“I won’t go down with you,” Captain Tucker grunted. “He wouldn’t talk if I were there.”
“I’ll want Joe with me,” Dr. Stone said, and a turnkey led man, boy and dog down a damp staircase. It was the first time Joe had ever seen this forbiddingly bleak corridor of cells, and his heart grew heavy with a sick chill. A key rasped in a lock, and the jail attendant threw open an iron-barred door.
“Somebody to see you, Cory.”
“I don’t want to see nobody,” a voice answered harshly.
The blind man said, “Lady, left,” and followed the dog into the cell. Joe saw a disheveled youth who sat scowling upon a cot. At sight of them he arose with an air of bravado. The cell door closed.
“What’s the idea?” the harsh voice demanded. “Trying to scare me with a dog?”
“Nobody’s trying to scare you, Jud. Don’t you remember me? I’m Dr. Stone.”
“Another cop?”
“No,” the blind man said gently; “your friend. And here’s another friend—Joe Morrow. You ought to remember Joe. He was only a little tyke then, and always followed you when you brought the cows in from pasture.”
Joe saw the hard eyes waver. At that moment Jud Cory looked, not the murderous gangster, but a frightened, bewildered, sick-souled boy.