He turned sharply and came to the door. He was a fine-looking man about forty years of age, well groomed, fresh shaven. He was tall. His hair was gray. His face was pleasant to look at. He might have been a doctor or lawyer. I found myself wondering what he could have done to get locked in a jail. He looked at me carefully for a minute. When he spoke his voice was surprisingly pleasant. There was a suggestion of the South in his drawl.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, kid, but if you are lousy don’t come in here, that’s all.”

The trusty assured George that I was not lousy, that there was no charge against me and I would be out in an hour or two.

I was locked in.

I had no jail manners then, so I just stood at the door with my hat on, intending to wait there till someone came to let me go. All prisoners do that the first time. Presently my companion told me to take my hat off and sit down, and try to be comfortable.