Aloud: “Come along here! Back to your resting-place. Indade, that is all you have done lately—rest.” The acting superintendent mused: “Now that Clarence is going to deny his name, I can see my way out of this. I shall not take my vacation now. I must stay and see this thing through. So my superior officer has written to where the murder was committed and asked for a wire in answer. And we may look for one to-morrow, as the letter went out on the early train. It will be received in the morning, and a wire will be received some time in the evening.” “Well, ‘fellow,’ here is your place to rest till I come for you, and you may look for me soon, at that,” remarked Pat as he placed the prisoner in his cell. CHAPTER XIV. THE CONVICT’S PRAYER. As the superintendent entered the office on his return he said to Pearson: “I am back. I have been looking up some of your history in the past.” “I do not understand you, officer.” “You will, however.” “Why are you looking up my reputation?” “I have every cause to do so. I see that you have the same name as the convict, or he has the same name as you have. Of course that is nothing unusual, for two men often have the same family name, and even Christian name; but you are favoring this prisoner in many ways, which looks suspicious. I have never noticed that you favored other prisoners, and I do not believe that you would do so without some secret reason, in this case.” “I have only tried to treat him humanely.” “I see the humane part of it, Pearson.” “I think I will walk around and see how the fellow is looking after he has spent this five-thousand-dollar bribe and got the poor convict to deny his own name. I wonder what he will take for a name if he denies the one he has got. For the love of Mike, I hope it won’t be Pat! Indade, I don’t want to have a name like annyone of the prisoners in here, and, thank God! the place has no Pats. An Irishman is too slick to come here against his own free will.” Pat was approaching the office. “Well, officer, you back?” “I am back, Pat. “You may go, Pearson. I will send for you when I need you.” “And if you knew all I know, you would need him now, before he went.” “Well, Pat, have you done anything with Prisoner 78?” “I? No, sirree; he is a ‘fellow’—a pet around here, he is.” “What do you mean, Pat—a ‘fellow,’ ‘pet’?” “Well, your honor, I never was a tell-tale, and I don’t want to begin now.” “Do you know anything, Pat, that I should know?” “I think if you knew all I do, you would have another prisoner in here to feed.” “I have always trusted you, Pat. Can not you now trust me?” “Sure I can trust you, but what about the other fellow. Can I trust him?” “I will take care of that part of it if you will tell me what you know, Pat.” “I am going to think it over myself a while. I don’t like to report too many times, for fear I don’t get it the same each time.” “You may not have to repeat, Pat.”