"It is no laughing matter." The chaplain's tone was cool and collected--more impressive than it was used to be. "The man whose name I believe is Oliver Mankell has bewitched me. He was the second man in the third row on my right-hand side in chapel. I could make out that his number was B 27. He cast on me a spell."
There was silence. Even the inspector felt that it was a delicate matter to accuse the chaplain outright of lunacy. An interruption came from an unexpected quarter--from the chief warder.
"It's my belief that man Mankell's been up to his games about those cells."
The interruption was the more remarkable, because there was generally war--not always passive--between the chief warder and the chaplain. Every one looked at Mr. Murray.
"What is this I hear about the cells?" asked Dr. Livermore.
The governor answered:
"Yesterday the men were all locked in their night-cells. This morning they were all locked out--that is, we found them all seemingly fast asleep, each man in front of his cell-door."
"They were all locked in except one man, and that man was Mankell--and he was the only man who was not locked out." Thus the chief warder.
"And do you suggest," said the doctor, "that he had a finger in the pie?"
"It's my belief he did it all. Directly I set eyes upon the man I knew there was something about him I couldn't quite make out. He did it all! Have you heard, sir, how he came to the gate?"