“Yes. I am staying in the city now. I will not leave you alone.”
A few more parting words, and she left the cell.
The turnkey, a young, pleasant-looking man, attended her toward the great door of the prison.
“It is a horrible place, this,” she said, shuddering.
“I do not find it so, miss,” he replied. “As for Mr. Elkton, he is very comfortable.”
“Has he any privileges?”
“Oh, yes. He gets his meals outside. And he can have his friends in his cell, and can write to them and receive answers.”
“He has written to some of them, then?” she asked, quickly.
“Only one letter, I believe.”
“Any answer?”