"You've lost the thread of our conversation, as usual, Red. You said the Warden sent for the Carnegie lawyers after Gallagher had recanted his original confession. Well, what did they do?"
"Don't know what they done, but I tole you that the muttonhead sent for th' district attorney the same day, an' signed a third confesh. Why, Dempsey was tickled to death, 'cause—"
He ceases abruptly. His quick, short coughs warn me of danger. Accompanied by the Deputy and the shop officer, the Warden is making the rounds of the machines, pausing here and there to examine the work, and listen to the request of a prisoner. The youthfully sparkling eyes present a striking contrast to the sedate manner and seamed features framed in grayish-white. Approaching the table, he greets us with a benign smile:
Casting a glance at my assistant, the Warden inquires: "Your time must be up soon, Red?"
"Been out and back again, Cap'n," the officer laughs.
"Yes, he is, hm, hm, back home." The thin feminine accents of the Deputy sound sarcastic.
"Didn't like it outside, Red?" the Warden sneers.
A flush darkens the face of the assistant. "There's more skunks out than in," he retorts.
The Captain frowns. The Deputy lifts a warning finger, but the Warden laughs lightly, and continues on his rounds.