She sent him away with a kiss and a promise to let him come and show her what he could do.
As she entered the jail with John’s dinner, the jailor, whose friendship she had won by the liberal use of money and skilful flattery, whispered to her:
“Come in here a minute, Miss, I want to show you something.”
She followed him into his room and started with horror at the sight of a dirty suit of convict’s stripes spread out on a chair.
Stella’s face blanched.
“They are for him?” she gasped.
“Yessum, an’ if ye’ll excuse me fer sayin’ it, I think it’s a d——— shame.”
“They have no right to put this outrage on him before his people,” she cried.
“No’m, they haint got no right, but they’re goin’ ter do it to-morrow mornin’ just the same. They’re goin’ ter take him all the way ter Albany in that suit.”
“Who’s doing this?” she asked with rising wrath.