She sat down: "Oh, it's nothing. Only I've traveled a long way, and I
did not know it was a prison I was coming to."

"Won't you have some coffee? You don't look rugged."

"No, thank you."

"Well, it's not what you've been used to, of course. But hot." He
put the water within her reach and drew aside, looking at her now and
then. He was used to the pale faces and tears of women at that gate.
"Though she's different from them as has friends here," he thought,
silencing one or two noisy customers by a look. Presently he came up
to her: "You're afeard to go in there alone, young lady?"

"Yes, I am. What shall I do?"

"I thought as much. Yonder comes the chaplain. I'll speak to him,"
going to meet two gentlemen who crossed the street.

"You wished to see a prisoner?" one of them said, coming up to her.

Kitty was herself again. She stood up and bowed with her
old-fashioned, grave politeness: "I do not know. It was this that
brought me here," handing him the telegram.

"Ah? I remember," glancing at it. "Number 243 sent it, you recollect?"
to his companion. "But this is addressed to Hugh Guinness?" turning
inquiringly to Kitty.

"I am a--a member of his family. He was not at home, and I came to