They reached London in the middle of the afternoon and as they walked with the crowd on the platform by the side of the train two men sprang forward and gripped each of them by the arm.

CHAPTER SIX

THE LITTLE DOCTOR WATCHED the autumn sunlight move over the floor, and when the last yellow bar disappeared he knew it was late afternoon and that another day was nearly over. Presently he heard the Cathedral chiming five, and a warder entered with tea and bread and butter for himself and for the other two warders who had to stay all the time. According to prison rules he was never left alone, day or night; but the warders were kindly fellows and tried to efface themselves as much as possible. They played cards or read newspapers or yarned together for hours, not worrying the doctor by their presence, though they were affable enough if he chose to join them for a game or a chat. Of course he already knew and called them by their first names. “It’s a queer thing, George,” he said (and this was the thing George quoted oftenest afterwards), “I can’t seem to get used to wearing boots without bootlaces. You’d think it would be more comfortable, really, but somehow it isn’t.” They would not let him wear bootlaces, or braces, or anything he might possibly hang himself with; because, of course, they intended to hang him themselves.

But in other ways he was treated with consideration; indeed, as he told the Governor whenever the latter visited him, “I’m quite comfortable, thank you.” He could smoke, read books and newspapers, and have any kind of food he fancied. And as Calderbury Prison was mostly disused, the part he occupied was not in the original cell block at all, but consisted of a couple of ordinary rooms with nothing unusual about them except steel locks on the doors and bars to the windows. Only a little less comfortable than the rooms he occupied in his own house in Shawgate, for he had never had luxurious tastes. In some ways he was almost freer than he had been at home; for he could get up and go to bed when he liked and he had ample leisure to read. Everyone in Calderbury Prison was sorry for the little doctor and rather embarrassed because in three weeks’ time he was to die. After the dismissal of the appeal the Governor was almost apologetic when he brought the news. “’Fraid I’ve nothing good to tell you, Newcome — still, I know you hadn’t been counting on it … And remember, anything I can do now … you mustn’t mind telling me.”

“There’s only one thing — you remember I asked you before.”

“Oh, that? Well … I can only say again I wish I could, but it’s dead against all the regulations. Just the one thing I can’t do for you. I’m sorry.”

The request that David had made, more than once, was to see Leni. She was lodged in the jail at Midchester, twenty miles away, where there was more up-to-date provision for women prisoners. He had not seen her since the trial a month before, and when he tried to remember that last glance he had he could only see the courtroom, dark at the close of an autumn afternoon, grey figures moving restlessly and meaninglessly as reeds in a stream, and somewhere, lost amongst them, her strange eager face seeking his in a bewildered stare. What had it all been about? And he didn’t know — the whole proceedings of arrest, police questioning, grand jury, prison, trial … all were shadows of a shapeless fate. They let him read newspaper reports of the trial, and to these he now gave a half-incredulous scrutiny. He could not really understand. Then he turned to the current papers and read news that was dark with huger fantasy — Mons, the Marne, the Aisne …