The detective seated himself on a small, round wooden stool, hidden from view by the heavy iron door of the cell.

But every word of what was said by anyone standing in the corridor, would come to Britz's ears through the grating.
Half an hour after Britz was locked in the cell, an automobile drew up at the curb on the Center street side of the prison and a young woman alighted.

Her slim figure was concealed beneath a long fur coat, her face shielded by a heavy automobile veil.

She approached the guard behind the barred entrance to the jail with the timorous manner of persons making their first visit to such an institution.
"May I see Mr.Horace Beard ?" she inquired weakly.
"Sure, if he'll see you," answered the doorman, unlocking and swinging open the broad portal.
She entered with a feeling of dread, as if the atmosphere of the place chilled and repelled her.

It is always thus with persons visiting a jail for the first time.