The Board of Prison Directors gave me my choice: a prison trustyship and surcease from the jute-looms if I gave up the non-existent dynamite; life imprisonment in solitary if I refused to give up the non- existent dynamite.
They gave me twenty-four hours in the jacket to think it over.

Then I was brought before the Board a second time.

What could I do?
I could not lead them to the dynamite that was not.

I told them so, and they told me I was a liar.

They told me I was a hard case, a dangerous man, a moral degenerate, the criminal of the century.