Mankell entered, the constable upon his shoulder. Having entered, he carefully placed the constable in a sitting posture on the stones, with his back against the wall. The policeman's helmet had tipped over his eyes--he scarcely presented an imposing picture of the majesty and might of the law. The warder shook him by the shoulder. "Here, come--wake up. You're a pretty sort," he said. The constable's reply, although slightly inarticulate, was yet sufficiently distinct. "Not another drop!" he murmured. "No, I shouldn't think so," said the warder. "You've had a pailful, it seems to me, already." The man seemed a little puzzled. He turned and looked at Mankell. "What do you want here?" "Three months' hard labour." The man looked down and saw that the new-comer had gyves upon his wrists. He went to a door at one side, and summoned another warder. The two returned together. This second official took in the situation at a glance. "Have you come from----?" naming the town from which they in fact had come. Mankell inclined his head. This second official turned his attention to the prostrate constable. "Look in his pockets." The janitor acted on the suggestion. The order for committal was produced. "Are you Oliver Mankell?" Again Mankell inclined his head. With the order in his hand, the official marched him through the side-door by which he had himself appeared. Soon Oliver Mankell was the inmate of a cell. He spent that night in the reception-cells at the gate. In the morning he had a bath, was inducted into prison clothing, and examined by the doctor. He was then taken up to the main building of the prison, and introduced to the governor. The governor was a quiet, gentlemanly man, with a straggling black beard and spectacles--the official to the tips of his fingers. As Mankell happened to be the only fresh arrival, the governor favoured him with a little speech. "You've placed yourself in an uncomfortable position, Mankell. I hope you'll obey the rules while you're here." "I intend to act upon the advice tendered me by the magistrate who passed sentence." The governor looked up. Not only was the voice a musical voice, but the words were not the sort of words generally chosen by the average prisoner. "What advice was that?" "He said that I claimed to be a magician. He strongly advised me to prove it during my stay in jail. I intend to act upon the advice he tendered." The governor looked Mankell steadily in the face. The speaker's bearing conveyed no suggestion of insolent intention. The governor looked down again. "I advise you to be careful what you do. You may make your position more uncomfortable than it is already. Take the man away."