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"
Enough
of
what
?
"
the
Captain
demanded
.
"
Dynamite
and
detonators
,
"
the
fool
rattled
on
.
"
Thirty-five
pounds
of
it
.
Your
stool
saw
Summerface
pass
it
over
to
me
.
"
And
right
there
the
Captain
of
the
Yard
must
have
nearly
died
.
I
can
actually
sympathize
with
him
--
thirty-five
pounds
of
dynamite
loose
in
the
prison
.
They
say
that
Captain
Jamie
--
that
was
his
nickname
--
sat
down
and
held
his
head
in
his
hands
.
"
Where
is
it
now
?
"
he
cried
.
"
I
want
it
.
Take
me
to
it
at
once
.
"
And
right
there
Cecil
Winwood
saw
his
mistake
.
"
I
planted
it
,
"
he
lied
--
for
he
was
compelled
to
lie
because
,
being
merely
tobacco
in
small
packages
,
it
was
long
since
distributed
among
the
convicts
along
the
customary
channels
.
"
Very
well
,
"
said
Captain
Jamie
,
getting
himself
in
hand
.
"
Lead
me
to
it
at
once
.
"
But
there
was
no
plant
of
high
explosives
to
lead
him
to
.
The
thing
did
not
exist
,
had
never
existed
save
in
the
imagination
of
the
wretched
Winwood
.
In
a
large
prison
like
San
Quentin
there
are
always
hiding-places
for
things
.
And
as
Cecil
Winwood
led
Captain
Jamie
he
must
have
done
some
rapid
thinking
.
