"He's croaked!" answered the deputy warden. "We found him dead in his cell half an hour ago."
CHAPTER XIV
THE HIDDEN WIRES
Donovan looked at the deputy as if about to dispute the statement. The detective even opened his lips to speak, but no sound came through them. Donovan sat down in a chair.
"Do you mean—" he asked, passing his hand over his face, as though to brush away unseen cobwebs. "Do you mean that he's dead?"
"Sure," was the answer. "Croaked, I told you. Deader 'n a burned out cigarette."
"Well," observed Donovan dispassionately, "that's the limit!"
"I agree with you," said the colonel, and there was a curious look on his face. "Though if you mean it's the end I beg to differ. It's only the beginning."
"How'd it happen?" asked Donovan sharply.
"We don't know," was the answer. "The Dago was all right to-day, except he seemed a little glummer than usual. He didn't eat any supper though but that's nothing. Lots of times the birds in here get off their feed," and the deputy warden made a comprehensive gesture.