le at a distance of four yards from each other,
walking rapidly on serpentine white lines marked on the concrete
floor of the yard. Two warders in blue uniforms, with peaked
caps and swords, are stationed amongst them. The room has
distempered walls, a bookcase with numerous official-looking
books, a cupboard between the windows, a plan of the prison on
the wall, a writing-table covered with documents. It is
Christmas Eve.

The GOVERNOR, a neat, grave-looking man, with a trim, fair
moustache, the eyes of a theorist, and grizzled hair, receding
from the temples, is standing close to this writing-table
looking at a sort of rough saw made out of a piece of metal.
The hand in which he holds it is gloved, for two fingers
are missing. The chief warder, WOODER, a tall, thin,
military-looking man of sixty, with grey moustache and
melancholy, monkey-like eyes, stands very upright two paces
from him.

THE GOVERNOR. [With a faint, abstracted smile] Queer-looking
affair, Mr. Wooder! Where did you find it?

WOODER. In his mattress, sir. Haven't come across such a thing for
two years now.

THE GOVERNOR. [With curiosity] Had he any set plan?

WOODER. He'd sawed his window-bar about that much. [He holds up his
thumb and finger a quarter of an inch apart]

THE GOVERNOR. I'll see him this afternoon. What's his name?
Moaney! An old hand, I think?

WOODER. Yes, sir-fourth spell of penal. You'd think an old lag like
him would have had more sense by now. [With pitying contempt]
Occupied his mind, he said. Breaking in and breaking out--that's all
they think about.

THE GOVERNOR. Who's next him?

WOODER. O'Cleary, sir.

THE GOVERNOR. The Irishman.

WOODER. Next him again there's that young fellow, Falder--star
class--and next him old Clipton.

THE GOVERNOR. Ah, yes! "The philosopher." I want to see him about
his eyes.

WOODER. Curious thing, sir: they seem to know when there's one of
these tries at escape going on. It makes them restive--there's a
regular wave going through them just now.

THE GOVERNOR. [Meditatively] Odd things--those waves. [Turning to
look at the prisoners exercising] Seem quiet enough out here!

WOODER. That Irishman, O'Cleary, began banging on his door this
morning. Little thing like that's quite enough to upset the whole
lot. They're just like dumb animals at times.

THE GOVERNOR. I'