that," said he, resentfully. "People come
here in gangs sometimes and talk their heads off, pitying men who can be
handled only when they're locked up. If sheep could talk they'd say
things just like these people; and these people, if the criminals
weren't jailed, would be just as helpless among them as the sheep."

Bat Scanlon looked somewhat impressed.

"You've said something," said he, with a shake of the head, "but you
haven't said it all."

"There was a woman here this morning," said the guard. "Was also in to
see this fellow, Burton," as an afterthought. "And she talked that
stuff, too."

"Came to see Burton, did she?" Ashton-Kirk looked interested. "Who was
she?"

"Some kind of a relative, I think. It was Miss Cavanaugh, the actress."

Just then they came to a cell before which the guard stopped.

"Here you are," said he. "This is the man you want."

There was a shooting of bolts and the pressure of an opening door. The
inner door was of close bars; they saw a narrow cell with unrelieved
walls and a grated opening through which came a small trickle of
daylight. A figure arose from the cot at the far end and stood looking
uncertainly at the doorway.

"Want to go inside?" asked the guard. "The warden said it'd be all
right."

"Thanks," said Ashton-Kirk; "if you please."

The barred door was unlocked and opened; the two entered, and stood face
to face with young Burton.

"How are you?" said Scanlon, holdin