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Chapter 3

           “Whohadsquealed?”wastheironequest,andthroughoutthenightthequestwaspursued.ThequestforCecilWinwoodwasvain,andthesuspicionagainsthimwasgeneral.

           “There’sonlyonething,lads,”SkysailJackfinallysaid.“It’llsoonbemorning,andthenthey’lltakeusoutandgiveusbloodyhell.Wewerecaughtdeadtorightswithourclotheson.Winwoodcrossedusandsquealed.They’regoingtogetusoutonebyoneandmessusup.There’sfortyofus.Anylyin’sboundtobefoundout.Soeachlad,whentheysweathim,justtellsthetruth,thewholetruth,sohelphimGod.”

           Andthere,inthatdarkholeofman’sinhumanity,fromdungeoncelltodungeoncell,theirmouthsagainstthegratings,thetwo-scoreliferssolemnlypledgedthemselvesbeforeGodtotellthetruth.

           Littlegooddidtheirtruth-tellingdothem.Atnineo’clocktheguards,paidbravoesofthesmugcitizenswhoconstitutethestate,fullofmeatandsleep,wereuponus.Notonlyhadwehadnobreakfast,butwehadhadnowater.Andbeatenmenarepronetofeverishness.Iwonder,myreader,ifyoucanglimpseorguessthefaintestconnotationofamanbeaten—“beatup,”weprisonerscallit.Butno,Ishallnottellyou.Letitsufficetoknowthatthesebeaten,feverishmenlaysevenhourswithoutwater.

           Atninetheguardsarrived.Therewerenotmanyofthem.

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