As the official party was returning through B ward, inspecting the men, who were standing at attention in their day-cells, the officer in charge advanced to the governor.
"One man missing, sir! No. 27, sir! Mankell, sir!"
The chief warder started. If possible, he turned a shade more purple even than before.
"Fetch me the key of the night-cells," he said.
It was brought. They went upstairs-the Major, the governor, the chief and second warders. Sure enough they found the missing man, standing at attention in his night-cell, waiting to be let out-the only man in the prison whom they had found in his place. The chief warder unlocked him. In silence they followed him as he went downstairs.
When the Major and Mr. Paley found themselves alone, both of them seemed a little bewildered.
"Well, Major, what do you think of it now?"
"It's a got-up thing! I'll stake my life, it's a got-up thing!"
"What do you mean-a got-up thing?"
"Some of the officers know more about it than they have chosen to say-that man Slater, for instance. But I'll have the thing sifted to the bottom before I go. I never heard of anything more audacious in the whole of my career."
The governor smiled, but he made no comment on the Major's observation. It was arranged that an inquiry should be held after chapel. During chapel a fresh subject was added to the list of those which already called for prompt inquiry.
Probably there is no more delicate and difficult position than that of a prison chaplain. If any man doubt this, let him step into a prison chaplain's shoes and see. He must have two faces, and each face must look in an exactly opposite way. The one towards authority-he is an official, an upholder of the law; the other towards the defiers of authority-he is the criminal's best friend. It requires the wisest of men to do his duty, so as to please both sides; and he must please both sides-or fail. As has already been hinted, Mr. Hewett, the Chaplain of Canterstone Jail, was not the wisest of men. He was in the uncomfortable-but not uncommon-position of being disliked by both the rival houses. He meant well, but he was not an apt interpreter of his own meaning. He blundered, sometimes on the prisoners' toes, and sometimes on the toes of the officials. Before the service began, the governor thought of giving him a hint, not-in the course of it-to touch on the events of the last two days. But previous hints of the same kind had not by any means been well received, and he refrained. Exactly what he feared would happen, happened. Both the inspector and the governor were present at the service. Possibly the chaplain supposed this to be an excellent opportunity of showing the sort of man he was-one full of zeal. At any rate, before the service was over, before pronouncing the benediction, he came down to the altar-rail, in the way they knew so well. The governor, outwardly unruffled, inwardly groaned.
"I have something to say to you."
When he said this, those who knew him knew exactly what was coming; or they thought they did, for, for once in a way, they were grievously wrong. When the chaplain had got so far he paused. It was his habit to indulge in these eloquent pauses, but it was not his habit to behave as he immediately did. While they were waiting for him to go on, almost forecasting the words he would use, a spasm seemed to go all over him, and he clutched the rail and spoke. And what he said was this-
"Bust the screws and blast 'em!"
The words were shouted rather than spoken. In the very act of utterance he clung on to the rail as though he needed its support to enable him to stand. The chapel was intensely still. The men stared at him as though unable to believe their eyes and ears. The chaplain was noted for his little eccentricities, but it was the first time they had taken such a shape as this.
"That's not what I meant to say." The words came out with a gasp. Mr. Hewett put his hand up to his brow. "That's not what I meant to say."
He gave a frightened glance around. Suddenly his gaze became fixed, and he looked intently at some object right in front of him. His eyes assumed a dull and fish-like stare. He hung on to the rail, his surpliced figure trembling as with palsy. Words fell from his lips with feverish volubility.
"What's the good of a screw, I'd like to know? Did you ever know one what was worth his salt? I never did. Look at that beast, Slater, great fat brute, what'd get a man three days' bread-and-water as soon as look at him. A little bread and water'd do him good. Look at old Murray-call a man like that chief warder. I wonder what a chief fat-head's like? As for the governor-as for the governor-as-for-the-governor-"
The chapel was in confusion. The officers rose in their seats. Mr. Paley stood up in his pew, looking whiter than he was wont to do. It seemed as though the chaplain was struggling with an unseen antagonist. He writhed and twisted, contending, as it were, with something-or some one-which appeared to be in front of him. His sentence remained unfinished. All at once he collapsed, and, sinking into a heap, lay upon the steps of the altar-still.
"Take the men out," said the governor's quiet voice.
The men were taken out. The schoolmaster was already at the chaplain's side. With him were two or three of the prisoners who sang in the choir. The governor and the inspector came and looked down at the senseless man.
"Seems to be in a sort of fit," the schoolmaster said.
"Let some one go and see if the doctor has arrived. Ask him to come up here at once." With that the governor left the chapel, the inspector going with him. "It's no good our staying. He'll be all right. I-I don't feel quite well."
Major Hardinge looked at him shrewdly out of the corner of his eyes. "Does he drink?"
"Not that I am aware of. I have never heard of it before. I should say certainly not."
"Is he mad?"
"No-o-he has his peculiarities-but he certainly is not mad."
"Is he subject to fits?"
"I have not known of his having one before."
When they reached the office the Major began to pace about.
"That chaplain of yours must be stark mad."
"If so, it is a very sudden attack."
"Did you hear what he said?"
"Very well indeed."
"Never heard such a thing in my life! Is he in the habit of using such language?"
"Hardly. Perhaps we had better leave it till we hear what the doctor says. Possibly there is some simple explanation. I am afraid the chaplain is unwell."
"If he isn't unwell, I don't know what he is. Upon my word, Paley, I can't congratulate you upon the figure Canterstone Jail has cut during the last few days. I don't know what sort of report I shall have to make."
The governor winced. When, a few minutes afterwards, the doctor entered, he began upon the subject at once.
"How is the chaplain, doctor?"
Dr. Livermore gave a curious glance about him. Then he shook hands with the inspector. Then he sat down. Taking off his hat, he wiped his brow.
"Well? Anything wrong?"
"The chaplain says he is bewitched."
The governor looked at the inspector, and the inspector looked at him.
"Bewitched?" said Mr. Paley.
"I told you the man was mad," the inspector muttered.
"Hush!" the doctor whispered. "Here he comes."
Even as he spoke the chaplain entered, leaning on the chief warder's arm. He advanced to the table at which the governor sat, looking Mr. Paley steadily in the face.
"Mr. Paley, I have to report to you that I have been bewitched."
"I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Hewett." He could not resist a smile. "Though I am afraid I do not understand exactly what you mean."
"It is no laughing matter." The chaplain's