“Probably because no other violin has been to any other man what this has been to me.”
But he did not take the proffered hand and, with a bow that would have graced a drawing-room rather than a cell, clasped his instrument closely and quietly moved away.
Kate was inured to prison sights, yet even she was touched by this little by-play, though she reproved her too warm-hearted brother.
“Your generosity does you credit, dear, but we never shake the hand of a prisoner, except when he is leaving. Not always then.”
“Kate, wait a minute. Tell me all about that man. I thought the prisoners were kept under lock and key. I thought—— Oh! it’s so awful, so incredible.”
“Why, Adrian! How foolish. Your artistic temperament, I suppose, and you cannot help it. No. They are by no means always kept so close. This one is a ‘trusty.’ So were all the orchestra. So are all whom you see about the house or grounds. This man is the model for the whole prison. He is worth more, in keeping order, than a hundred keepers. His influence is something wonderful, and his life is a living sermon. His repentance is unmistakably sincere, and his conduct will materially shorten his term, yet it will be a dark day for the institution when he leaves it. I cannot help but like him and trust him; and yet—— Dear, dear! I must not loiter here. I must get back to my guests.”
“Wait, wait. There’s something I want to ask you. To tell you, too. Do you know who that man is?”
Kate shivered.
“Do I not? Oh! Adrian, though I have brought myself to look upon him so indulgently now, it was not so at first. Then I hated the sight of his face, and could scarcely breathe in the room where he was. He is under life-sentence for manslaughter and—I wonder if I ought to tell you! But I must. The situation is so dramatic, so unprecedented. The man whom Number 526 tried to kill, and whom he robbed of many thousands, was—our own father!”