“i think pat has left the place. after all his false reports, he will, or perhaps has, felt that he will be discharged, and will go before notice is given.”

“here he comes. well, pat, what do you mean? is that the way you do when trusted with the care of this office? did i not say to you that i had all confidence in you? and now you have given me cause to doubt you in all things.”

“your honor, would you have confidence in me at all if i would sit here and let the prisoners all walk out? just about two minutes ago a lady came to the office and asked to come in. after i opened the door, she just walked right through the office and out of the door. i called to her to halt, and she did not stop, and i made a start for her, and in all my life i never saw a female get the space between her and me as she did.”

“do you mean to tell me that you have let some of the prisoners get away?”

[105]

“i mane to tell you that the lady that came through that door got away—prisoner, or whatever you may call her.”

“pat, i am not going to discharge you now, for i shall have to see what convict it was and what was her sentence here. then i shall be better able to deal with you. i am sorry, pat, that you have proved to be such an untrustworthy guard, and i, as well as mr. pearson, here, have found you to be misrepresenting things all along and causing any amount of trouble. now you may go and do what the last orders gave you to do, and i will take care of my man. if you find any more strange things around here, don’t come to me. i shall not go to investigate another call from you. now go.”

“your honor, i would like to spake a word in my own behalf. i am not as you have expressed yourself that i was, untrustworthy. i will swear to my father in heaven that i have been honest, honest in all my actions, and when i called for help, you were informed right. i gave the correct reports, and i want to say now that if you have that kind of opinion of me, i will lave the prisoners and you may look for another pat. i am not a thafe. if so, i would[106] be wearing the stripes instead of the blue, and i feel i have been misjudged. i hope that you will find out that pat was just what you thought, true and trustworthy, and i will say to you that you had better keep an eye on your fellow-officer, mr. pearson. i feel that he has caused you to form the opinion you have.”

“pat, go and do your duty, and all will work out right by and by.”

“i will, your honor; but whenever you want the club i carry, the same is yours for the asking. i am ready to quit when i am not the gentleman i should be.”

“pearson, have you ever had any trouble with pat?”

“i have not.”

“i believe that you and he have not the best of feeling for each other. can you explain the condition?”

“i have no grievance against pat. i do not understand why he should bring in such alarming reports, reports which on investigation prove to be untrue, absolutely untrue, with no base or foundation whatever, and that is why i am not particularly fond of pat.”

“it is all a very strange affair. during my absence did you have a conversation with convict[107] 78? and what was the object of that conversation? what was your reason for dismissing pat, after he had brought the convict in?”

“i do not remember doing so.”

“i have been informed that you did. there should be no secrets among the officials and the prisoners.”

“i am going to explain. i am the mother of these two boys, and the prisoner 78 and my son pearson, here, are brothers. pearson knows that his brother is an innocent man, but is ashamed to acknowledge his brother. but the prisoner is as innocent as you, who are trying to punish him for a crime he never committed.”

“do you hear that voice, pearson?”

“i do, but from whom does it come? there is no one here that i can see.”

“you will see me,” the voice was heard to say.

“‘i will see you.’ did i hear that? did you get that, officer?”

“i did, and i heard more; i heard the same voice say that you and this man, convict 78, were brothers. did you hear that?”

“i did.”

“well—”

“i am not sure of it. i only know that he carries my name, and his christian name is the[108] same as that of a brother of mine whom i have not heard from in years. he ran away from home when a small boy, and we never heard from him afterward. we thought he was dead, as he never returned or wrote. poor mother grieved herself to her grave for that lost, wayward son. i remained home with her until she died.”

“and the estate—did you advertise for him?”

“my father died when i was a small boy and left mother in good circumstances. i and this brother who left home were the only heirs.”

“and you got the bulk of the estate? did i understand you to say that you advertised for your brother?”

“well, you see, it was this way: not hearing from him for so many years, i decided that he was dead, and i did not think it worth while.”

“you are not sure that this is not your brother, then, mr. pearson?”

“no, i am not sure.”

“well, i will send for him and we perhaps may be able to find out by questioning him. ring for pat.”

just then pat, mumbling, “i will stroll around and see if the supperior officer has[109] changed his mind about me being a gentleman,” appeared.

“here is pat, now.”

“pat, bring in no. 78, at once.”

“whenever the man says ‘pat,’ i know that 78 is wanted. well, if that don’t bate annything! i wonder now what he has done? i know that he has been good the last half-hour, for i have been watching him with my own very eyes, and devil take the one that has lied on him, now. look at the poor fellow! he has the same feeling that i have. every time he sees me coming he knows that he is wanted.

“well, you are wanted at the office, and come along quick, and have it over with. i feel very queer—i feel like i have ate a fly for my breakfast. only a different feeling comes on a fellow so quick when something is going to happen, and you don’t know what it is.

“your honor, do you want him now? if so, here he is.”

“if i did not want him, pat, i should not have sent for him. you may be seated over there.”

“you see, the convict is sometimes treated with poor courtesy. then i—i have not been[110] asked to have a chair,” pat was mumbling to himself.

the officer turned to the prisoner:

“you are enrolled here in the name by which you were christened, are you not?”

“i am, sir.”

“clarence pearson, is that your real name?”

“it is, sir.”

“do you remember anything about your people?”

“i do, sir.”

“tell me all you know about your family, and the number of children, brothers and sisters, and if your parents are living, and where you were born.”

“i was a small boy when i left home, many years ago. my father i don’t remember much about. my poor dear mother has often told me that i was quite young at the time of his death. i have no sisters. i have one brother, who was at home when i left. i have since heard that my dear mother has died. after i heard that, i never had the heart nor courage to go home again.”

“was your mother in comfortable circumstances?”

[111]

“oh, yes, sir! my mother was a wealthy woman.”

“and you will swear that that is your name?”

“i will, sir.”

“pat, you may take him back.”

“you will not close the iron doors behind my child again! he is far more a free man, or should be, than the one sitting there in silence.”

“well, pat, why don’t you take him? he is ready.”

“so am i, but when you tell me to do a thing, and then tell me not to, how in the name of common sense do i know what to do?”

“i have given you only one instruction, and that was to go.”

“well, then, who the devil told me not to take him?”

“did you get such orders?”

“i did.”

“when?”

“just now, and i got more than that.”

“what did you get?”

“i heard a voice—where it came from i don’t see, but my hearing is good—and this is what it said—i will look about me and see that i am not knocked down after i tell what i heard.”

[112]

“go on, and tell what you heard.”

“faith, and i will tell every word of it. i heard—as you finished telling me to take him back—i heard a voice say: ‘the doors will not close behind—’”

“i can’t think what is the matter, pat.”

“i am getting them. i will be a dead man, here, soon, like some of the other ones around here has been. anyway, i didn’t take the man back, did i?”

“pat, you are acting funny. what is the matter with you?”

“come along here! i will lock you up if you are the guilty one.”

“pat, you are not going to take mr. pearson. he has not committed a crime.”

“i say, come along here! you are the thief, to rob your brother of all and then sit and let him suffer.”

“you are going mad, pat. i shall have to call for help if you do not turn officer pearson loose.”

“call for help. all the power you have in this prison could not conquer me.”

“i shall turn in a general alarm if you do not let him go.”

“turn in your alarm. i am ready to fight[113] for my innocent son’s freedom, and you too know that he is not a murderer, yet you sit there and allow him to suffer, and for another’s crime. here is the murdered woman standing here declaring his innocence—and the real murderer is her husband, and you have not made an effort to find him. go look for him. place my innocent boy in a closed room, if you like, but never behind bars. i will free him, as i have done all the time here, if you dare to place him behind bars again!”

“you will fall, pat. sit down. here, steady, now. give me some water quick. have some water, pat. he looks so queer. oh! you feel all right, pat?”

“i am not ailing. why do you ask me if i feel all right? the only thing i see, i was standing up a while ago, and now i am sitting down.”

“yes, pat; you were acting very funny, and insisted on taking officer pearson to jail, instead of no. 78.”

“faith, i think he will be there soon enough.”

“i don’t understand you. i am going to make you suffer for that talk. i shall not allow myself to be called a thief by my inferiors. i shall have a settlement with you, sir. either[114] you or i will leave here, and i think that you will be the one to go.”

“don’t be too sure of that. you may be wearing stripes around here yourself, and i, the common irishman, telling you what to do and throwing the bread and water at you.”

“hey, pat! what do you mean? why are you doing all this talking? are you accountable for what you are saying? i shall have to stop this talk at once. we are not in the habit of allowing our employees to talk in that manner.”

“i think that pat has served his time here. he is beginning to think that he is the boss.”

“well, i’d like to say the same thing about you in regard to serving time, but i don’t think you have started in on your time yet, and when your brother who is sitting here tells all he knows, you will be wearing his clothes and he will be wearing something better, for some of that money belonging to him which you have will enable him to do unto you as you should do unto him—and that is, help when in trouble.”

“pat, i am speaking to you for the last time, and i shall have to discharge you if you do not quiet yourself.”

“you will not discharge him.”

[115]

“well, did you decide what to do? shall i take 78 back?”

“pat, you talk and look and act quite differently now. what was wrong? do tell.”

“i am just the same irishman. do you think i have changed in looks? i hope not, for who ever saw a homely irishman?”

“you did change in looks, but look all right now. put the prisoner in the other office—no. 2. i may need him soon. then you may go.”

“well, mr. pearson, what does all this mean? i don’t understand. but i shall not cease the investigation until i find out what is wrong.”

“you are paying too much attention to what pat has been saying.”

“i am not referring to pat’s sayings. i am asking you, or will do so, to explain about this man bearing the same name and having the same birth-place and the same number in his family as you have told me that you have. your statements were identical, and do you not know that this is your brother? i believe that he is, and why do you not want to acknowledge him, or find out whether he is guilty or innocent?”

“how often, sir, do we meet men who have[116] the same name as ourselves—many time the surname and the christian name are the same. i am under the impression that this is one of those times.”

“and i am very sorry, pearson, but i am thinking that, although it is very unfortunate for you, this is not an accident.”

“i do not understand you, sir.”

“well, then, i will make it plainer. i think that the convict here is your brother, and you know it.”

“you are judging me too harshly. i am not deserving of that opinion from you.”

“you must do something to prove your innocence; otherwise i shall notify the authorities and lay the circumstances before them.”

pearson was silent.

“you have my sympathy, but we should show no partiality in our dealings with our fellow-men. they must be treated fairly. even prisoners must receive justice. i shall leave you to think this matter over, and you may report to me, later, how you feel about the matter.”

“i have nothing to think over and decide on.”

“then you will acknowledge that you are his brother?”

[117]

“i may be, and if i am, i shall only be by birth. i shall never claim a murderer for a brother.”

“you are accusing him wrongfully. he is not a murderer.”

“pearson, for god’s sake, where did that voice come from?”

“i can not tell.”

“then i will show myself.”

“mother, mother, mother! help! help!”

“well, i have stayed away long enough. i think it’s about time they was doing something to the poor convict.” it was pat’s voice, this time. “perhaps i will be needed. i hear a call for help. i may find the whole bunch dead.”

“come quick, pat!”

“what in the ? is the matter, now?”

“i was talking to pearson, and he threw up his hands and cried out, ‘mother!’ three times, and called for help. he has fainted. you had better call a doctor, or go for one; the wires may be busy.”

“yes, i think the wires is crossed at this end, and i am belaving someone will lose his job before they get them straightened, and if it is me, i am willing to go. many a poor devil[118] would be glad to lose his job here. i hope i find the doctor in and not busy. the poor officer may get tired laying in a fit so long.”

“well, pat, you have got another dead man for me to take care of, have you?”

“that is what i came for, and you had better make it lively. the superior officer don’t feel very comfortable over the affair.”

“you mean that i am wanted at the office?”

“and i would not be saying so if you were not wanted.”

“well, pat, i sometimes think that you are like the dutchman. i must take you as you mean, and not as you say.”

“you had better get a move on you, for i mane it.”

“you are walking so fast i can not keep up.”

“indade, he told me to go for you because i go faster than the wires, and i want to keep up my reputation with the boss.”

“you are trying to make a record for yourself, are you?”