"Where are the women?" asked Annie, trying to keep down the lump that rose chokingly in her throat.
"They're in a separate part of the prison," replied the keeper.
"Isn't it dreadful?" she murmured.
"Not at all," he exclaimed cheerfully. "These prisoners fare better in prison than they do outside. I wager some of them are sorry to leave."
"But it's dreadful to be cooped up in those little cells, isn't it?" she said.
"Not so bad as it looks," he laughed. "They are allowed to come out in the corridor to exercise twice a day for an hour and there is a splendid shower bath they can take."
"Where is my husband's cell?" she whispered, almost dreading to hear the reply.
"There it is," he said, pointing to a door. "No. 456."
Walking rapidly ahead of her and stopping at one of the cell doors, he rapped loudly on the iron grating and cried:
"Jeffries, here's a lady come to see you. Wake up there!"