"However," Halloran raised his voice, "I'd like to remind you fellows that a successful community needs ... _families_!" There was a long quiet, then, broken finally by an inmate who asked, "Warden, how about the guys up on the Row?" "Well," Halloran's voice lost all humor, "you can start ripping out the gas chamber whenever you're ready to. I'll see that you get the tools." The swell of applause was so loud in the office that Court hastily turned down the speaker's volume. "All right," Halloran said when they had quieted down, "that's about it. You're free now, till supper-time. I'd suggest all of you start right now, thinking about your future--" * * * * * Outside the main gate, first Knox, then Lansing shook hands with the gray-faced warden. "Trucks'll be in town at seven for your people," Knox muttered. He gave a windy sigh. "It's all fouled up. As usual. Damn it, we need people like you, sir!" Lansing looked at Halloran for a long time, trying to see behind the mask of exhaustion. "I'm a mannerless fool," he said at last. "But Mr. Halloran, would you tell me what you're thinking? I mean, really thinking? Even if it's rough on us!" Halloran laughed softly. "I wasn't thinking about you at all, Dr. Lansing. I was--and am--regretting that what I told the men couldn't be the truth. It's too bad they'll have so short a time. It would be very interesting to see what they would do with--_life_." Knox scowled. "Seems like they haven't done much with it so far." "Come along, general," Lansing said quietly. "You don't understand. None of us do. We never did." THE END End of Project Gutenberg's Criminal Negligence, by Jesse Francis McComas