In a few minutes the Warden returns, motioning to the guard to leave.
"I have just been informed that the Board has refused you a hearing."
I feel the cold perspiration running down my back. The prison rumors of the Warden's interference flash through my mind. The Board promised a rehearing at the previous application,—why this refusal?
"Warden," I exclaim, "you objected to my pardon!"
"Such action lies with the Inspectors," he replies evasively. The peculiar intonation strengthens my suspicions.
A feeling of hopelessness possesses me. I sense the Warden's gaze fastened on me, and I strive to control my emotion.
"How much time have you yet?" he asks.
"Over eleven years."
"How long have you been locked up this time?"
"Sixteen months."