He took the minister's arm in his and they walked back to the prison hall. There was a surplice to be shed, devotional books to be packed in a little black bag. The condemned cell was being turned out by two men in convict's garb. One was using a broom, sweeping with long, leisurely strokes, and his face had a suggestion of sadness. The other was carrying out the remainder of the bedding and washing the utensils which the dead man had used. All this Ronald noticed with a curiously detached interest. Shepherded back again to the governor's office, there was a form to be signed, testifying that he had witnessed the execution which had been carried out in a proper and decorous manner. Ronald took the pen and hesitated a second before he signed. The appearance of his signature on paper interested him--it was unfamiliar. "You've seen these executions before, Mr. Morelle?" said the under-sheriff. "Oh, yes," said Ronald quietly. "I do not think I shall come again. The waste of it, the malice of it!" "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth," said the under-sheriff gruffly and Ronald smiled sadly. "The Old Testament is excellent as literature but in parts diabolical as a code of morals," he said, and went through the porter's lodge to the world. There was a small crowd, some twenty or thirty people grouped at a distance from the gate. Their interest was concentrated upon the kneeling figure that confronted Ronnie as he walked out of the lodge. "He comes here every time we have a hanging," said the gateman in Ronnie's ear. It was the thin man in the threadbare coat; he knelt bareheaded, his blue hands clasped, his voice hoarse with a cold. "--let him be the child of Thy mercies--pardon, we beseech Thee, O Lord our God, this our brother who comes before Thy seat of Judgment--" Ronnie listened to the husky voice. Presently and with a final supplication, the man got up and dusted his knees. "For whom are you praying?" asked Ronnie gently. "For Ambrose Sault, brother," answered the man. "For Ambrose Sault?" repeated Ronnie absently, "that is very sweet." He looked thoughtfully at the man and then walked away. Following the Common road that would have taken him to Wechester, he heard a car coming behind him and presently the glittering bonnet moved past him and stopped. "Excuse me, sir." Ronnie looked round. He did not know the chauffeur who was touching his cap. And yet he had seen his face. "I thought you may have missed the car--I had to park away from the prison." Of course! He breathed a heavy sigh as the problem was solved. It was his own car and the chauffeur's name was Parker. "I haven't the slightest idea where I was going," he laughed. "You look cold, Parker. We had better stop in Wechester and get breakfast." Parker could only gape. "Yes, sir," he stammered, "but don't worry about me, sir. I shall be all right."