Ruth Herrick's Assignment
rick mentally thanked the prisoner's lawyer, whose faith in the ability of his client to rebuff reporters had been artlessly displayed during her call on him two hours before.
When the newspaper woman passed through the door of the cell, her eyes, unaccustomed to the semi-gloom, saw but dimly the outline of a slender, black-robed figure, sitting at a small, plain table. The cell was larger than those in city prisons, and some effort had been made to render it habitable. There was a thick rug before the small iron bed, virginal in its white coverings. A heavy cashmere shawl opposite it concealed the whitewashed walls. The hand which put it there had sought to cover all trace of stone and iron by friendly draperies, but Mrs. Brandow would not have it so. A small dressing-table held a number of silver-backed toilet articles, looking strangely out of place amid their grim surroundings. The light in the cell came through a small window and the barred door leading from the corridor, which was clean and damp, and glaringly white.
The reporter hesitated an instant, and
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