“I’m goin’ to do better for you while you’re here. Though I guess you’ll soon be sent along to the city jail. I’ve permission for you to come right across to my quarters where you and me can talk freely. If you feel like giving your word to make no breaks you won’t be worried with troublesome precautions. Feel that way?”
The Wolf’s smile broadened.
“You don’t have to worry, Sergeant,” he replied simply.
Fyles inclined his head and moved away. The Wolf was beside him. And as they passed down the guardroom passage it needed no special understanding to tell the prisoner that the man beside him had ample means to his hand for his safeguarding.
But the Wolf had no intention of making any trouble; only was he speculating. He was wondering what purpose the policeman had in the unexpected invitation.
They passed from the guardroom into the biting winter air. The Wolf breathed deeply. He drew great gusts of Nature’s purity into yearning lungs. And as he did so his thought bridged the years.
His mind swept back to the old mountain life. That time when the whole horizon of his budding manhood was bounded by the smile or frown of an impish child whose best delight was his unceasing torment.
Fyles was watching him closely. And his watch was mainly that of the student. But the Wolf wore impenetrable armor. Fyles had to content himself with a picture of splendid manhood that betrayed not a sign of the anxiety or fear which the hideous position confronting his prisoner should have inspired.
They exchanged no word until Fyles’ quarters were reached. Then the Wolf was quietly shepherded across to the neatly arranged bed-cot, which occupied one end of the room across the whole length of the far wall.
The prisoner submitted readily. He sat on the comparative luxury of the neatly spread blankets and watched while Fyles possessed himself of the chair at the desk. The Wolf realized that the other was seated directly between him and the only exit from the room.