“Well, of all the blamed fools,” ejaculated the chairman. Then he gave his shoulders a shrug. “Go on and get a zebra suit, warden. I only hope this doesn’t get into the papers.”
A “trusty” was dispatched for the striped suit. When it had been brought Blalock already had removed his outer garments, amid the bantering of the others. He did not deign to answer them until he had buttoned about him the prison jacket and jammed upon his head the little striped cap.
“I guess I’m ready,” he said then. “You gentlemen have seen fit to ridicule the experiment I am about to make. But I say to you that I am doing this in all seriousness. I do not believe that ‘solitary’ is as bad as Ellis pictured it to us. I am going to find out. Warden, you will please see that conditions here are made exactly like those which surround a prisoner in this place.”
He whirled upon his heel and strode into a cell.
“How long do you want to be left in there?” asked the warden. “Fifteen minutes or so?”
“Ellis declared his belief that I could not stand it for an hour or two,” came the reply from the depths of the cell. “Suppose that we make it two hours. At the end of that time you may return and release me. But not a minute before.”
“Very well, Number 9982,” replied the warden. “You now are alone with your conscience.”
The heavy door clanged shut, and a faint click told Blalock that the light above the door had been snapped off. Then the sound of footsteps, growing fainter and fainter, the clang of the door leading to the basement—then silence. Blalock was alone.
Feeling with his hands, he made his way to a corner of the cell and sat down upon the bare, hard floor.