Porter: A little noise.
Dr.: Too bad! Too bad! A nasty situation. Looks as if it might be worse before it’s better. What do you think?
Porter: I am here as an inmate, doctor; I am not supposed to have opinions.
Dr.: Humph! Discretion is the better part of valor. Well, have you anything to report to me?
Porter: I took the liberty of sewing up the head of a guard who had a spike thrown at him.
Dr.: Seems a good job; thank you.
Porter: Here is the week’s report. (hands him paper; he takes the paper and examines it. Joe appears at door, left, with empty trash-basket; seeing the doctor he stops, and thus overhears the conversation which follows)
Dr.: By the way, another matter—not a pleasant one. (he goes to the shelf and takes bottle of alcohol) This alcohol continues to disappear.
Porter: I don’t think so, sir.
Dr.: You don’t? (he holds it to the light critically)