out of the cell. "Leave her to me," he whispered. "The fine edge
of my nerves was worn off long ago in the hospital."

When we met again, I asked what had passed between the Prisoner
and himself.

"I gave her time to recover," he told me; "and, except that she
looked a little paler than usual, there was no trace left of
the frenzy that you remember. 'I ought to apologize for troubling
you,' she said; 'but it is perhaps natural that I should think,
now and then, of what is to happen to me to-morrow morning. As
a medical man, you will be able to enlighten me. Is death by
hanging a painful death?' She had put it so politely that I felt
bound to answer her. 'If the neck happens to be broken,' I said,
'hanging is a sudden death; fright and pain (if there is any
pain) are both over in an instant. As to the other form of death
which is also possible (I mean death by suffocation), I must own
as an honest man that I know no more about it than you do.' After
considering a little, she made a sensible remark, and followed it
by an embarrassing request. 'A great deal,' she said, 'must
depend on the executioner. I am not afraid of death, Doctor.
Why should I be? My anxiety about my little girl is set at rest;
I have nothing left to live for. But I don't like pain. Would you
mind telling the executioner to be careful? Or would it be better
if I spoke to him myself?' I said I thought it would come with
a better grace from herself. She understood me directly; and we
dropped the subject. Are you surprised at her coolness, after
your experience of her?"

I confessed that I was surprised.