I fear that in consequence of my somewhat disordered feelings I am lacking in proper respect for lawful authority. Instead of rising to greet the P. K. I remain seated on the floor in my old soiled and ragged garments, looking up at him without making a motion to shift my position. He is evidently surprised at my attitude, or my lack of attitude. Bending forward into my cell he whispers, "It's seven o'clock."
"Yes; thank you, sir." I am glad to find that I can still utter polite words, although I am seething within and remain doggedly obstinate in my seat on the floor. "But I think I will wait until Mr. Grant comes."
The P. K. seems surprised. With considerable difficulty he bends farther forward and whispers still more forcibly, "But it's seven o'clock, and you were to be let out at seven--it was all arranged."
"Yes, P. K.," I say, "and it's very kind of you to take all this trouble, but I don't quite know yet whether I want to go out. You see there are a lot of other fellows here, and----" I come to a stop, for I despair of being able to make the P. K. understand. And when one comes to think of it, I don't know of any reason why he should be expected to understand. I suppose it's the first time in his experience that a man in his senses has ever deliberately refused to be released from this accursed hole.
"It was all arranged that you were to come out now," insists the astonished P. K., getting more and more serious and perturbed. I shouldn't wonder if he thinks I've gone bughouse.
"Yes, but Mr. Grant was to come for me, and he----"
"Well, Mr. Grant told me to come for you, and it's all right," urges the anxious official.
I look up at him with what must be a tolerably obstinate expression of countenance. "I don't want to leave at present," I remark quietly, "and I shall stay here until Mr. Grant comes."
The P. K. looks at me for a moment as if he would like to order his attendant officer to haul me out by the scruff of the neck. Then he shakes his head in a hopeless fashion, and without another word bangs to and locks the grated door. The light is extinguished, and we hear the inner door shut and locked; footsteps resound faintly along the stone corridor, and the outer door is shut and locked.
