The Wicked Go to Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

loaves of bread, which the newcomer had to fight for with the repulsive sitting tenants…

5
    A week went by in those two tomb-like dungeons. A week, as slow and black as the blackest night. When the two men emerged they were taken straight to the prison governor, a tall, acerbic man who read them the standard lecture on good behaviour, which ended:
    “I could separate you, of course, but that would be the easy answer. I prefer to think that you will reach some form of gentleman’s agreement… if I can put it that way,” he added, with a look full of contempt.
    “Now get out. Any more antics from you and I promise that I’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks.”
    Frank and Hal had not looked at each other since they had been reunited. They were marched out of the governor’s office, eyes furiously to the front so that they would not have to acknowledge each other’s existence until the very last moment.
    The Bull, who was boss on their floor, was waiting for them. There was a rose between his teeth, which would have looked more at home on a sick horse.
    “Why, if it isn’t my old pals!” he said. “Well, I did tell you that I’d be keeping an eye on the two of you… From now on, you play by the rules… I like lads who stay in step…”
    He had followed them into their cell and sat down next to the mute, who looked scared to death.
    “Now see here,” he said, giving a sigh of contentment, “if you go on larruping each other like this, you’ll very likely end up dead… Whichever of you puts the other one’s lightsout for good will automatically be for Charlie Chop… Never heard of it? It’s an amazing thing… The guy who invented it was called Guillotin… And he was a doctor!… As you see, I know my French history!”
    He gave a blood-curdling laugh.
    “A public benefactor… A machine for cutting troublemakers down to size… It’s already paid us three visits since I’ve been here!… We have to get up early, but there’s a bit more money in it for us… And it’s coming again, boys… in just a couple of weeks… We’ve got a customer needs a haircut. A citizen who mowed down two cops—not a wise move, you could say… Such a reckless lad!
    “The poor lamebrain has these fantastic notions! He imagines the president is going to give him a pardon! It’ll never happen! Police hides are sacred!”
    He talked to get himself high on power, on crude words and graphic images.
    At length he stood up, and with the short steps of a fat man shuffled to the door.
    “I want it nice and qui-et,” he said. “Do you understand?”
    He slammed the door behind him. The key turned in the lock.
    “Hi there,” said Hal. “How was the holiday?”
    “Had a great time, thanks.”
    Frank eyed his companion.
    “My word,” he said, “you must have been by the sea—you look a picture of health.”
    “You don’t say.”
    “I do, yes. Seems to me your spell in the hole was never going to put you on the sick list. The truth is it was all a fit-upto give you a breather. You were starting to have enough of it here, weren’t you?”
    Hal faced up to Frank.
    “You’re not going to start up on that again, are you?” said Hal sadly.
    The sad note surprised Frank.
    “Look at the daylight,” said Hal.
    “What are you up to now?”
    He turned his head mechanically towards where Hal had pointed: the high window.
    “Your eyes are normal,” muttered Hal.
    “What do you mean, normal?”
    “Are they normal?”
    “What would you expect them to be? Crossed?”
    “No, sensitive to light. When you’ve been in a black slammer for a week, your peepers get used to the dark. And afterwards… Here, have a look at mine…”
    He turned and faced the light. His eyes blinked. The brightness made them water.
    “You keep coming up with these dopey ideas!” sighed Frank as he stretched out on his bed. “Oh yes, Hal, I was in the slammer, all right!… With those stinking rats…”
    He held up his right foot. A