THE DOCTOR. Well, I don't think the separates doing him any good; but then I could say the same of a lot of them—they'd get on better in the shops, there's no doubt.
THE GOVERNOR. You mean you'd have to recommend others?
THE DOCTOR. A dozen at least. It's on his nerves. There's nothing tangible. That fellow there [pointing to O'CLEARY'S cell], for instance—feels it just as much, in his way. If I once get away from physical facts—I shan't know where I am. Conscientiously, sir, I don't know how to differentiate him. He hasn't lost weight. Nothing wrong with his eyes. His pulse is good. Talks all right.
THE GOVERNOR. It doesn't amount to melancholia?
THE DOCTOR. [Shaking his head] I can report on him if you like; but if I do I ought to report on others.
THE GOVERNOR. I see. [Looking towards FALDER'S cell] The poor devil must just stick it then.
As he says thin he looks absently at WOODER.
WOODER. Beg pardon, sir?
For answer the GOVERNOR stares at him, turns on his heel, and walks away. There is a sound as of beating on metal.
THE GOVERNOR. [Stopping] Mr. Wooder?