Part 22 (2/2)

Annie felt herself grow cold. Was this a sinister prophecy? She shuddered and, hastily taking a dollar from her purse, slipped it into the matron's hand.

”May I go now?” she said.

”Yes, my dear; I guess you've got nothing dangerous on you. We have to be very careful. I remember once when we had that Hoboken murderer here.

He's the feller that cut his wife's head off and stuffed the body in a barrel. His mother came here to see him one day and what did I find inside her stocking but an innocent-looking little round pill, and if you please, it was nothing less than prussic acid. He would have swallowed it and the electric chair would have been cheated. So you see how careful we has to be.”

Annie could not listen to any more. The horror of having Howard cla.s.sed with fiends of that description sickened her. To the keeper she said quickly:

”Please take me to my husband.”

Taking another dollar from her purse, she slipped the bill into the man's hand, feeling that, here as everywhere else, one must pay for privileges and courtesies. Her guide led the way and ushered her into an elevator, which, at a signal, started slowly upwards.

The cells in the Tombs are arranged in rows in the form of an ellipse in the centre of each of the six floors. There is room to accommodate nine hundred prisoners of both s.e.xes. The men are confined in the new prison; the women, fewer in number, in what remains of the old building. Only the centre of each floor being taken up with the rows of narrow cells, there remains a broad corridor, running all the way round and flanked on the right by high walls with small barred windows. An observer from the street glancing up at the windows might conclude that they were those of the cells in which prisoners were confined. As a matter of fact, the cells have no windows, only a grating which looks directly out into the circular corridor.

At the fourth floor the elevator stopped and the heavy iron door swung back.

”This way,” said the keeper, stepping out and quickly walking along the corridor. ”He's in cell No. 456.”

A lump rose in Annie's throat. The place was well ventilated, yet she thought she would faint from a choking feeling of restraint. All along the corridor to the left were iron doors painted yellow. In the upper part of the door were half a dozen broad slits through which one could see what was going on inside.

”Those are the cells,” volunteered her guide.

Annie shuddered as, mentally, she pictured Howard locked up in such a dreadful place. She peered through one of the slits and saw a narrow cell about ten feet long by six wide. The only furnis.h.i.+ngs were a folding cot with blanket, a wash bowl and lavatory. Each cell had its occupant, men and youths of all ages. Some were reading, some playing cards. Some were lying asleep on their cots, perhaps dreaming of home, but most of them leaning dejectedly against the iron bars wondering when they would regain their liberty.

”Where are the women?” asked Annie, trying to keep down the lump that rose chokingly in her throat.

”They're in a separate part of the prison,” replied the keeper.

”Isn't it dreadful?” she murmured.

”Not at all,” he exclaimed cheerfully. ”These prisoners fare better in prison than they do outside. I wager some of them are sorry to leave.”

”But it's dreadful to be cooped up in those little cells, isn't it?” she said.

”Not so bad as it looks,” he laughed. ”They are allowed to come out in the corridor to exercise twice a day for an hour and there is a splendid shower bath they can take.”

”Where is my husband's cell?” she whispered, almost dreading to hear the reply.

”There it is,” he said, pointing to a door. ”No. 456.”

Walking rapidly ahead of her and stopping at one of the cell doors, he rapped loudly on the iron grating and cried:

”Jeffries, here's a lady come to see you. Wake up there!”

A white, drawn face approached the grating. Annie sprang forward.

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