The prison CHAPLAIN has entered. He is a dark-haired, ascetic man, in clerical undress, with a peculiarly steady, tight-lipped face and slow, cultured speech.
THE GOVERNOR. [Holding up the saw] Seen this, Miller?
THE CHAPLAIN. Useful-looking specimen.
THE GOVERNOR. Do for the Museum, eh! [He goes to the cupboard and opens it, displaying to view a number of quaint ropes, hooks, and metal tools with labels tied on them] That'll do, thanks, Mr. Wooder.
WOODER. [Saluting] Thank you, sir. [He goes out]
THE GOVERNOR. Account for the state of the men last day or two, Miller? Seems going through the whole place.
THE CHAPLAIN. No. I don't know of anything.
THE GOVERNOR. By the way, will you dine with us on Christmas Day?
THE CHAPLAIN. To-morrow. Thanks very much.
THE GOVERNOR. Worries me to feel the men discontented. [Gazing at the saw] Have to punish this poor devil. Can't help liking a man who tries to escape. [He places the saw in his pocket and locks the cupboard again]