"An author!" I said. "You an author, Major Shrike!"
To my surprise, he snapped round upon me with something like a glare of
fury on his face. This the more startled me as I believed I had reason to
regard him as a man whose principles of conduct had long disciplined a
temper that was naturally hasty enough.
Before I could speak to explain, he had come hurriedly across the room
and had rudely snatched the paper out of my hand.
"How did this get--" he began; then in a moment came to himself, and
apologized for his ill manners.
"I thought every scrap of the stuff had been destroyed", he said, and
tore the page into fragments. "It is an ancient effusion, doctor--perhaps
the greatest folly of my life; but it's something of a sore subject with
me, and I shall be obliged if you'll not refer to it again."
He courted my forgiveness so frankly that the matter passed without
embarrassment; and we had our game and spent a genial evening together.
But memory of the queer little scene stuck in my mind, and I could not
forbear pondering it fitfully.
Surely here was a new side-light that played upon my friend and superior
a little fantastically.
* * * * *
Conscious of a certain vague wonder in my mind, I was traversing the
prison, lost in thought, after my sociable evening with the Governor,
when the fact that dim light was issuing from the open door of cell
number 49 brought me to myself and to a pause in the corridor outside.
Then I saw that something was wrong with the cell's inmate, and that my
services were required.
The medium was struggling on the floor, in what looked like an epileptic
fit, and Johnson and another warder were holding him from doing an injury
to himself.
The younger man welcomed my appearance with relief.
"Heerd him guggling," he said, "and thought as something were up. You
come timely, sir."
More assistance was procured, and I ordered the prisoner's removal to the
infirmary. For a minute, before following him, I was left alone with
Johnson.
"It came to a climax, then?" I said, looking the man steadily in the
face.
"He may be subject to 'em, sir", he replied, evasively.
I walked deliberately up to the closed door of the adjoining cell, which
was the last on that side of the corridor. Huddled against the massive
end wall, and half imbedded in it, as it seemed, it lay in a certain
shadow, and bore every sign of dust and disuse. Looking closely, I saw
that the trap in the door was not only firmly bolted, but _screwed into
its socket_.