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though the fact that he was to be pardoned soon, or that he had a very excellent chance of
being, had not been denied--rather had been made much of from time to time. Wingate had
kept him accurately informed as to the progress being made, as had Steger; but when it was
actually ascertained, from the Governor's private secretary, that a certain day would see the
pardon handed over to them, Steger, Wingate, and Walter Leigh had agreed between
themselves that they would say nothing, taking Cowperwood by surprise. They even went so
far--that is, Steger and Wingate did--as to indicate to Cowperwood that there was some hitch to
the proceedings and that he might not now get out so soon. Cowperwood was somewhat
depressed, but properly stoical; he assured himself that he could wait, and that he would be all
right sometime. He was rather surprised therefore, one Friday afternoon, to see Wingate,
Steger, and Leigh appear at his cell door, accompanied by Warden Desmas.
The warden was quite pleased to think that Cowperwood should finally be going out--he
admired him so much--and decided to come along to the cell, to see how he would take his
liberation. On the way Desmas commented on the fact that he had always been a model
prisoner. "He kept a little garden out there in that yard of his," he confided to Walter Leigh. "He
had violets and pansies and geraniums out there, and they did very well, too."
Leigh smiled. It was like Cowperwood to be industrious and tasteful, even in prison. Such a man
could not be conquered. "A very remarkable man, that," he remarked to Desmas.
"Very," replied the warden. "You can tell that by looking at him."
The four looked in through the barred door where he was working, without being observed,
having come up quite silently.
"Hard at it, Frank?" asked Steger.
Cowperwood glanced over his shoulder and got up. He had been thinking, as always these
days, of what he would do when he did get out.
"What is this," he asked--"a political delegation?" He suspected something on the instant. All
four smiled cheeringly, and Bonhag unlocked the door for the warden.
"Nothing very much, Frank," replied Stager, gleefully, "only you're a free man. You can gather
up your traps and come right along, if you wish."
Cowperwood surveyed his friends with a level gaze. He had not expected this so soon after
what had been told him. He was not one to be very much interested in the practical joke or the
surprise, but this pleased him--the sudden realization that he was free. Still, he had anticipated
it so long that the charm of it had been discounted to a certain extent. He had been unhappy
here, and he had not. The shame and humiliation of it, to begin with, had been much. Latterly,
as he had become inured to it all, the sense of narrowness and humiliation had worn off. Only
the consciousness of incarceration and delay irked him. Barring his intense desire for certain
things--success and vindication, principally--he found that he could live in his narrow cell and be
fairly comfortable. He had long since become used to the limy smell (used to defeat a more
sickening one), and to the numerous rats which he quite regularly trapped. He had learned to
take an interest in chair-caning, having become so proficient that he could seat twenty in a day
if he chose, and in working in the little garden in spring, summer, and fall. Every evening he had
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