The Green Box

CHAPTER I CONVICT 9638

THE air seemed thick within the prison cell. Rays of dull-yellow light from the central cellroom faded on the threshold, as though shrinking from the confinement of the cell itself.

Bolder was the pallid moonlight that trickled through the window. It formed a whitish splash across the cell floor — a luminous pool that was marked with lines of black, as grim reminders of the bars between which the moonlight came.

Eyes were upon that patch of light. Two men were staring toward it, fascinated by this token of the outside world. Moonlight was the only privilege that these prisoners could share with free men in the world beyond the penitentiary walls.

One man, his dull face rendered overly pale by reason of the moonlight, was staring from a lower bunk. His clutching hands — trembling talons — were closed about the side of the iron bedstead.

The other, stationed in the berth above, was gazing toward the floor in patient fashion. Of the two, he seemed less troubled by his plight.

“Sammy” — the man below was speaking in a wheezy whisper — “Sammy—”

The upper man leaned over the edge of the bunk. His face, crafty as it was hardened, formed a marked contrast to the peaked countenance of the prisoner below.

“What is it, Ferris?” came the cautious question.

“I–I’m feeling worse.” The wheezy man gasped as he spoke. “I–I can’t hold out — much longer.”

“You’ll be all right tomorrow.” Sammy’s tone was encouraging. “Take it easy, old fellow. They’re going to ship you to the hospital tomorrow. You’ll feel like a new man, Ferris.”

“Ferris!” The man below gasped his own name. “Ferris — Ferris Legrand. That’s my name, isn’t it?”

“Sure it is.” The man above laughed. “Ferris Legrand — that’s you. Sam Fulwell — that’s me.”

“All right, Sammy.” Legrand sighed contentedly. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be done. Done, I tell you! Everything has been taken from me here — even my name. Ferris Legrand — that’s not my name. I’m nine — six — three — eight. That’s it, Sammy. Convict nine — six — three — eight—”

“Forget it,” growled the man above. “That doesn’t mean anything, Ferris. It’s just like a telephone number or a street address. Forget it.”

“I can’t forget it! Nine — six—”

A warning hiss from above. The moaning man became silent. His cellmate had detected a sound. The keenness of his ears was proven a second later.

Click — click — click—

The pacing footsteps of a guard sounded with approaching monotony. A bulky man appeared outside the cell door. He shot the rays of a flashlight into the little room. He saw two prisoners lying with closed eyes. He paced on toward another cell and stopped for a second inspection.

Click — click — click—

THE receding beats announced the guard’s departure along his rounds. The wheezy voice began again from the bunk below. Its tones were scarcely audible. The man above leaned further over the edge.

“Sammy” — Legrand’s words were disjointed. “Don’t forget — all that I told you. You — you know the place. You — you’ll be out of here. You’ll get — what I left there—”

“I sure will, Ferris.”

“It’s — it’s all I managed to keep, Sammy. It’s — it’s worth more than — than all they took from me. They don’t know about it, Sammy! You’re the only person that I ever told—”

“Easy, Ferris. You can count on me.”

“Even Mildred doesn’t know,” gasped Legrand. “My — my poor daughter. I was — was afraid to tell her. I wouldn’t have told you, Sammy — except that I’m going to die. I–I had to count on you—”

“You’ll be all right.” The man above was studying Ferris Legrand’s pale face. Tired eyes had closed. Legrand could scarcely mumble. “It won’t be long before you’re out. I’ll have what you want—”

The man who called himself Sam Fulwell stopped him abruptly. Again he assumed a listening attitude. His face was grim and tense. His eyes centered on the moonlight that showed the outline of the cell window. They remained focused there, staring.

The square of light had changed. Across a corner near the cell door lay a shrouding edge of blackness that broke the luminous space. The firm-faced man stared toward the door. Seeing nothing, he gazed at the window. The moonlight showed in full intensity. There was nothing there to block its path.

Again the keen eyes wandered to the floor. The blackness that obscured a portion of the moonlight was still in evidence. To the startled gaze that viewed it, the patch of darkness seemed grotesquely like a human silhouette! Yet there was no one at the door of the cell — no one that the observant prisoner could see.

“Sammy!” Legrand’s wheezy whisper bore an anxious note. “Sammy! Are you sure I told — I told you all that you need to know? If you’re not sure about—”

“Sh-h!” The whisper was fervent from above.

“What’s the matter?” wheezed Legrand. “There’s nobody coming, Sammy. This is the last chance I’ll have to talk to you.”

“Keep quiet, Ferris.” The order was fierce. “I know everything. Don’t say another word.”

“But maybe I forgot something. You only know what I’ve told you. You’ve got to listen, Sammy—”

“Sh-h!”

Sammy’s eyes were still glued to the unmoving patch of blackness. Despite its lack of motion, that splotch might indicate a living presence. The man in the bunk above was anxious to hush his cellmate.

Legrand, in turn, was quite as anxious to proceed. His condition was delirious. His fevered mind was seeking to deliver its old message through dried lips. Mumbling words came from the lower bunk. Again, a warning whisper sounded from above. It would have failed, but for a stroke of fortune.

Click — click — click—

The guard was returning to the cellroom.

Legrand, like Sammy, heard the pacing footsteps. With a weary sigh, the peaked man in the lower bunk rolled over on his side and lay silent. Despite his fevered brain, he knew the meaning of the clicks and followed the rule that he had learned — that of silence when the guard approached.

THE guard was slow on this trip. His clicking steps were interrupted as he stopped at different cells. They came closer; his bulky form blocked out the feeble light from the central room. His flashlight roamed through the cell where Ferris Legrand and his fellow prisoner were stationed.

The beams showed the man called Sammy. He was raised upon one elbow. His eyes had been staring at that motionless patch upon the floor. Now they met the flashlight’s glare, and Sammy’s left hand rose.

“What’s the matter?” growled the guard.

Sammy pointed to the bunk below.

“Mighty sick,” he replied in a low tone. “Maybe he won’t last the night out—”

The guard threw a flash toward Legrand’s bunk. He saw the pale face; he observed closed eyelids. He clicked off the flashlight and lowered his growl as he spoke to the man in the upper bunk.

“He’s asleep now,” asserted the guard. “He’ll do till morning. They’re coming for him at six o’clock.”

The guard paced away. Sammy, still leaning on his elbow, stared hard at the moonlight on the floor. The guard’s form had not obscured it. All the while, the blackened silhouette had remained. It was still there now!

Sammy peered below. He could barely distinguish the whiteness of Legrand’s face. The sick man was asleep. The guard had told the truth.

The man above dropped his elbow. He continued to stare over the edge of the upper bunk, watching that patch of moonlight and the strange shadow that had somehow come across its path.

Long minutes passed. Legrand’s breathing was wheezy for a while; then it faded. The sick man was slumbering quietly. A hard, satisfied smile appeared upon the face above. The convict who called himself Sam Fulwell closed his own eyes. Five minutes later, unfaked snores proved that he, too, was asleep.

The watchful prisoner had found no need for further vigil. He knew that Ferris Legrand would talk no more tonight. The riddle of the blackness in the moonlight needed no further speculation.

All was quiet in the prison cell. On the morrow, Convict 9638 would be removed. He, himself, had voiced the seriousness of his plight. His cellmate had meant it when he had doubted that the man in the lower bunk would last through the night.

Convict 9638 was dying. His dried lips had made their last utterances. His end was near; and with his passing would go the secret that he had told only to his cellmate.

The man called Sam Fulwell was nearing the end of his term. He could sleep contentedly, for soon he would be free. When the doors of the penitentiary clanged behind him he would depart, carrying with him the secret of Ferris Legrand!