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- Джек Лондон
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- Стр. 205/210
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I
have
just
endured
a
visit
from
the
Warden
.
I
say
"
endured
"
advisedly
.
He
is
quite
different
from
the
Warden
of
San
Quentin
.
He
was
very
nervous
,
and
perforce
I
had
to
entertain
him
.
This
is
his
first
hanging
.
He
told
me
so
.
And
I
,
with
a
clumsy
attempt
at
wit
,
did
not
reassure
him
when
I
explained
that
it
was
also
my
first
hanging
.
He
was
unable
to
laugh
.
He
has
a
girl
in
high
school
,
and
his
boy
is
a
freshman
at
Stanford
.
He
has
no
income
outside
his
salary
,
his
wife
is
an
invalid
,
and
he
is
worried
in
that
he
has
been
rejected
by
the
life
insurance
doctors
as
an
undesirable
risk
.
Really
,
the
man
told
me
almost
all
his
troubles
.
Had
I
not
diplomatically
terminated
the
interview
he
would
still
be
here
telling
me
the
remainder
of
them
.
My
last
two
years
in
San
Quentin
were
very
gloomy
and
depressing
.
Ed
Morrell
,
by
one
of
the
wildest
freaks
of
chance
,
was
taken
out
of
solitary
and
made
head
trusty
of
the
whole
prison
.
This
was
Al
Hutchins
'
old
job
,
and
it
carried
a
graft
of
three
thousand
dollars
a
year
.
To
my
misfortune
,
Jake
Oppenheimer
,
who
had
rotted
in
solitary
for
so
many
years
,
turned
sour
on
the
world
,
on
everything
.
For
eight
months
he
refused
to
talk
even
to
me
.
In
prison
,
news
will
travel
.
Give
it
time
and
it
will
reach
dungeon
and
solitary
cell
.
It
reached
me
,
at
last
,
that
Cecil
Winwood
,
the
poet-forger
,
the
snitcher
,
the
coward
,
and
the
stool
,
was
returned
for
a
fresh
forgery
.
It
will
be
remembered
that
it
was
this
Cecil
Winwood
who
concocted
the
fairy
story
that
I
had
changed
the
plant
of
the
non-existent
dynamite
and
who
was
responsible
for
the
five
years
I
had
then
spent
in
solitary
.
I
decided
to
kill
Cecil
Winwood
.
You
see
,
Morrell
was
gone
,
and
Oppenheimer
,
until
the
outbreak
that
finished
him
,
had
remained
in
the
silence
.
Solitary
had
grown
monotonous
for
me
.
I
had
to
do
something
.
So
I
remembered
back
to
the
time
when
I
was
Adam
Strang
and
patiently
nursed
revenge
for
forty
years
.
What
he
had
done
I
could
do
if
once
I
locked
my
hands
on
Cecil
Winwood
's
throat
.
It
can
not
be
expected
of
me
to
divulge
how
I
came
into
possession
of
the
four
needles
.
They
were
small
cambric
needles
.
Emaciated
as
my
body
was
,
I
had
to
saw
four
bars
,
each
in
two
places
,
in
order
to
make
an
aperture
through
which
I
could
squirm
.
I
did
it
.
I
used
up
one
needle
to
each
bar
.
This
meant
two
cuts
to
a
bar
,
and
it
took
a
month
to
a
cut
.
Thus
I
should
have
been
eight
months
in
cutting
my
way
out
.
Unfortunately
,
I
broke
my
last
needle
on
the
last
bar
,
and
I
had
to
wait
three
months
before
I
could
get
another
needle
.
But
I
got
it
,
and
I
got
out
.
I
regret
greatly
that
I
did
not
get
Cecil
Winwood
.
I
had
calculated
well
on
everything
save
one
thing
.
The
certain
chance
to
find
Winwood
would
be
in
the
dining-room
at
dinner
hour
.
So
I
waited
until
Pie-Face
Jones
,
the
sleepy
guard
,
should
be
on
shift
at
the
noon
hour
.
At
that
time
I
was
the
only
inmate
of
solitary
,
so
that
Pie-Face
Jones
was
quickly
snoring
.
I
removed
my
bars
,
squeezed
out
,
stole
past
him
along
the
ward
,
opened
the
door
and
was
free
...
to
a
portion
of
the
inside
of
the
prison
.
And
here
was
the
one
thing
I
had
not
calculated
on
--
myself
.
I
had
been
five
years
in
solitary
.
I
was
hideously
weak
.
I
weighed
eighty-seven
pounds
.
I
was
half
blind
.
And
I
was
immediately
stricken
with
agoraphobia
.
I
was
affrighted
by
spaciousness
.
Five
years
in
narrow
walls
had
unfitted
me
for
the
enormous
declivity
of
the
stairway
,
for
the
vastitude
of
the
prison
yard
.
