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Updated: May 2, 2025
You are a stinking coward, and you haven't got the backbone and guts to carry out the dirty butcher's work you'd like to do." Oppenheimer got a hundred hours in the jacket for it, and, when he was unlaced, spat in the Warden's face and received a second hundred hours on end. When he was unlaced this time, the Warden was careful not to be in solitary.
Doctor Warren, rubbing his hands to get rid of the lint from the warden's towel, came along settling himself into his coat which he had removed the better to examine the body of the East Indian. "Well, Donovan," said the county physician, "your friend saved you the trouble of convicting him." "Yep. But I'd a had him all right. I'd a sent him to the chair without any trouble.
In spite of the bitterness to which the slaughter at Seven Oaks gave rise, I think all fair-minded people have acknowledged that the settlers owed their lives to the warden's efforts. That night pandemonium itself could not have presented a more hideous scene than our encampment.
Some were naturally very small eaters, and some would eat all furnished them, however prepared. The females had such food as went to the warden's table, and, so far as I learned, what they needed, and ever appeared in good heart, except when sick.
Redclyffe took up his quarters in the Warden's house the next day, and was installed in an apartment that made a picture, such as he had not before seen, of English household comfort. He was thus established under the good Warden's roof, and, being very attractive of most people's sympathies, soon began to grow greatly in favor with that kindly personage.
Anyhow, the two of them spend all their income in entertaining. It's Robbie's fad to play the perfect host he likes to have lots of people round him. He does put up good times only he's so very important about it, and he has so many ideas of what is proper! I guess most of his set would rather go to Mrs. Jack Warden's any day; I'd be there to-night, if it hadn't been for Ollie." "Who's Mrs.
A new ordeal the next morning! Another of the numberless "pedigrees" is to be taken. One by one we were called to the warden's office. "Were your father or mother ever insane?" "Are you a confirmed drunkard, chronic or moderate drinker?" "Do you smoke or chew or use tobacco in any form?" "Married or single?" "Single." "How many children?" "None." "What religion do you profess?" "Christian."
She'll be right glad to see you, I'm sure, even though she's not 'Piscopal." Maxwell thanked her, and inquired the way to the Senior Warden's office, to which she directed him. Three doors below the post office was a hallway and a flight of stairs leading up to Mr. Bascom's sanctum.
But I had nothing to cover up, had acted in all cases as I thought to be right, so frankly stated my whole proceedings in the matters, as near as I could recollect on the spur of the moment, and also explained my motives, excepting that I could not, of course, allude to anything of the warden's procedure as making my efforts especially needful to the best order of the prison.
Just then the warden's back-door opened, and out came the warden himself, dressed in full clerical costume. He was going into the neighbouring city, but he stopped to speak to Philip, the wounded soldier; and all the more readily because his old faded uniform told the warden's experienced eye that he had belonged to the Marines.
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