Edgar Wallace

Room 13 Edgar Wallace

OVER the grim stone archway was carved the words: PARCERE SUBJECTIS. In cold weather, and employing the argot of his companions Johnny Gray translated this as "Parky Subjects"-it certainly had no significance as "Spare the Vanquished" for he had been neither vanquished nor spared. Day by day, harnessed to the shafts, he and Lal Morgon had pulled a heavy hand-cart up the steep slope, and day by day had watched absently the red-bearded gate-warder put his key in the big polished lock and snap open the gates. And then the little party had passed through, an armed warder leading, an armed warder behind, and the gate had closed. And at four o'clock he had walked back under the archway and waited whilst the gate was unlocked and the handcart admitted. Every building was hideously familiar. The gaunt "halls," pitch painted against the Dartmoor storms, the low-roofed office, the gas house, the big, barn-like laundry, the ancient bakery, the exercise yard with its broken asphalt, the ugly church, garishly decorated, the long, scrubbed benches with the raised seats for the warders... and the graveyard where the happily released lifers rested from their labours