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Nevertheless, he did his best to pull himself together and look unconcerned, willing, obedient,
considerate of those above him. After all, he said to himself, it was all a play of sorts, a dream
even, if one chose to view it so, a miasma even, from which, in the course of time and with a
little luck one might emerge safely enough. He hoped so. It could not last. He was only acting a
strange, unfamiliar part on the stage, this stage of life that he knew so well.
Kendall did not waste any time looking at him, however. He merely said to his assistant, "See if
you can find a cap for him," and the latter, going to a closet containing numbered shelves, took
down a cap--a high-crowned, straight-visored, shabby, striped affair which Cowperwood was
asked to try on. It fitted well enough, slipping down close over his ears, and he thought that now
his indignities must be about complete. What could be added? There could be no more of these
disconcerting accoutrements. But he was mistaken. "Now, Kuby, you take him to Mr. Chapin,"
said Kendall. 
Kuby understood. He went back into the wash-room and produced what Cowperwood had
heard of but never before seen--a blue-and-white-striped cotton bag about half the length of an
ordinary pillow-case and half again as wide, which Kuby now unfolded and shook out as he
came toward him. It was a custom. The use of this hood, dating from the earliest days of the
prison, was intended to prevent a sense of location and direction and thereby obviate any
attempt to escape. Thereafter during all his stay he was not supposed to walk with or talk to or
see another prisoner-- not even to converse with his superiors, unless addressed. It was a grim
theory, and yet one definitely enforced here, although as he was to learn later even this could
be modified here.
"You'll have to put this on," Kuby said, and opened it in such a way that it could be put over
Cowperwood's head.
Cowperwood understood. He had heard of it in some way, in times past. He was a little
shocked--looked at it first with a touch of real surprise, but a moment after lifted his hands and
helped pull it down.
"Never mind," cautioned the guard, "put your hands down. I'll get it over."
Cowperwood dropped his arms. When it was fully on, it came to about his chest, giving him little
means of seeing anything. He felt very strange, very humiliated, very downcast. This simple
thing of a blue-and-white striped bag over his head almost cost him his sense of self-
possession. Why could not they have spared him this last indignity, he thought?
"This way," said his attendant, and he was led out to where he could not say.
"If you hold it out in front you can see to walk," said his guide; and Cowperwood pulled it out,
thus being able to discern his feet and a portion of the floor below. He was thus
conducted--seeing nothing in his transit--down a short walk, then through a long corridor, then
through a room of uniformed guards, and finally up a narrow flight of iron steps, leading to the
overseer's office on the second floor of one of the two-tier blocks. There, he heard the voice of
Kuby saying: "Mr. Chapin, here's another prisoner for you from Mr. Kendall."
"I'll be there in a minute," came a peculiarly pleasant voice from the distance. Presently a big,
heavy hand closed about his arm, and he was conducted still further.
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