“You are going to hard labor. No more of this playing off around here.”
“Very well, sir.”
“I don’t think that you need my services any longer,” said the doctor. “The officer seems all right, and he says that he is. I shall return to the hospital.”
“Now, Mr. Pearson,” said the superintendent, “please explain to me—when orders were given to put this man to hard work, you gave him a trusty job.”
“I did the best I could. I am not a heartless man. The poor fellow said he could not do hard manual labor, and I believe he told the truth, and I am willing to give him a trial, for proof of his honesty.”
“You know of all the crimes he has committed while in here, do you not? Or, at least, tried to and failed.”
“In what way, pray tell me?”
“Trying to murder the guards. I, for one, had a peculiar experience with him. Found myself in the hospital—fortunately, not hurt, however, but not able to explain what had happened.”
“Now you will have to work, sir, and I am going to call Pat. I can trust him to see that you do.
“Pat, take this fellow to the booth where they prepare iron for shipping, and see that he works. And I shall assign you, Pat, to take care of him, and him alone. We shall see if this mystery can be cleared up.”