"'But I will resist their machinations. I will confound them. I will probe the mystery to the bottom. I am Jean Antoine——'
"'It is possible—we have no information. But here is the prison.'
"Resistance was out of the question. It seemed likely, indeed, that I should be safer in the prison than outside it. There, at least, I might find some intelligent person who would listen to my explanation; there, at least, I should have respite from the attentions of the Camorra, and a plain answer to a civil question.
"Patience!" I said to myself, as the great gate clanged behind me; and it soon became evident that I should have need of patience. For this Neapolitan prison was quite different from any other prison that I had ever been confined in.
"There was no ceremonious reception of new-comers by the authorities; they did not even trouble to ask who one was.
"There was no privacy. Separate cells were only provided for prisoners condemned to death—a heavy price to pay for such a privilege. For the rest, the inmates were herded together in great courtyards, with no distinction between those convicted and those awaiting trial, and no one, so far as I could see, to supervise their conduct. It was, as it were, a republic of evil-doers in which I was turned loose to take my chance and find my level.
"'There are your quarters. Soup and macaroni are served out twice daily. The other prisoners will tell you where you can sleep,' said the gaoler curtly.
"'But I demand to know——' I protested.
"'Silence! Don't bother me with your foolish questions,' he replied, and slammed a door and disappeared.
"So I got no satisfaction from him, and my heart sank within me. A period of ennui—a term of weary waiting, with discomfort but without excitement—that seemed to be the fate in store for me. But once more—so far, at least, as the excitement was concerned—I was mistaken. A fellow prisoner provided me with immediate excitement.