He was rather
impressed by this, and retired into a sentry-box in the
wall--to telephone, I suppose.
Presently he came back.
"The sheriff says he'll see you, ma'am. But you'll have to
leave this here dynamite caboose behind." He unlocked a little
door in the immense iron gate, and turned me over to another
man inside. "Take this here lady to the sheriff," he said.
Some of Vigor county's prisoners must have learned to be
pretty good gardeners, for certainly the grounds were in good
condition. The grass was green and trimly mowed; there were
conventional beds of flowers in very ugly shapes; in the
distance I saw a gang of men in striped overalls mending a
roadway. The guide led me to an attractive cottage to one
side of the main building. There were two children playing
outside, and I remember thinking that within the walls of a
jail was surely a queer place to bring up youngsters.
But I had other things to think about. I looked up at that
grim, gray building. Behind one of those little barred
windows was the Professor. I should have been angry at
Andrew, but somehow it all seemed a kind of dream. Then I was
taken into the hallway of the sheriff's cottage and in a
minute I was talking to a big, bull-necked man with a
political moustache.
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