Owing to the fact that the cars still in the hunt had all gone to the Duck Club, the brief delay had not lost us our lead, and we proceeded at once, after landing near the penitentiary, to the gate. Our halt there was brief. Tish merely said to the sentry at the entrance, “‘Good evening, dearie.’”
“The same to you and many of them,” he replied cheerfully, and unlocked the gate. We then found ourselves in a large courtyard, with the looming walls of the building before us, and on ringing the bell and repeating the phrase were at once admitted.
There were a number of men in uniform, who locked the grating behind us and showed us into an office where a young man was sitting at a desk.
I had an uneasy feeling the moment I saw him, and Aggie has since acknowledged the same thing. Instead of smiling as had the others, he simply pushed a large book toward us and asked us to sign our names.
“Register here, please,” was what he said.
“Register?” said Tish. “What for?”
“Like to have our guests’ names,” he said solemnly. “You’ll find your cells all ready for you. Very nice ones—view of the lake and everything. Front, show these ladies to their cells.”
Aggie gave a low moan, but Tish motioned her to be silent.
“Am I to understand you are holding us here?”
“That’s what we’re here for. We specialize in holding, if you know what I mean.”