WOODER. All right, sir.
THE GOVERNOR nods. The door is closed and locked.
THE GOVERNOR. Which is the man who banged on his door this morning?
WOODER. [Going towards O'CLEARY'S cell] This one, sir; O'Cleary.
He lifts the disc and glances through the peephole.
THE GOVERNOR. Open.
WOODER throws open the door. O'CLEARY, who is seated at a little table by the door as if listening, springs up and stands at attention jest inside the doorway. He is a broad-faced, middle-aged man, with a wide, thin, flexible mouth, and little holes under his high cheek-bones.
THE GOVERNOR. Where's the joke, O'Cleary?
O'CLEARY. The joke, your honour? I've not seen one for a long time.
THE GOVERNOR. Banging on your door?