Kendall could tell at once by Cowperwood's simple 
manner, his direct, unaffected glance that he was sane and 
wise and that he was looking, in a forceful way, to be 
unobtrusive and not to give offense. 
Cowperwood stood in the middle of the room without 
apparently looking at any one or anything, though he saw 
all. "Convict number 3633," Kendall called to a clerk, 
handing him at the same time a yellow slip of paper 
on which was written Cowperwood's full name and his 
record number, counting from the beginning of the peni- 
tentiary itself. 
The underling, a convict, whose name was Magerson, 
took it and entered it in a book, reserving the slip at the 
same time for the penitentiary " runner " or " trusty, " 
who would eventually take Cowperwood to the " manners " 
"You will have to take off your clothes and take a 
bath," said Mr. Kendall to Cowperwood, solemnly, eying 
him curiously. " I don't suppose you need one, but it's 
the rule." 
"Thank you," replied Cowperwood, pleased that his 
personality was counting for something even here. " What- 
ever the rules are, I want to obey." 
Mr. Kendall made no comment, seeing that Cowperwood
was a prisoner. He realized that he was dealing with his
superior, mentally and socially, but Cowperwood was
beneath him here, and that was enough. When Cowper-
wood started to take off his coat, however, he put up his
hand delayingly and tapped a bell. There now issued
from an adjoining room an assistant, a prison servitor,
a weird-looking specimen of the genus " trusty." He was
a small, dark, lop-sided individual, one leg being slightly
shorter, and therefore one shoulder lower, than the other.
He was hollow-chested, squint-eyed, and rather 
bling, but spry enough withal. He was dressed in a thin,
poorly made, baggy suit of striped jeans, the prison stripes
of the place, showing a soft roll-collar shirt underneath,