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"You will have to take everything you have out of your pockets," Kendall now informed
Cowperwood. Ordinarily he would have said, "Search the prisoner."
Cowperwood stepped forward and laid out a purse with twenty-five dollars in it, a pen-knife, a
lead-pencil, a small note-book, and a little ivory elephant which Aileen had given him once, "for
luck," and which he treasured solely because she gave it to him. Kendall looked at the latter
curiously. "Now you can go on," he said to the "trusty," referring to the undressing and bathing
process which was to follow.
"This way," said the latter, addressing Cowperwood, and preceding him into an adjoining room,
where three closets held three old-fashioned, iron-bodied, wooden-top bath-tubs, with their
attendant shelves for rough crash towels, yellow soap, and the like, and hooks for clothes.
"Get in there," said the trusty, whose name was Thomas Kuby, pointing to one of the tubs.
Cowperwood realized that this was the beginning of petty official supervision; but he deemed it
wise to appear friendly even here.
"I see," he said. "I will."
"That's right," replied the attendant, somewhat placated. "What did you bring?"
Cowperwood looked at him quizzically. He did not understand. The prison attendant realized
that this man did not know the lingo of the place. "What did you bring?" he repeated. "How
many years did you get?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Cowperwood, comprehendingly. "I understand. Four and three months."
He decided to humor the man. It would probably be better so.
"What for?" inquired Kuby, familiarly.
Cowperwood's blood chilled slightly. "Larceny," he said.
"Yuh got off easy," commented Kuby. "I'm up for ten. A rube judge did that to me."
Kuby had never heard of Cowperwood's crime. He would not have understood its subtleties if
he had. Cowperwood did not want to talk to this man; he did not know how. He wished he would
go away; but that was not likely. He wanted to be put in his cell and let alone.
"That's too bad," he answered; and the convict realized clearly that this man was really not one
of them, or he would not have said anything like that. Kuby went to the two hydrants opening
into the bath-tub and turned them on. Cowperwood had been undressing the while, and now
stood naked, but not ashamed, in front of this eighth-rate intelligence.
"Don't forget to wash your head, too," said Kuby, and went away.
Cowperwood stood there while the water ran, meditating on his fate. It was strange how life had
dealt with him of late--so severely. Unlike most men in his position, he was not suffering from a
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