“No, no! It's this. I thought I'd write a letter to Al, and you'd give it to him afterwards, a year afterwards--supposing--you see?” He hesitated pitifully. “All right, I'll do that.” “I won't write it now.” “I see.” “You'll keep it still? You won't tell? You won't get a grudge against Al? If you do! No. I know about you. You won't tell.” “No, I won't. Well, good-night, then.” “Good-night.” His voice was husky and weak now. He put out his hand, hesitating. Hennion took it promptly. It felt like a wet, withered leaf. Hennion went and knocked at the door, which Sweeney opened. Hicks sat still by the table, looking down, straggling locks of his black hair plastered wet against his white forehead, his finger nails scratching the boards. The door clanged to, and the noise echoed in the corridor. “I heerd him gettin' some excited,” said the jailor. “Some.” “Think he's crazy?” “That's for the court to say.” “Ain't crazier'n this old jail. I need a new one bad, Mr. Hennion. Look at them windows! I seen mighty clever boys here. A sharp one could dig out here some night, if he had the tools.” “Then you'd better not suggest it to Hicks.” “Ho! He ain't thinkin' of it. He's a weakly man.” “No, probably not.” “He ain't got the tools, either. I know the business. Look at the experience I've had! But I need a new jail, Mr. Hennion, bad, as I told Mr. Wood.” “Better write out a statement of the case. Good-night. Much obliged for your trouble.” The jailor talked busily till they came to the outer door. Hennion broke away, and left him in the doorway smoking his short pipe. He came presently to sit in the tall Champ-ney library, and heard Henry Champney speaking in that tone and accent which made an ordinary remark sound like one of the Ten Commandments. Camilla was silent. “Do you then, ha! cross the Rubicon?” Champney asked. “Wood's organisation, sir? Carroll and the city jailor both seem to think it a foregone conclusion. Sweeney thinks if one of his 'boys' had a crowbar, or chisel, or a pair of tongs, he'd return to the community; so he wants a new jail, thinking it might include a new salary.” CHAPTER X--MACCLESFIELD'S BRIDGE