"Other men have been able to stand them," said the warden. "Here is another shirt for you--let me have the one you have on."
"Why?" demanded The Thinking Machine, quickly. His tone was hardly natural, his manner suggested actual perturbation.
"You have attempted to communicate with Dr. Ransome," said the warden severely. "As my prisoner, it is my duty to put a stop to it."
The Thinking Machine was silent for a moment.
"All right," he said, finally. "Do your duty."
The warden smiled grimly. The prisoner arose from the floor and removed the white shirt, putting on instead a striped convict shirt the warden had brought. The warden took the white shirt eagerly, and then and there compared the pieces of linen on which was written the cipher with certain torn places in the shirt. The Thinking Machine looked on curiously.
"The guard brought _you_ those, then?" he asked.
"He certainly did," replied the warden triumphantly. "And that ends your first attempt to escape."
The Thinking Machine watched the warden as he, by comparison, established to his own satisfaction that only two pieces of linen had been torn from the white shirt.
"What did you write this with?" demanded the warden.