And I knew myself for Darrell Standing, just returned across the centuries to the jacket hell of San Quentin.

And I knew the touch of finger-tips on my neck was Warden Atherton's.

And I knew the finger-tips that displaced his were Doctor Jackson's.

And it was Doctor Jackson's voice that said: "You don't know how to take a man's pulse from the neck.

There--right there--put your fingers where mine are.