CHAPTER XXVIII
MRS. MERTON'S REQUEST
"VARGE, Mrs. Merton is very ill."
Varge laid down the phial in his hand and looked up gravely into the face of Doctor Kreelmar, who had just entered the little prison laboratory.
"I did not know," he said in a low voice. "I did not know that she was even sick."
"Been failing," said Doctor Kreelmar brusquely, "ever since—hum!—all summer."
Varge's eyes, still grave, but questioning now, held on the doctor.
There was a long pause.
"She's asked to see you," said the little doctor. "The district attorney endorsed her request and sent it to the governor. The governor has granted it with the proviso that you go without coercion—of your own free will. It is your right to refuse. Do you want to go?"
Varge turned to the barred window at his side and stood silently looking out. The prison yard was dotted here and there with grey-and-black striped forms, some moving hurriedly, some with slouching gait, as they went about the errands upon which they were engaged. His eyes fixed for an instant on a gang of fifty or more convicts who were busy on an excavation at the corner of the power-house, which was to be enlarged—then swept to the grey walls, topped by guards with carbines on their
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