“If the parson ever gets well he will make this a handle to ruin you and me.”
“Me, sir! I only obey orders.”
“That won't save you. If they get the better of me you will suffer along with me.”
“I shouldn't wonder. I told you you were carrying it too far, but you wouldn't listen to me.”
“I was wrong, Fry. I ought to have listened to you, for you are the only one that is faithful to me in the jail.”
“I know my duty, sir, and I try to do it.”
“What are we to do with him, Fry?”
“Well, I don't think he ought to lie on the floor. I'd let him have his bed now, I think.”
“You are right. I'll send for it. Ah! here is Evans. Go for No. 15's bed.”
Evans, standing at the door, had caught but a glimpse of the object that lay on the floor, but that glimpse was enough. He went out and said to Hodges, “Wasn't it you that took Josephs' bed away last night?” The man cowered under the question. “Well, you are to go and fetch it back, the governor says.” Hodges went away for it without a word. Evans returned to the cell. He came and kneeled down by Josephs and laid his hand upon him. “I feared it! I feared it!” said he. “Why he has been dead a long time. Ah! your reverence, why did you come in when I told you not? Poor Josephs is no more, Sir.”