trusties had soon caught the hint. Jennings, the captain, and the guards were engaged in “breaking” 9009; the trusties, catching with their infallible noses the desire of their protectors, were ceaselessly watching for 9009’s first stumble, counting up already the Judas reward that would come of it. But 9009 did not understand all this. He knew only, vaguely, that he was being attacked, and that he must not strike back.
Of these persecutions, depriving him of his sunlight was the worst.
Every alternating Sunday, the inmates of one of the cell-houses had two hours of recreation in the yard while those of the second cell-house were at chapel.
For two of these alternating Sundays it had rained. When the third came, 9009 was famished. It was sunny in the yard; a soft breeze, laden with a scent of warm, wet earth and lush grass was rolling languidly over the walls; it passed the chapel and carried to the cell-house the sound of women’s voices, singing. But the
