The dungeon smells foul and musty; the darkness is almost visible, the silence oppressive; but the terror of my former experience has abated. I shall probably be kept in the underground cell for a longer time than on the previous occasion,—my offence is considered very grave. Three charges have been entered against me: destroying State property, having possession of a knife, and uttering a threat against the Warden. When I saw the officers gathering at my back, while I was facing the Captain, I realized its significance. They were preparing to assault me. Quickly advancing to the Warden, I shook my fist in his face, crying:
"If they touch me, I'll hold you personally responsible."
He turned pale. Trying to steady his voice, he demanded:
"What do you mean? How dare you?"
"I mean just what I say. I won't be clubbed. My friends will avenge me, too."
He glanced at the guards standing rigid, in ominous silence. One by one they retired, only two remaining, and I was taken quietly to the dungeon.
The stillness is broken by a low, muffled sound. I listen intently. It is some one pacing the cell at the further end of the passage.
"Halloo! Who's there?" I shout.
No reply. The pacing continues. It must be "Silent Nick"; he never talks.