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A Continuation of the Reminiscences of John Watson, M.D.

           Iassentedgladly,andwealldescendedtogether. Ourprisonermadenoattemptatescape,butsteppedcalmlyintothecabwhichhadbeenhis,andwefollowedhim. Lestrademountedthebox,whippedupthehorse,andbroughtusinaveryshorttimetoourdestination. WewereusheredintoasmallchamberwhereapoliceInspectornoteddownourprisoner’snameandthenamesofthemenwithwhosemurderhehadbeencharged.Theofficialwasawhite-facedunemotionalman,whowentthroughhisdutiesinadullmechanicalway. “Theprisonerwillbeputbeforethemagistratesinthecourseoftheweek,”hesaid;“inthemeantime,Mr.JeffersonHope,haveyouanythingthatyouwishtosay? Imustwarnyouthatyourwordswillbetakendown,andmaybeusedagainstyou.” 

           “I’vegotagooddealtosay,”ourprisonersaidslowly. “Iwanttotellyougentlemenallaboutit.” 

           “Hadn’tyoubetterreservethatforyourtrial?”askedtheInspector. 

           “Imayneverbetried,”heanswered. “Youneedn’tlookstartled.Itisn’tsuicideIamthinkingof. AreyouaDoctor?”Heturnedhisfiercedarkeyesuponmeasheaskedthislastquestion. 

           “Yes;Iam,”Ianswered. 

           “Thenputyourhandhere,”hesaid,withasmile,motioningwithhismanacledwriststowardshischest. 

           Ididso;andbecameatonceconsciousofanextraordinarythrobbingandcommotionwhichwasgoingoninside. Thewallsofhischestseemedtothrillandquiverasafrailbuildingwoulddoinsidewhensomepowerfulenginewasatwork. 

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