At this instant, he was suddenly blinded, as "Creeping Jesus" flashed his lamp in his face, turned a cold stare on him, and glided on like a ghost. Lem clutched the bars and tried to look after the apparition that seemed to be borne along on air. While he was pressing against the door, a sudden medley of noises disrupted the quiet. As it came nearer, it gathered volume, and the somber stillness was quickened with the discord of voices, and the shuffling of padded feet, accompanied by the baser scrape of a heavier tread. Seemingly, this confusion stopped and centralized directly over his cell, but what tier it was on he could form no conjecture. In a momentary lull came the rasping of a key; then the subtle roll of a cell door, followed instantly by a frightened voice that rang through the dead corridors with a jumble of protesting, begging utterances that rended the solemnity of the place. "Oh, no, no! Not in there! Not there! I--I----" "Shut up--you'll wake every dog in the place--get in." "I won't go in there! I won't! I can't go in there!" "Will you get in there? You get in there--you damn fool!" "Don't put me in there--don't--don't! I won't run away--how can I? I'll stay right here--but please don't put me in there." "Take hold of him, Sam--throw him in--get hold of his leg." "Wait--wait--wait--please listen just a minute--I'm not a criminal--don't put me in--my parents don't know where I am--let me stay out here--my father is rich--he will send for me--he will pay you--he will come for me--please don't put me in that place--I----" "Say, Kid--you're the limit! For the last time--are you goin' to get in there? If you don't--we'll throw you in." "I won't!--I can't!--I'll smother in there. I'll die there and my mother will never know--oh--oh--you're choking me--stop--you're chok--cho--ch----" For a scant minute there came the panting hiss of labored breaths, heaved through clinched teeth; a combat of footsteps, mingled with the sound of ripping garments. Then came a dull thud overhead, a slight rumble, the click of a cell door, followed by an agonizing groan, ending with the pang of a sob that impinged cruelly upon the awesome, dead solitude. While these hateful sounds still lingered hurtfully in Lem's ears, two feet and a pair of striped legs confronted him. He looked up from his position on the floor. It was Last Time. "Ain't you asleep yet, Lutts?" he whispered, then went on, "Did you hear them slam that first-timer in? He's right over you in 520. God, but he hated to go in there--but he went in. He's no mongrel--he's a swell looker--only a kid--the poor devil. It's eleven o'clock--there's the bull lookin' now--night."