The convict laughed a hard laugh, and turned to the warders. "Here, take me away--I've had enough of this." "Listen. I have something to say to you--something to do for you, too." The convict broke afresh into a laugh. "Take me away, will you?" "What if I say I am sorry for the past?" said Hugh. "Then you are a hypocrite!" the convict answered. Hugh Ritson drew himself up, and took his breath audibly. In one swift instant his face became discolored and his features pinched and rigid. There was silence, and then in a low, broken tone, he said: "Paul, you know well what sort of a man I am; don't drive me too hard. I have come here to do you a service. Remember your sufferings--" Once again the convict broke into a cold laugh. "Remember that others--one other--may be suffering with you." The convict's haughty look fled like a flash of light. "Here, take me out of this," he muttered in a low, hoarse voice. He took a step back, but the guard closed around him. "I won't stand to listen to this man. Do you hear? I won't listen," he said hotly; "he has come to torture me--that's all!" "I have come to undo what I have done," said Hugh. "Paul, let me undo it. Don't rouse the bad part of me at this crisis of your life and mine." The convict paused, and said more quietly: "Then it's your policy to undo it." Hugh Ritson flinched. The words had gone to his heart like a spear. If he had dared to mask his motive, that thrust would have left it naked. "I will not wrong the truth by saying I am a changed man," he answered meekly. "My motive is my own; but my act shall be all in all to you." The convict's face lightened. "You have used me for your vengeance," he said; "you shall not use me for your contrition also. Guards, let me out--let me out, I tell you!" The governor interposed: "When you leave this room you go direct to the cells." "Ay, take me to your cells, and let me lie there and die and rot," said the convict. "Take him away," said the governor. "Paul, I beseech you to hear me!" cried Hugh, amid the clanking of the arms of the guard. "Take him away!" the governor shouted again. An hour after, B 2001 was recalled to the receiving-office. He was quiet enough now. "We have an order respecting you from the Secretary of State," said the governor. "You are required to give evidence at a trial. At two o'clock you leave Portland for Cumberland, and your guard goes with you." The convict bent his head and went out in silence. CHAPTER XV. Paul Ritson--let him be known by his official number no more--was not taken to the punishment cells. He was set to work with the stone-dressing gang stationed near the gate of the prison. The news of his attempt to escape had not spread more rapidly than rumors of his approaching departure. "I say," shouted a hoary convict, "take a crooked message out?" "What's your message?" "On'y a word to the old girl telling her where she'll find a bunch of keys as she wants partic'lar."