“I heard the words: ‘I am not going to tell you, now.’ I must be after getting out of this, for I’m hearing things, I am. I wonder if that strange voice has returned. I thought they—whoever it was, or whatever it was—had gone, never to return, but I do belave they have come back.” “I think Pat will be around soon, and I will pretend that I have had a restless night, and that I will not go to bed at this late hour,” thought the superintendent. “He will be thinking this over and will not get it off from his mind. I shall be anxious, for I have been worried very much in the last few weeks. Yes, here he comes. “Good morning, Pat.” “I’m not feeling anny too good, officer.” “What is wrong, Pat?” “Well, I’m after telling you at once. I’ve got meself in the penitentiary.” “Of course; we’re all in here, but not from force.” “And I never would be here by choice, but I’m deserving of punishment, and I wish you would give it to me unbeknown to annyone of the higher officials, and I would plead guilty.” “Pat, what is wrong? I never heard you talk so before.” “And I never did do so before.” “Have you committed a murder?” “No, your honor. But I come near liberating a convict. You have not the confidence in me anny more you once had, or never—” “Well, I am sorry, for I had a friend in you—or, at least, I felt so.” “And now I’m friendless, a lone Irishman, and I will soon be a convict.” “You don’t seem to want to tell me what is wrong, and I want to talk with Pearson to-day. The telephone always rings when I am talking. “Hello! Yes. You want me to bring Pearson to the office and read to him the warrant which I shall receive this morning? In the mail? His day for trial is set? All right, sir; I will obey orders. Good-bye. “Pat, you may bring Pearson in. I see the mail is here, or soon will be.” “May I ask of you one favor?” “Yes. What is it, Pat?” “If a fellow—scoundrel, I think, is the best name for me—should repent of a crime before it is committed and never was committed, would you or could you forgive him? Could they send one of them things you are looking for when the postman comes in? Could they send one of them after me to—” “Yes, Pat, if you are self-confessed criminal of some deed you have committed, you surely would receive one of those warrants.” “Why didn’t I die when I was a babe, instead of me poor mother, and she here in me shoes and I in hers?” “You must bring Pearson in here. Here is the postman.” “I will, your honor.