Jim wrung Hank’s hand for a minute in silence, and then said: “And just one word more, Hank; tell him not to be poor; don’t let him get married till he’s got money, and can afford it, and don’t let him go in debt. You know I don’t believe I ever would have done it if I hadn’t been so poor.” Hank drew back his hand and stepped to the grated door and looked out along the gloomy iron corridors and down toward the courtyard below. Then he looked up at the tiers of cells filled with the hapless outcasts of the world. On the skylight he could see the faint yellowish glow that told him that the day was about to dawn. The guard got up from his stool and passed him another flask of whiskey. “Here, you’d better get Jim to drink all he can,” he whispered, “for his time is almost up.” Hank took a little sip himself, and then motioned Jim to drink. Jim took the bottle, raised it to his mouth and gulped it down, scarcely stopping to catch his breath. Then he threw the bottle on the bed and sat down on his chair. With the story off his mind it was plain that the whiskey was fast numbing all his nerves. He was not himself when he looked up again. “I guess mebbe I’d better change my clothes, while I have a chance,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else to have to do it for me, and I want to look all right when the thing comes off.” A new guard came up to the door, unlocked it and came in. He nodded to Hank and told him he must go. “His breakfast is just comin’ up and it’s against the rules to have anyone here at the time. The priest will come to see him after he gets through eatin’.” Over in the corridor where Hank had seen the beams and lumber he could hear the murmur of muffled voices, evidently talking about the work. Along the corridor two waiters in white coats were bringing great trays filled with steaming food. Slowly Hank turned to Jim and took his hand. “Well, old fellow,” he said, “I’ve got to go. I see you’re all right, but take that Scotch whiskey when it comes; it won’t do you any hurt. I’ll look after everything just as I said. Good-bye.” Jim seemed hardly to hear Hank’s farewell words. “Well, good-bye.” Hank went outside the door and the guard closed and locked it as he turned away. Then Jim got up from his chair and stumbled to the door. “Hank! Hank! S’pose—you—stop at the—telegraph—office—the Western Union— and the—Postal—all of ‘em—mebbe—might—be somethin’——” “All right,” Hank called back, “I will! I will!—I’ll go to both to make sure if there’s anything there; and I’ll telephone you by the time you’ve got through eatin’.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ BIG BLUE BOOKS =30c= EACH POSTPAID TO ANY ADDRESS