“After that, yes,” replied the digger. “I sold the nugget to Zahn for six-pound-ten, and, when next I see it, the Sergeant’s got it. There never was a clearer case. It’s a good thing they’ve got ’im safe in gaol.”
Rose hurried on, feeling that all the town, watching her with unsympathetic eyes, knew well where she was going. But at last she stood before the gate of the wooden prison. After ringing for admittance, she was ushered into a room, bare of furniture save for a pine table and a couple of chairs, where a warder read the Judge’s order, made some entries in a big book, and examined the contents of the basket.
She was next conducted through a species of hall which opened into a small, covered yard, on either side of which stood rows of white-washed, wooden cells.
Unlocking the second cell on the left-hand side, the warder said in a loud voice, as though he were speaking to some one who was either a long way off or very deaf, “Visitor to see you. Stand up, man. ’Tisn’t every day that a pris’ner has a young lady to see him.”
Rose entered the cell, and the door was closed behind her. The walls were white and bare. On a small bench at the further end sat a figure she saw but indistinctly until her eyes became accustomed to the dim light which crept through the grating in the door, against which she could observe the head of the watchful warder who stood inside the cell.
Jack rose slowly to his feet, and stood speechless, with his hand extended.
“I’ve brought you a couple of fowls and some fruit,” said Rose.
“Thank you.” Jack’s voice was very low, and his words came very slowly. “Do you know the crime I’m accused of?”
“Please don’t talk of that,” said Rose. “I know all about it.”
“I wonder you come to see me. No one else does.”