see nothing, not even the dim shapes of the whisperers;
but apparently there are two of them, and they are looking in and
commenting on the disturbance. Their sinister whispering is very
unpleasant. I wonder if they can see what is going on. I feel inclined to
call out and ask them, but I do not know who they are; and I do know that
such an act would be entirely against the rules and liable to provoke
severe punishment, and I am not yet ready to be sent to the jail.

The shouts die down. There are a few more vague and uncertain sounds--all
the more dreadful for being uncertain; somewhere an iron door clangs! then
stillness follows, like that of the grave.

It is useless--I can make nothing of it all; so I sit down again and try
to compose my mind to write, but the effort is not very successful.
Presently, just after the bell at the City Hall has given its eight
o'clock stroke, the Warden appears quietly at the opening of my cell.

"Something has happened," I begin breathlessly, "I don't know what it is,
but it ought to be looked into----"

I come to an abrupt stop, for I am suddenly aware of the figure of a man
standing in the shadow just behind the Warden.

"Who is that?" I ask, and he steps farther along the gallery, but not
where the light from the cell can strike him.

"Only the night officer," answers the Warden.

That is all very well; but why was the night officer lurking in the dark
behind the Warden? I decide to ask him a plain, direct question; for he
has already heard what is uppermost in my mind.

"Captain," I say, politely, "what was that noise I heard a short while
ago?"

The officer, pretending that he has not heard my question, turns to the
Warden with some perfectly irrelevant remark, and moves off, along the
gallery.

It strikes me as a curious proceeding.

"Warden," I begin again, after waiting until the man must be out of
hearing, "I heard shouting off in the corridor somewhere, not very long
ago; and I am afraid something bad has happened. Would it not be well to
find out about it?"

This the Warden promises to do, so I stifle my fears as best I can and
turn to the events of the day. I report progress; and we again debate
whether or not I had better make a change of occupation. Last evening we
decided that I should remain still another day in the basket-shop; for it
seemed as if I were getting as much out of my experience there as I could
anywhere. The Warden is inclined to agree with