"Is Heartall sick?" was his question.
"No," replied the turnkey.
"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?"
"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another ward."
The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked, that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle, trembled a little. He again asked, calmly,
"Whose order was this?"
The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's."
The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint.
The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall.
That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He passed.