“No; you're to be let out.”
“Let out? What—to-day? For altogether? Enrico!”
In his excitement Arthur had caught hold of the old man's arm. It was angrily wrenched away.
“Enrico! What has come to you? Why don't you answer? Are we all going to be let out?”
A contemptuous grunt was the only reply.
“Look here!” Arthur again took hold of the warder's arm, laughing. “It is no use for you to be cross to me, because I'm not going to get offended. I want to know about the others.”
“Which others?” growled Enrico, suddenly laying down the shirt he was folding. “Not Bolla, I suppose?”
“Bolla and all the rest, of course. Enrico, what is the matter with you?”
“Well, he's not likely to be let out in a hurry, poor lad, when a comrade has betrayed him. Ugh!” Enrico took up the shirt again in disgust.
“Betrayed him? A comrade? Oh, how dreadful!” Arthur's eyes dilated with horror. Enrico turned quickly round.