photograph he started and he stared, and he stared and he started, as though he could not believe the evidence of his own eyes.
"It—it can't be! At last! oh, my God, at last!"
The man's emotion was intense. But the governor paid no heed to that whatever. He repeated his inquiry in his cool, clear, acid voice.
"Are you acquainted with the original of that photograph?"
"Am I? Aren't I? Oh, Mr. Paley, have they found it out—have they discovered it was he? Am I to have my freedom? Is it known at last that I was innocent?"
"Be so good as to answer my question, Solly. Are you acquainted with the original of that photograph?"
"Certainly I am. Here is his name, written on the slate. It is Evan Bradell. From the first I suspected him. I even suspected that it was his deliberate intention to lay the onus of his guilt on me! God knows why; I never did him harm. Is he in custody upon another charge? Or how comes it, if he is in custody for the crime of which they found me guilty—guilty! me!—that I have heard nothing of it, and that I am not set free?"
The man's tones were hot and eager. The governor's, as ever, were cool, and clear, and acid.
"Solly, give me back that photograph. That also is the property of the prison. As in the case of the other, I merely wished to know if you were acquainted with the original. I would advise you, Solly, not to buoy yourself up with any hopes that the verdict which has been pronounced against you
