He cranked up the engine and stood aside. She could not resist the temptation: “If you follow me now you’ll have a shock,” she said. “I am going to Telsbury Prison.” The effect on the man was startling; he stared in amazement and fear. His jaw dropped, and into his eyes came a queer look of wonder. “Where are you going?” he asked huskily, as though he doubted the evidence of his ears. “I am going to Telsbury Prison--please.” She waved him out of her way. The car with the broken wind-screen went noisily along the broad high road, leaving the man to stare. And then: “Good God!” said Michael Dorn. Chapter Three The grim entrance of Telsbury Convict Establishment is mercifully hidden behind a screen of thick-growing pines. Its red walls have mellowed with age, and but for the high tower in the centre of the prison a traveller would pass it unnoticed. Hiding all the heartache that has made the word “Dartmoor” synonymous with sorrow, Telsbury has missed the fame of its fellow-prison. Lois had already made two visits to the prison on her employer’s business. A client of the firm had prosecuted a woman who had been engaged in systematic fraud, and she had been sent down for five years. It had been necessary to secure her signature to certain deeds transferring back to their lawful owner stocks which had been fraudulently converted. Stopping her car broadside on to the high black gates, she descended and pulled a bell. Almost immediately a grating was slipped back and two watchful eyes surveyed her. Though the gatekeeper recognised her, it was not until she had shown him the Home Office order which she carried that he turned the key in the lock and admitted her to a bare stone room, furnished with a desk, a stool, two chairs, and a table. The warder read the order again and pressed a bell. He, his two reliefs, and the governor were the only men who came within those walls, and his sphere of operations was restricted to the room and the archway, barred with steel railings, which cut the courtyard off from the rest of the prison. “Getting tired of coming here, miss?” he asked with a smile. “Prisons make me very tired and very sick at heart,” said the girl. He nodded. “There are six hundred women inside here who are more tired and more sick than you will ever be, I hope, miss,” he said conventionally. “Not that I ever see any of them. I open the gate to the prison van and never catch a sight of them again, not even when they go out.” There was a snap of a lock, and a young wardress in neat blue uniform came in and greeted Lois with a cheery nod. The girl was conducted through a small steel gate, across a wide parade ground, empty at that moment, through another door and along a passage into the governor’s small office. “Good morning, doctor,” she said. “I’ve come to see Mrs. Desmond,” and displayed her papers before the grey-haired governor. “She’ll be in her cell now,” he said. “Come along, Miss Reddle, I’ll take you there myself.”