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Evening Star, Issue 7307, 3 September 1887, Page 5 (Supplement)

( Concluded.) It resulted that the prisoner one day took counsel with himself, and decided to bring the matter to an issue. Ho had grown weary of the warder, and deemed it well to make an end of him. But it was never his habit to sefk for opportunities, so he sat down quietly to wait until one should come. And presently it came. The warder appeared one evening in the cell of Number 222, and charged him with some stupid offence which it would have been beneath the dignity of any intelligent prisoner to be guilty of. By this time, Number 222 had acquired such complete control over the volition of this warder that he could make a slave of him by a nod. He suffered him to set forth his charge, and then, rising from his stool, he placed himself before the officer, and with a single glance he struck him into a state of cataleptic rigidity. When in the cataleptic state, the victim always remembered what had occurred in former abnormal situations, and he seldom failed to revert to the incident of the staff transformed into a whisky bottle. “ Let us have a little whisky, sir—do,” he pleaded in a wheedling tone, for in this con* dition he was a creature distinct from his waking self. “ Silence !” said the prisoner, who was now again the master. “I’ma-waiting for your orders, sir,” replied the warder submissively. “ You shall have them soon enough,” said Number 222. “Listen to me. In your present condition you are in my power ; when I release you I am in yours. Your power you use like a tyrant, and I am sick of it, and of you. You arc a poor and despicable creature whom the accident of fortune has placed in a position of almost unlimited authority over some hundreds of unhappy criminals. I admit that many in this place are very bad men, and merit no better fate than the desperate one they suffer here. But you are a very bad man also, and the least suited, therefore, to have power over your natural kin. Over good men a bad ruler is a sufficient evil; over bad men his rule is an intolerable curse You have too long abused your power here; you shall abuse it no longer. I put an end to your rule to-night.” At those portentous words the warder turned whiter than the whitewashed walls of the cell. His muscles quivered ; he shook in every limb. “What are you going to do with me, sir ?” he quavered. “I am going to settle your hash,” replied Number (222 gravely, adopting the mode of speech best calculated to strike home to the feeling? and intelligence of the warder. “My ’ash, sir. Going to settle my 'ash. Are you going to kill me ? ” “Oh no,” replied Number 222. “I am not going to hurt you in the least, I have thought of another and more effective mode of dealing with you. lam simply going to request you to stand on your head for a few moments, here, in the middle of the cell. I hear the Governor coming > be good enough to comply with my request atonce.” The Governor, in fact, was making a round of the prison that evening, and at that very moment his step could be heard coining in the direction of the cell where this unusual colloquy was proceeding. “ Stand on your head,” said Number 222. “ The Governor will be here in a moment.”

A dense sweat broke upon the warder’s forehead, and glittered there in beads. • “ Stand on your head!” repeated the prisoner, coldly and calmly. “ I wont!’ said the warder doggedly ; but his tremulous features and the rocking of his body showed him incapable of resistance to the terrible will of Number 222.

The Governor’s step came nearer. The warder had not closed the door of the cell, and it gaped some six inches. “Obey me now, I say!” exclaimed the prisoner, and his eyes shot fire into tho wild and fearful orbs of his victim. One convulsive effort to be master of him self the wretched warder made, but the prisoner held him with his eye, and made two rapid passes across the upper portion of the warder’s face.

Tho body of the warder swung forward, he turned a half somersault, and placed himself heels uppermost in the centre of the cell.

The Governor, with the chief warder at his elbow, paused at the unlocked door, pushed it open, and looked in. Spectacles of this sort were not common in the prison, and for a moment the Governor appeared to doubt what he saw before him.

He advanced a step into the cell, and there halted, speechless and confounded. The chief warder looked over the Governor's shoulder, and ho also seemed very much surprised. Number 222 had risen on the entry of the Governor, and stood to attention, with his hands at his sides. His countenance exhibited an air of mild concern, merging in pity. In the middle of the cell the warder slept serenely on his head. “In Heaven’s name, what’s this?” the Governor exclaimed at length, and he made a lunge with his cane at the inverted figure of the ward.

“Mr Smith on his head, sir. Would stand that way when he heard you coming, sir,” responded Number 222. “ Get up ! Atten—tion ! Stand on your right end ! Is this a damned skittle alley?” roared tho Governor, But the warder’s ear was accessible only to the voice of the prisoner. “ What —you won’t! ” and the Governor struck him fiercely two or three times with his cane; but the warder was insensible to every shock. Number 222, who alone had control of the warder’s abnormal consciousness, now silently exerted his will; and the warder at once resumed an upright posture, and his senses awoke. Of the situation of tho previous moment he knew nothing ; and seeing the Governor he concluded that he had just entered the cell, and saluted him in the usual manner.

“ Follow me, sir,” said the Governor with suppressed fury, and the warder went out after him, perceiving that something was amiss, but being quite without a clue to tho situation.

The next day it was whispered in every ward of the prison that Number 222 had worked another miracle, and that Warder Smith had lost his office. Yet wonders did not cease, and there was no ease for the warders, A subtle, imponderable force, to which no material barriers could be opposed, issued from the cell of Number 222, and passed silently, swiftly, invisibly, into the cells of other prisoners, creating the strangest effects upon the occupants. Some were troubled with distressing dreams; some spoke of snakes, caterpillars, and lobsters in their beds; and not a few saw the disembodied spirits of persons to whom they had owed money. A great number became suddenly deaf, dumb, or incapable of movement when at work in the daytime, and remained so until the magical influence which seemed to surround and overpower them was removed. One man was fined 200 marks for saying that chocolate and cold quail would be a wholesome substitute for bread and cheese on Sunday, and another was put on bread and water for a week for complaining to the Governor that he saw blue flames playing about the head of the apothecary. Formerly, none but the officars of the gaol had been subjected to these extravagant experiences; but now the prisoners and their officers were victimised together, and about one-half the population, seemed to have run clean mad.

The persons who were afflicted in these peculiar ways were such as had rendered themselves burdensome to the mildmannered 222 warders whose treatment of him was more zealous than tender; prisoners whom he could not endure because of their extreme ugliness; cooks of the prison who baked, boiled, or roasted the rations in a slovenly manner; and all those whose crimes (which he had secretly learned) seemed to call for a weightier punishment than that prescribed by law. Number 222, in a word, was rapidly acquiring complete ascendancy over the volitions, sensations, perceptions, memory, and imagination of all in the prison on whom he chose to cast the resistless spell of his glance. It should here be stated that the doctor of the prison was absent on sick leave, an

orderly of the medical department having administered poison to him ih a moment of annoyance. The doctor’s place had been taken by a young and futile man from a London hospital, who distributed pills on a principle of his own, and gave cough-mix-ture to a prisoner who complained of the gout. He saw nothing in the madness of Number 222’s innumerable victims which could not be cured with the assistance of the warder who was usually appointed to flog. But the warders, one and all, began to be horribly frightened. It had been their endeavor to hoodwink the Governor touching the supposed origin of these strange and woful visitations ; but in this they had not been entirely successful, for the reason that some of the cases which had to be brought before him were so unparalleled in the record of prison delinquencies that His Worship began to be suspicious, and some searching and awkward questions were the result.

Now, however, the officers decided that the time had come when the Governor should be put in possession of such facts as they know, and the chief warder and the second warder were deputed a deputation to wait upon him. They had an interview with the Governor, and put him in possession of'the facts. But there was really only one fact, and it amounted to this, that extraordinary things had happened and were happening in the prison. The rest was sdnjecture, and the conjecture of the chief warder and his subordinates reduced itself to this, that, in some way or other fvhich they could not explain, prisoner Number 222 was accountable for everything that had arisen to disturb the peace of the gaol. The Governor said this was odd, for the warders had been compelled to admit that so far as his own conduct was concerned Number 222 was an exemplary prisoner. But the Governor perceived from the statements told to him that the credit if not the salvation of the gaol was at stake; so he swore once or twice to clear his mind, and having finished swearing he ordered the prisoner to be brought to him. In the same breath he countermanded the order, swore again to show that he knew what he was about, and said he would see the prisoner in his cell. Number 222, in accordance with his regular habit, was spending the half-hour before bedtime in a lit tie quiet meditation, and had just been speculating as to the simplest and least troublesome method by which he might affect his escape, for the monotony of an unprofitable confinement began to be irksome to him.

Ho read the purport of the Governor’s visit in jhia face, and readily divined the causes to which it was owing: the warders had sent the Governor to Interrogate and intimidate him.

What then ? ‘ ‘ Pooh! ”■ said the prisoner to himself. “ Pooh!”

“ You are accused of creating disturbances in the prison,” said the Governor, and went on to lay his charge. While he spoke the prisoner’s eye was engaged in a quiet but rigorous scrutiny of the Governor’s features, and such points in his character as discovered themselves there were quickly noted. “ Pooh !’ the prisoner said to himself once more, for he had satisfied himself that the Governor also was susceptible. The Governor finished his harangue, and swore once or twice to show that he meant what he said. He was a man who dicTnot swear except upon occasion. “T am going to take you in hand, my man !” said the Governor, at the conclusion of his charge. “And I you, my man!” responded the prisoner, in dulcet but penetrating tones. The Governor’s first thought was that he had a madman to deal with, and his hand went behind him in an instinctive search for the door.

“ Remain where you are,” said the prisoner, observing the Governor’s movement. “ I will show you the door byand by ! ” The Governor, who was a bulky man and full of blood, crimsoned from one ear to the other, and his throat and tho bald space on his head grew red as well. There was, a rattling in his throat, and then he said : “Do you know that I can have you flogged to the boiie for this, prisoner ? ” “ Yea, yes; but we will liot talk of that. You and I are going to be excellent friends,” said Number 222.

“Do you know who I am?” The Governor’s eyeballs were red now, and he was just able to articulate. “Perfectly. But do you know who you are ? Come now, tell mo your name.” The Governor made an effort to shout for assistance; but his tongue clave to his palate, and he could not get speech. “ Tell me your name,” said the prisoner soothingly, and as he spoke he waved both hands gently before the Governor’s face, “ I am Major George Alexander Pordyco. I will have you flogged to death,'’ responded the Governor.

“ Why will you talk of flogging?” said Number 222, with a smile. “Let us leave all that. We must be pleasant. I like your name, but suppose I give you another. Tut, tut! you must not glare at me like that. I will make you call yourself by whatever name I choose.” He made another pass over the Governor’s face, and the fury vanished from it { but a dull and sullen look came in its place. “Sit down here upon this bucket while I think of another name for you. So ” —for the Governor’s muscles had tugged him down, though bo resisted with the whole force of his will. “ Now let me think. I must give you a name which shall be quite absurd and meaningless. It will be such fun, yon know; and you shall accept it delightedly. See now, I'll call you Tickletoby the Tenth. Isn’t it fun? Now, once more, what is your name ? ” The Governor sat silent upon the bucket, but an expression the most piteous overspread his features. “What is your name?” repeated the prisoner. “Don’t!” pleaded the Governor. Any name.but that! It is so very very foolish.” “Your name, sir, your name?” said the inexorable prisoner. “Tick No.no, please! Any name in the world but that! ” “ Resist me further, and I will dissolve you where you sit! Now, for the last time, your name ! ” “ Tickle—To—by tho—the Tenth,” murmured the Governor, from whose lips the foolish words were wrung by the sheer willpower of the prisoner. Two passes more, and the Governor smiled on him, and pronounced his name quite cheerfully. “Good!” exclaimed Number 222. “I told you we should be excellent friends. One word more and I have done with you. Yon are mj slave at present, and in five minutes I shall be yours. We are very friendly now, and I insist that you remain my friend in your waking state. Do you understand me ? I will it to be so, ” “I shall certainly remain your friend,” replied the Governor in a tone of the most emphatic willingness. “Very good. Get off the bucket. I can’t have you sitting there when you find yourself in authority again, for you look very ridiculous, and would wonder what had been happening.” The Governor rose smiling, and the moment he stood on his feet he was the same man who had entered the cell twenty minutes earlier.

Number 222 was in a deferential attitude before him, and had, as the Governor imagined, just concluded a statement which made it clear that he had been maliciously accused.

His feeling towards the prisoner was kindly, and when Number 222 asked some slight favor of him, ho granted it, and wished him a good night. Number 222 went to bed, and slept tranquilly. The next day he decided finally that he would quit the prison, for, despite the conquests he had made within its walls, he was very tired of it. In no long time he had evolved and shaped his plan. 1 2 was an adroit and even a brilliant plan. It fascinated the author himself. Two whole days he dwelt upon it, pored over it, toyed with it, and hugged it to himself ; for the cunning of it flattered his vanity. He fejt a scientific interest in it, apart from all question of its probable or possible issue, for this plan involved the submission of hia powers to a great and decisive test. Briefly, It was this. Ho was to procure

his release from prison without the lifting of a finger or the utterance of a syllable in his own behalf. I

Did such ;an achievement lie within the compass of human skill? At this time there was residing in wellappointed chambers in Cork street, Piccadilly, a young man favorably known to the best society as the Hon. Alan Bede PitzGibbon, He was a well-bred and gracious young man; for whom family connections, transparent penmanship, and an unusual reverence for the Constitution had combined to procure the post of junior assistant secretary to the Secretary of State for the Home Department. One evening, some three or four days after Number 222 had resolved on obtaining his freedom, this young man dressed himself for a ball, and entered the cab which was to take him to the house of his entertainer in Kensington. It was late, and the night was cloudy; and as the cab passed through a dim and half-deserted square in the neighborhood of the park, there appeared suddenly to the startled vision of FitzGibbon, mirrored and flaming in space right ahead of him, this brief surprising legend:

Professor John M'Oibhon, Number 222 in H.M. Prison at , Wrongfully Convicted.

The; words hung before him in space for five or six seconds, and melted into the darkness. In five or six seconds more they reappeared, burned in the air level with his gaze for about the same brief period, and again vanished. But by this time they had impressed themselves upon his brain, All that night, at intervals, the freakish words continued to assail him. They pricked his brain, made onset on his ear, and multiplied themselves in a thousand shapes and colors before his eyes. He had no joy at all that night, of woman, or of wine-cup, or of valse. He quitted the ball, and called a cab to drive him home.

There was the legend still, painted in quivering yellow letters upon the curtain of the night. Alan went to bed like one in a nightmare; for the thing had no sensible import for him ; he could not pick the ghost of a meaning out of those dubious words. When he awoke they were still before him: Professor John M'Gihbon, Number 222 in H.M, Prison at , Wrongfully Convicted, And now appeared for the first time four new words in the form of a postscript: He must be released. “The Devil he must!” said Alan, and fell to thinking. “ Who is' Professor John M’Gibbon, and why did they convict him wrongfully, and what in the name of Mestner has it to do with me ? ” “Mesmer!” No sooner had he said this word than his mind began to be faintly illuminated. He thought again, and having thought awhile he remembered somewhat. John M’Gibbon, erstwhile Professor, was the name of a famous mesmerist, who, during a little summer of renown, bad startled the town by his performances. He had once, at an evening party in Belgravia, mesmerised Alan himself, with unequivocal success. He recalled the Professor’s words on that occasion. “ I believe that I could do anything I pleased with you,” the Professor had said; and certainly he had done strange things with him that evening. He bad, on the same occasion, mesmerised the Home Secretary, and made him declare that his watch was a baked potato, much to the annoyance of the Prime Minister, who was of the company. Still cogitating, Alan next bethought him how the meteoric career of the Professor had been miserably cut short and blighted by a certain sensational trial at the Old Bailey, in which the Professor himself had occupied a position in the dock. The jury returned a verdict of “Guilty” without quitting the box, and the judge passed a heavy sentence, as the public had said that mesmerism should be put down. Fitzgibbon was an assiduous youth when his interest was aroused, and he now set to work to find and read the reports of the trial, together with the comments of the netrspapn-s upon it. When he had finished his study of the case, he could not but agree with the writer of an article in a morning journal who expressed his opinion that the verdict against M’Gibbon had been obtained less upon the evidence offered to the Court than upon the speech of the prosecuting counsel, who had made himself painfully jocular at the expense of the occult arts and their exponents. What was to be done now?

Waiting upon the Home Secretary the same morning in the ordinary course of his duties, he found that trusty and wellbeloved servant of the Queen in a distraught and nervous condition. The Home Secretary complained that he had been plagued during two nights by dreams about a person called John M'Gibbon, who said that he had been wrongfully imprisoned, and must be released at once.

The private secretary turned pale and replied “ This is very remarkable, sir, for I also have been troubled with visions about the same man.'’ “Then,” said the Home Secretary, in evident uneasiness, “this must be the person calling himself a professor who played such impertinent tricks with me at Lady F ’s one night, making me, as I was afterwards told, declare to a very distinguished company that my watch was a baked pitato.” “ It must be he, sir,” replied Fitzgibbon, “ and he did very extraordinary things with me the same evening.” “ What is he in prison for?” inquired the Home Secretary. Alan told the story to bis chief as he had read it that morning, and emphasised the weak points he had discovered in the case for the prosecution. “ I have it on my mind,” said the Home Secretary, “ that unless this person _is released from prison he will do something singularly unpleasant,” “There is no doubt that he is a man of preternatural abilities,” replied Alan. “ He is capable almost of bringing about a change of Government,” said the Home Secretary, nervously drawing a ghost on his blotting-pad. “He might, indeed, effect our removal, sir,” said the young man. “ He might bring on a revolution of some sort,” said the Home Secretary. “I believe he could do anything he pleased,” said Fitzgibbon. The Home Secretary without further words took a sheet of paper, and began to write a letter in a tremulous hasty way. “What are you doing, sir?” Fitzgibbon ventured to inquire.

“ I cannot help it, Fitzgibbon,” answered his chief very nervously, and writing as hard as he could. “ Something controls and impels me, lam not master of myself. This man must be a vehement and unmitigable villain—l know he must; and yet I am moved to write that, having fully inquired into the circumstances of his trial ana conviction, it has been borne in upon my mind that he is the victim of a desperate and dastardly conspiracy. There—don’t interrupt me; I feel sure that they were all in league against him. The Judge was his enemy, the jury was packed, the counsel was a mere scoundrel. Oh, to think that justice should be so perverted in a country like ours ! But he shall be released, though I lose office for it.”

And the Home Secretary (a phlegmatic and sceptical man at most times), who now wore the air of a person suddenly and completely possessed, finished his letter with an effort, and addressed the envelope to “ The Governor of H.M. Prison at “Alan,” he said then, with forced jocularity, “ I am going to give you an afternoon in the country. These foolish events have upset yon; you want a breath of fresh air, my boy. Take this letter, and travel down by the afternoon’s express, and give it into the Governor’s own hands, ” His manner changed, and he added sadly: “This is a most deplorable business, but I feel that I shall not rest till it is settled. Let me see you the moment you return.”

That afternoon, as he sat in the prison workshop diligently stitching waistcoats, a strange calm stole over the spirit of prisoner Number 222, and in the same moment he knew that his will had triumphed, and that his hour of release was at hand. Late that night Alan arrived at the prison and demanded to see the Governor on businessof the Home Secretary. He was shown at

once to .the Governor’s presence, and .gave him the letter that he bore. The Governor “read it: and looked surprised, .but daid he was not sorry. The next day Number 222 was a free man.