Captures - Audiolibro Gratis

2 §

On the platform the prison chaplain, who had a day off and was going up to town, saw a face under a grey hat which seemed vaguely familiar.

“Yes,” said a voice. “Late—299. Raider.”

The chaplain felt surprise.

“Oh, ah!” he stammered. “You went out to-day, I think. I hope you——”

“Don’t mention it!”

The train came clattering in. The chaplain entered a third-class compartment; Late—299 followed. The chaplain experienced something of a shock. Extremely unlike a prisoner! And this prisoner, out of whom he had, so to speak, had no change whatever these two years past, had always made him feel uncomfortable. There he sat opposite, turning his paper, smoking a cigarette, as if on terms of perfect equality. Lowering his own journal, the chaplain looked out of the window, trying to select a course of conduct; then, conscious that he was being stared at, he took a flying look at his vis-à-vis. The man’s face seemed saying: “Feel a bit awkward, don’t you? But don’t worry. I’ve no ill feeling. You have a devilish poor time.”

Unable to find the proper reply to this look, the chaplain remarked:

“Nice day. Country’s looking beautiful.”

Late—299 turned those shining eyes of his towards the landscape. The man had a hungry face in spite of his smile; and the chaplain asked:

“Will you have a sandwich?”

“Thanks....”

“Forgive my enquiring,” said the chaplain presently, blowing crumbs off his knees, “but what will you do now? I hope you’re going to——” How could he put it? ‘Turn over a new leaf?’ ‘Make good?’ ‘Get going?’ He could not put it; and instead took the cigarette which Late—299 was offering him. The man was speaking too; his words seemed to come slowly through the smoke, as if not yet used to a tongue.

“These last two years have been priceless.”

“Ah!” said the chaplain hopefully.

“I feel right on top.”

The chaplain’s spirit drooped.

“Do you mean,” he said, “that you don’t regret—that you aren’t—er——?”

“Priceless!”

The man’s face had a lamentable look—steely, strangely smiling. No humility in it at all. He would find Society did not tolerate such an attitude. No, indeed! He would soon discover his place.

“I’m afraid,” he said kindly, “that you’ll find Society very unforgiving. Have you a family?”

“Wife, son, and daughter.”

“How will they receive you?”

“Don’t know, I’m sure.”

“And your friends? I only want to prepare you a little.”

“Fortunately I have private means.”

The chaplain stared. What a piece of luck, or was it—a misfortune?

“If I’d been breakable, your prison would have broken me all right. Have another cigarette?”

“No, thank you.”

The chaplain felt too sad. He had always said nothing could be done with them so long as their will-power was unbroken. Distressing to see a man who had received this great lesson still so stiff-necked; so far from profiting by it. And, lifting his journal, he tried to read. But those eyes seemed boring through the print. It was most uncomfortable. Most!...