Devonshire, pleasantest county in Britain, has a bleak centre. Midway between Plymouth and Exeter lies Dartmoor, a silent ocean of grey, treeless hills that support nothing but gorse, primroses in spring, and a few water-logged sheep. In its middle lies a grim, grey prison.
Trouble has been brewing at Dartmoor Prison for weeks. Long-term convicts are kept there, hollow-eyed men in grey, their uniforms patterned with the Broad Arrow of King George.* They did not like their food, they did not like their cells, and they had heard tales...
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