"I was on night-duty last night, sir, and I was going my rounds about half-past one, when, as I entered Ward C, I heard sounds of someone talking. I found that someone was talking inside of 13 C."
George Solly's prison number was 13 C, the number being that of the cell he occupied.
"I listened outside of 13 C, and I heard two voices."
"Two voices?"
"Yes, sir, two voices—and one of them a woman's."
"A woman's?"
"Yes, sir, a woman's—I heard it most distinct. I could hear what they were saying. They were regularly carrying on. I heard Solly say, 'My own true love!' I heard the woman say, 'Sweetheart!' and a lot more like that."
As if suspecting the presence, somewhere, of a smile. Warder Slater all at once became emphatic.
"I'm willing to take my Bible oath I heard it!"
The governor regarded the slightly excited officer through his spectacles with that calm, passionless, official look which he was famous for. He turned to the culprit
"Solly, what have you to say?"
Solly's reply was somewhat unexpected. "What Mr. Slater says is true."
"You were talking in your night-cell to a woman?"
"I was. I was talking to my wife."
"Don't trifle, my man, with me. I suppose you mean that you were engaged in some little ventriloquial performance?"
Solly hesitated. It was noticed when he spoke that in his manner there was a certain exultation—a suggestion of suppressed excitement.
