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"
Who
had
squealed
?
"
was
their
one
quest
,
and
throughout
the
night
the
quest
was
pursued
.
The
quest
for
Cecil
Winwood
was
vain
,
and
the
suspicion
against
him
was
general
.
"
There
's
only
one
thing
,
lads
,
"
Skysail
Jack
finally
said
.
"
It
'll
soon
be
morning
,
and
then
they
'll
take
us
out
and
give
us
bloody
hell
.
We
were
caught
dead
to
rights
with
our
clothes
on
.
Winwood
crossed
us
and
squealed
.
They
're
going
to
get
us
out
one
by
one
and
mess
us
up
.
There
's
forty
of
us
.
Any
lyin
's
bound
to
be
found
out
.
So
each
lad
,
when
they
sweat
him
,
just
tells
the
truth
,
the
whole
truth
,
so
help
him
God
.
"
And
there
,
in
that
dark
hole
of
man
's
inhumanity
,
from
dungeon
cell
to
dungeon
cell
,
their
mouths
against
the
gratings
,
the
two-score
lifers
solemnly
pledged
themselves
before
God
to
tell
the
truth
.
Little
good
did
their
truth-telling
do
them
.
At
nine
o'clock
the
guards
,
paid
bravoes
of
the
smug
citizens
who
constitute
the
state
,
full
of
meat
and
sleep
,
were
upon
us
.
Not
only
had
we
had
no
breakfast
,
but
we
had
had
no
water
.
And
beaten
men
are
prone
to
feverishness
.
I
wonder
,
my
reader
,
if
you
can
glimpse
or
guess
the
faintest
connotation
of
a
man
beaten
--
"
beat
up
,
"
we
prisoners
call
it
.
But
no
,
I
shall
not
tell
you
.
Let
it
suffice
to
know
that
these
beaten
,
feverish
men
lay
seven
hours
without
water
.
At
nine
the
guards
arrived
.
There
were
not
many
of
them
.
There
was
no
need
for
many
,
because
they
unlocked
only
one
dungeon
at
a
time
.
They
were
equipped
with
pick-handles
--
a
handy
tool
for
the
"
disciplining
"
of
a
helpless
man
.
One
dungeon
at
a
time
,
and
dungeon
by
dungeon
,
they
messed
and
pulped
the
lifers
.
They
were
impartial
.
I
received
the
same
pulping
as
the
rest
.
And
this
was
merely
the
beginning
,
the
preliminary
to
the
examination
each
man
was
to
undergo
alone
in
the
presence
of
the
paid
brutes
of
the
state
.
It
was
the
forecast
to
each
man
of
what
each
man
might
expect
in
inquisition
hall
.
I
have
been
through
most
of
the
red
hells
of
prison
life
,
but
,
worst
of
all
,
far
worse
than
what
they
intend
to
do
with
me
in
a
short
while
,
was
the
particular
hell
of
the
dungeons
in
the
days
that
followed
.
Long
Bill
Hodge
,
the
hard-bitten
mountaineer
,
was
the
first
man
interrogated
.
He
came
back
two
hours
later
--
or
,
rather
,
they
conveyed
him
back
,
and
threw
him
on
the
stone
of
his
dungeon
floor
.
They
then
took
away
Luigi
Polazzo
,
a
San
Francisco
hoodlum
,
the
first
native
generation
of
Italian
parentage
,
who
jeered
and
sneered
at
them
and
challenged
them
to
wreak
their
worst
upon
him
.
It
was
some
time
before
Long
Bill
Hodge
mastered
his
pain
sufficiently
to
be
coherent
.
"
What
about
this
dynamite
?
"
he
demanded
.
