by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XXX.
THE PRISON TELEGRAPH.
But had JenA' held no communication with his brother Richard before hisdeath? Yes; Richard was a prisoner in the same building, and it wasfitted with a telegraph which communicated with all the cells and wasnever idle. It could not be silenced; the prisoners could not beprevented from making use of it at all hours of the day and night. Itconsisted simply of the prison walls.
No wall is so thick that a knocking on one side cannot be heard on theother. One rap stood for A, two for B, three for C, and so on throughthe alphabet. The rapping went on continually all over the building,and each new prisoner learned its meaning on the very day of hisarrival, and became a telegraph operator himself. A message sent outfrom one cell was passed along until it reached its destination, whenan answer was returned by the same route.
On the day which was destined to be JenA''s last on earth, thefollowing questions and answers passed from cell to cell.
"What news?"
"Death sentence."
"Who?"
"Baradlay."
"Which one?"
"The oldest."
Through Richard's cell, too, passed this cryptogram, and he askedagain:
"First name?"
But the only reply he could elicit was a repetition of the above: "Theoldest."