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"I didn't suppose from what I've heard that Mr. Cowperwood would want to meet Stener here, so
I've kept 'em apart. George just left a minute ago with another deputy."
"That's good. That's the way it ought to be," replied Steger. He was glad for Cowperwood's sake
that the sheriff had so much tact. Evidently George and the sheriff were getting along in a very
friendly way, for all the former's bitter troubles and lack of means.
The Cowperwood party walked, the distance not being great, and as they did so they talked of
rather simple things to avoid the more serious.
"Things aren't going to be so bad," Edward said to his father. "Steger says the Governor is sure
to pardon Stener in a year or less, and if he does he's bound to let Frank out too."
Cowperwood, the elder, had heard this over and over, but he was never tired of hearing it. It
was like some simple croon with which babies are hushed to sleep. The snow on the ground,
which was enduring remarkably well for this time of year, the fineness of the day, which had
started out to be clear and bright, the hope that the courtroom might not be full, all held the
attention of the father and his two sons. Cowperwood, senior, even commented on some
sparrows fighting over a piece of bread, marveling how well they did in winter, solely to ease his
mind. Cowperwood, walking on ahead with Steger and Zanders, talked of approaching court
proceedings in connection with his business and what ought to be done.
When they reached the court the same little pen in which Cowperwood had awaited the verdict
of his jury several months before was waiting to receive him.
Cowperwood, senior, and his other sons sought places in the courtroom proper. Eddie Zanders
remained with his charge. Stener and a deputy by the name of Wilkerson were in the room; but
he and Cowperwood pretended now not to see each other. Frank had no objection to talking to
his former associate, but he could see that Stener was diffident and ashamed. So he let the
situation pass without look or word of any kind. After some three-quarters of an hour of dreary
waiting the door leading into the courtroom proper opened and a bailiff stepped in.
"All prisoners up for sentence," he called.
There were six, all told, including Cowperwood and Stener. Two of them were confederate
housebreakers who had been caught red-handed at their midnight task.
Another prisoner was no more and no less than a plain horse-thief, a young man of twenty-six,
who had been convicted by a jury of stealing a grocer's horse and selling it. The last man was a
negro, a tall, shambling, illiterate, nebulous-minded black, who had walked off with an
apparently discarded section of lead pipe which he had found in a lumber-yard. His idea was to
sell or trade it for a drink. He really did not belong in this court at all; but, having been caught by
an undersized American watchman charged with the care of the property, and having at first
refused to plead guilty, not quite understanding what was to be done with him, he had been
perforce bound over to this court for trial. Afterward he had changed his mind and admitted his
guilt, so he now had to come before Judge Payderson for sentence or dismissal. The lower
court before which he had originally been brought had lost jurisdiction by binding him over to to
higher court for trial. Eddie Zanders, in his self-appointed position as guide and mentor to
Cowperwood, had confided nearly all of this data to him as he stood waiting.
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