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Desmas had never seen Cowperwood before, but in spite of the shabby uniform, the clog
shoes, the cheap shirt, and the wretched cell, he was impressed. Instead of the weak, anaemic
body and the shifty eyes of the average prisoner, he saw a man whose face and form blazed
energy and power, and whose vigorous erectness no wretched clothes or conditions could
demean. He lifted his head when Desmas appeared, glad that any form should have appeared
at his door, and looked at him with large, clear, examining eyes--those eyes that in the past had
inspired so much confidence and surety in all those who had known him. Desmas was stirred.
Compared with Stener, whom he knew in the past and whom he had met on his entry, this man
was a force. Say what you will, one vigorous man inherently respects another. And Desmas was
vigorous physically. He eyed Cowperwood and Cowperwood eyed him. Instinctly Desmas liked
him. He was like one tiger looking at another.
Instinctively Cowperwood knew that he was the warden. This is Mr. Desmas, isn't it?" he asked,
courteously and pleasantly.
"Yes, sir, I'm the man," replied Desmas interestedly. "These rooms are not as comfortable as
they might be, are they?" The warden's even teeth showed in a friendly, yet wolfish, way.
"They certainly are not, Mr. Desmas," replied Cowperwood, standing very erect and soldier-like.
"I didn't imagine I was coming to a hotel, however." He smiled.
"There isn't anything special I can do for you, is there, Mr. Cowperwood?" began Desmas
curiously, for he was moved by a thought that at some time or other a man such as this might
be of service to him. "I've been talking to your lawyer." Cowperwood was intensely gratified by
the Mr. So that was the way the wind was blowing. Well, then, within reason, things might not
prove so bad here. He would see. He would sound this man out.
"I don't want to be asking anything, Warden, which you cannot reasonably give," he now
returned politely. "But there are a few things, of course, that I would change if I could. I wish I
might have sheets for my bed, and I could afford better underwear if you would let me wear it.
This that I have on annoys me a great deal."
"They're not the best wool, that's true enough," replied Desmas, solemnly. "They're made for the
State out here in Pennsylvania somewhere. I suppose there's no objection to your wearing your
own underwear if you want to. I'll see about that. And the sheets, too. We might let you use
them if you have them. We'll have to go a little slow about this. There are a lot of people that
take a special interest in showing the warden how to tend to his business."
"I can readily understand that, Warden," went on Cowperwood briskly, "and I'm certainly very
much obliged to you. You may be sure that anything you do for me here will be appreciated,
and not misused, and that I have friends on the outside who can reciprocate for me in the
course of time." He talked slowly and emphatically, looking Desmas directly in the eye all of the
time. Desmas was very much impressed.
"That's all right," he said, now that he had gone so far as to be friendly. "I can't promise much.
Prison rules are prison rules. But there are some things that can be done, because it's the rule
to do them for other men when they behave themselves. You can have a better chair than that,
if you want it, and something to read too. If you're in business yet, I wouldn't want to do anything
to stop that. We can't have people running in and out of here every fifteen minutes, and you
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