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Rh to teach knitting there. It seemed to me that the three had gone and returned as free men, unaccompanied by guards, but I thought I had misunderstood.

I had understood correctly, however. "We couldn't run out on the Warden," he explained. "We're convinced that we have some honor left after the way he treats us. We used to slink around with our tails between our legs, but he lets us hold up our heads and look you in the eye." All this in a dialect which Leo Carillo or "Woppo" Marx might approximate, but which I shall spare you.

It seemed, however, that there was a man within the walls who had not been so sensitive to honor's call. He had escaped during a baseball game played at the prison between the Welfare League team, all convicts, and the Tarrytown Stars. "But we got him back, all right, all right!" the young Italian assured me, and I thought I sensed something ominous in the emphasis he gave his "all right, all right!"

Later I asked Warden Osborne what that emphasis implied. The runaway had fled straight for New York and hidden in one of the Italian quarters, the Warden explained. There the sweetheart of my gunman friend saw him