On his way downstairs he was called into the warden's office, and while there he was severely reprimanded for conveying letters to the convict, and forbidden under pain of punishment to repeat the offense. The old man bore the rebuke very patiently, and at the lecture that was bestowed upon him he humbly bowed and took his leave. This night the viscount, exhausted by long vigilance and fasting and by intense anxiety, threw himself upon his bed and slept for a few hours. The next morning, Saturday, in his restless trouble he arose early. And in the course of the day he questioned everyone who came into his cell concerning the state of mind of the condemned man. Some could give him no news at all; others could tell him something; but they differed in their accounts of Frisbie--one saying that he had asked for the prison chaplain, who had gone in to him; a second that he was very contrite; a third that he was only terribly frightened; a fourth that he was as firm as a rock, declined to confess his guilt and persisted in declaring his innocence. The viscount endeavored to believe the last statement. The miserable day passed without bringing anything more satisfactory to Lord Vincent. And the night that followed was a sleepless one to him. Sunday came; the last day of life that was left to the wretched valet. On Sunday it was obligatory upon all the prisoners confined in that jail to attend divine service in the prison chapel. They had no choice in this matter; unless they were confined to their beds by illness they were obliged to go. On this particular Sunday no prisoner felt disposed to place himself on the sick list. Quite the contrary. For, on the other hand, many prisoners who were really ill, in the infirmary, declared themselves well enough to get up and go to chapel. The reason of their sudden zeal in the performance of their religious duties was simply this: The "condemned sermon," as it was called, was to be preached that day. And the condemned man, who was to be executed in the morning, was to be present under guard. And people generally have a morbid curiosity to gaze upon a man who is doomed to death. Lord Vincent was ill enough to be exempt from the duty of appearing in the chapel, and haughty enough to recoil from mixing publicly with his fellow-prisoners; but he was intensely anxious to see Frisbie and judge for himself, from the man's appearance, whether he seemed likely to make a confession. And so, when the turnkey whose duty it was to attend to this ward came around to unlock the doors and marshal the prisoners in order to march them to the chapel, Lord Vincent, without demur, fell into rank and went with them. The chapel was small, and the prisoners present on this day filled it full. The set to which Lord Vincent belonged were marched in among the last. Consequently they sat at the lower end of the chapel.