“The hell-hounds!––they thought I didn’t tumble to their little game.”
He stopped again, closing his mouth tightly as if inquiring of himself why he should be telling this young lady so much.
“Please––please go on,” Eileen pleaded, divining his thoughts.
“Why?” he asked bluntly, surveying the slight, lissom figure before him.
“Oh, because––because I am interested. I am so sorry for you and for so many others like you,” she said.
“Well!––I served my full time––five years––three years with 365 days each and two leap years with an extra day in them,––1,827 days and nights, 43,848 hours; 2,630,880 minutes; 157,852,800 second strokes on the 25 clock. You see I remember it all. Great God, how I used to figure it out!
“Eight days ago my time was up. I asked them regarding my release. And simply because I inquired instead of waiting their good pleasure, they told me I had two weeks more to serve. The damnable lie! As if I didn’t know, as if every jailbird doesn’t know the day and the very minute his release is due!
“Two weeks more!” he went on, his face flushed with indignation and his breath coming in short jerks.
The clock on Eileen’s mantelshelf struck midnight, slowly and clearly.
The convict looked at it and gasped. When it stopped striking, he turned to Eileen and his eyes twinkled for a second.