"Georgie"
"Of course he is," I cried hastily. "I wasn't thinking of what I was saying. Poor boy—it is a pity."
Georgie's thoughtful look made me uneasy.
"Can't you get anyone down to play for you?" I asked hastily changing the subject. "Why not write to—"
"Do you suppose they guard 'em very carefully in those places?" he asked slowly.
"Naturally," said I. "He will be under constant supervision."
"I suppose one couldn't get him out by bashing a warder, or chucking a rope-ladder up to his window?" he asked eagerly.
I grew seriously alarmed.
"Georgie! Don't think of such an insane thing. If the poor lad is violent, it would be most wrong to attempt to get him out, and grossly unfair to the authorities. Besides, I don't for a minute suppose you could do it. You don't even know that he would come." This again
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