The surgeon acquiesced according to custom.
It was not for him to contradict Hawes, who allowed him to attend the jail or neglect it, according to his convenience, i. e., to come three or four times a week at different hours, instead of twice every day at fixed hours.
It was two days after this that the governor saw Hodges come out of a cell laughing.
“What are ye grinning at?” said he, in his amiable way.
“No. 19 is light-headed, sir, and I have been listening to him. It would make a cat laugh,” said Hodges apologetically. He knew well enough the governor did not approve of laughing in the jail.
The governor said nothing, but made a motion with his hand, and Hodges opened cell 19 and they both went in.
No. 19 lay on his back flushed and restless with his eyes fixed on vacancy. He was talking incessantly and without sequence. I should fail signally were I to attempt to transfer his words to paper. I feel my weakness and the strength of others who in my day have shown a singular power of fixing on paper the volatile particles of frenzy; however, in a word, the poor thief was talking as our poetasters write, and amid his gunpowder, daffodils, bosh and other constellations there mingled gleams of sense and feeling that would have made you and me very sad.
He often recurred to a girl he called Mary, and said a few gentle words to her; then off again into the wildest flights. While Mr. Hawes and his myrmidons were laughing at him, he suddenly fixed his eyes on some imaginary figure on the opposite wall and began to cry out loudly, “Take him down. Don't you see you are killing him? The collar is choking him! See how White he is! His eyes stare! The boy will die! Murder! murder! murder! I can't bear to see him die.” And with these words he buried his head in the bedclothes.
Mr. Hawes looked at Mr. Fry; Mr. Fry answered the look. “He must have seen Josephs the other day.”
“Ay! he is mighty curious. Well, when he gets well!” and, shaking his fist at the sufferer, Mr. Hawes went out of the cell soon after.