“You should have made a complaint to the Captain.”
“So we did, sir; but it didn’t make any difference. So I just told him that I wouldn’t work any more.”
There is a moment’s pause.
“Well, Brown, this is a very serious offense—refusing to work; and, if you persist in it, I fear you will have to be punished.”
“I can’t help that, sir.”
“Do you still refuse to work?”
“Yes, sir. I shall not work under existing conditions in the shop.”
“Well, Brown; I’m very sorry to punish you; but I have to obey the orders laid down in such cases by those in higher authority than I am. Captain Martin, you will take charge of this man.”
The P. K. takes his departure. Captain Martin leisurely unhooks a large key from a locker behind his chair and saying briefly: “In here, Brown,” opens a solid iron door in the wall. We are in the passage which leads to the death chamber; that terrible spot where those who are adjudged guilty by Society of coldly calculated and brutal murder are by coldly calculated and brutal murder put to death by Society. As if one crime of such nature done by a single man, acting individually, can be expiated by a similar crime done by all men, acting collectively!
We traverse the passage, up to the very door of the death chamber. Here is another iron door on the right. This is unlocked and opened; and we enter the jail.