And three gills of water is all the inmates of this place are allowed in twenty-four hours.
And up to the time that Warden Rattigan took office and first visited the jail, all the water a man here was allowed in twenty-four hours was one gill!
No wonder the men down here go insane! No wonder they commit suicide!
The electric light, held close to the grated door of my iron cage, has enabled me thus far to see the operations of Captain Martin and the trusty. Now they pass along to the other cells, and I can see nothing except the fragments of their moving shadows on the wall opposite. But they are stopping at the doors of the other cells, and are evidently giving out more bread and gills of water. So there must be other prisoners; I shall not be alone in the darkness, thank Heaven!
Having finished their duties, the trusty departs and the Captain follows; after extinguishing the electric light. The iron door turns on its hinges and is slammed shut; the key grates in the lock.
Standing up, with my hands and face close to the iron bars of the grated door, I can catch a glimpse of daylight at either end of the dungeon where the windows let in a small portion of the bright sunlight I left outside. I hear the Captain's heavy footfalls retreating along the stone passage toward his office; then, muffled by the distance and the heavy iron door already closed, the outer door clangs faintly to, and is more faintly locked.
Then a moment of deepest quiet. Only the incessant whirr, whirr, whirr, of the dynamo through the opposite wall; and that seems not so much like a noise as like a throbbing of the blood at my temples. The rest is silence.
The sound of a voice breaks the stillness.
As my cell is nearest the door, doubtless I am Number One.
"Say! Is that guy, Tom Osborne, workin' there yet?"
Gathering my wits together so as not to be taken unawares, I answer slowly, "Yes, he's working yet."
Then there comes a hearty, "Well, say! He's all right, ain't he? What's he doin' now?"
I hesitate for an instant as to how to answer this, but determine that frankness is the best course.
"Gee! You don't mean to say that you're the guy?"
"Well, I'm Tom Brown; it's pretty much the same thing, you know."
"Well, say, Tom! You're a corker! I can't believe it's you!"