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"Is that your verdict?" He pointed to Fletcher Norton.
"Yes."
So it went through the whole jury. All the men answered firmly and clearly, though Steger
thought it might barely be possible that one would have changed his mind. The judge thanked
them and told them that in view of their long services this night, they were dismissed for the
term. The only thing remaining to be done now was for Steger to persuade Judge Payderson to
grant a stay of sentence pending the hearing of a motion by the State Supreme Court for a new
trial.
The Judge looked at Cowperwood very curiously as Steger made this request in proper form,
and owing to the importance of the case and the feeling he had that the Supreme Court might
very readily grant a certificate of reasonable doubt in this case, he agreed. There was nothing
left, therefore, but for Cowperwood to return at this late hour with the deputy sheriff to the
county jail, where he must now remain for five days at least--possibly longer.
The jail in question, which was known locally as Moyamensing Prison, was located at Tenth and
Reed Streets, and from an architectural and artistic point of view was not actually displeasing to
the eye. It consisted of a central portion--prison, residence for the sheriff or what you will--three
stories high, with a battlemented cornice and a round battlemented tower about one-third as
high as the central portion itself, and two wings, each two stories high, with battlemented turrets
at either end, giving it a highly castellated and consequently, from the American point of view, a
very prison-like appearance. The facade of the prison, which was not more than thirty-five feet
high for the central portion, nor more than twenty-five feet for the wings, was set back at least a
hundred feet from the street, and was continued at either end, from the wings to the end of the
street block, by a stone wall all of twenty feet high. The structure was not severely prison-like,
for the central portion was pierced by rather large, unbarred apertures hung on the two upper
stories with curtains, and giving the whole front a rather pleasant and residential air. The wing to
the right, as one stood looking in from the street, was the section known as the county jail
proper, and was devoted to the care of prisoners serving short-term sentences on some judicial
order. The wing to the left was devoted exclusively to the care and control of untried prisoners.
The whole building was built of a smooth, light-colored stone, which on a snowy night like this,
with the few lamps that were used in it glowing feebly in the dark, presented an eery, fantastic,
almost supernatural appearance.
It was a rough and blowy night when Cowperwood started for this institution under duress. The
wind was driving the snow before it in curious, interesting whirls. Eddie Zanders, the sheriff's
deputy on guard at the court of Quarter Sessions, accompanied him and his father and Steger.
Zanders was a little man, dark, with a short, stubby mustache, and a shrewd though not highly
intelligent eye. He was anxious first to uphold his dignity as a deputy sheriff, which was a very
important position in his estimation, and next to turn an honest penny if he could. He knew little
save the details of his small world, which consisted of accompanying prisoners to and from the
courts and the jails, and seeing that they did not get away. He was not unfriendly to a particular
type of prisoner--the well-to-do or moderately prosperous--for he had long since learned that it
paid to be so. To-night he offered a few sociable suggestions--viz., that it was rather rough, that
the jail was not so far but that they could walk, and that Sheriff Jaspers would, in all likelihood,
be around or could be aroused. Cowperwood scarcely heard. He was thinking of his mother and
his wife and of Aileen.
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