Could it be some other member of the crime group? No — that, too, was impossible. None of them would risk a visit, daring though they were.
Now, in the visitor’s room, Carpenter was posted on one side of a long wire screen. He was one of a spread-out line of other numbered men, who were talking with people who had come to see them.
Carpenter stared through the screen. He blinked wearily, and finally recognized the face of the young man who stood on the opposite side. It was Jerry Stevens — his wife’s brother.
“Hello, Jerry,” said Carpenter, in a tired tone. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to see you, Herb,” responded Jerry, in a dull voice. “Came to see you — on account of Madge.”
“Madge?
“Yes. She wrote you, didn’t she?”
“She wrote me that everything was all right” — Carpenter’s voice was apprehensive — “just got a letter from her a day or two ago. She’s all right, isn’t she, Jerry?”
“Yes” — Jerry’s tone was reluctant — “I guess she’s all right, Herb. I’m doing all I can to help out. Of course, I’m out of a job—”
“She doesn’t need money, does she?” questioned Carpenter, in surprise. “I fixed that, Jerry — you know, the cottage is all paid for — I arranged those — those securities so she would have an income—”