31
T
he
rancid smell of dirty bodies mingled with the odor of disinfectant. The heavy shoes of a keeper sounded along the corridor. His keys jangled as he unlocked the cell door.
“Cummon out,” he said to Tregan.
Tregan limped out. The man swung along the corridor, through the cell-block gate, to the warden’s office. He knocked. An answer came. He opened the door and propelled Tregan in. In a leather chair Alice was sitting. The chair stood on a patterned Brussels carpet. They said nothing.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” said the warden. The sunlight glinted on his bald head as he rose. Tregan heard the door close. He couldn’t look up. He spread his hands over his face. She was walking toward him. He could hear it. She was touching his shoulder. He pulled it away as a child would do.
