He was left to himself in a cell even smaller than the one occupied by Robertson, while the bars of its window were more massive. It was sparsely lighted by a lamp suspended from the ceiling, but far out of reach, and the window also was set a good yard beyond the thick bars inside. There was not a stick of furniture of any kind. Wallion tried the door; it was of solid oak, with a lock impossible to negotiate from the inside.
"A regular prison cell," growled Wallion. "I wonder for whom it was originally intended."
He tried to look out, but the darkness outside prevented him from seeing anything, and he could not extinguish the lamp. He hoped most sincerely that Tom Murner would return to town and give information to the police that he had mysteriously disappeared, but presently, with silent scorn for his weakness, he remembered that he had not given Tom any instructions in case of such a contingency.
He heard footsteps and voices, both within and without, and realized that his last hope was gone.... He heard Tom Murner's voice in the entrance hall. He could not catch his words distinctly, but he heard the Doctor reply, "Yes, he is here. Do come in, you are very welcome, Mr. Murner."
Tom's voice seemed to draw near and sounded somewhat suspicious.
"Can I speak to him at once?" he said.
"Yes, of course.... This way, please."
The steps came nearer and Tom asked from outside, "Is Wallion here?"
"Yes, here he is, you need only walk in."
The door of the cell was opened, Tom was roughly pushed in, then it was slammed to again and sounds of loud, derisive laughter came from the hall. Tom picked himself up half-dazed. "You, too?" he said, lamely. Wallion made a wry face—he no longer felt any inclination to smile—and merely said: "As you see."