go hard with him if he were handled roughly; and Bonhag would strain himself to be pleasant.  The trouble was that to a shrewd man of any refinement his attentions were objectionable, being obviously offered for a purpose, and to a poor or ignorant man they were brutal and contemptuous.  He had built up an extra income for himself inside the prison by selling the prisoners extra allowances of things which he secretly brought into the prison.  It was strictly against the rules, in theory at least, to bring in anything which was not sold in the store-room—­tobacco, writing paper, pens, ink, whisky, cigars, or delicacies of any kind.  On the other hand, and excellently well for him, it was true that tobacco of an inferior grade was provided, as well as wretched pens, ink and paper, so that no self-respecting man, if he could help it, would endure them.  Whisky was not allowed at all, and delicacies were abhorred as indicating rank favoritism; nevertheless, they were brought in.  If a prisoner had the money and was willing to see that Bonhag secured something for his trouble, almost anything would be forthcoming.  Also the privilege of being sent into the general yard as a “trusty,” or being allowed to stay in the little private yard which some cells possessed, longer than the half-hour ordinarily permitted, was sold.

One of the things curiously enough at this time, which worked in Cowperwood’s favor, was the fact that Bonhag was friendly with the overseer who had Stener in charge, and Stener, because of his political friends, was being liberally treated, and Bonhag knew of this.  He was not a careful reader of newspapers, nor had he any intellectual grasp of important events; but he knew by now that both Stener and Cowperwood were, or had been, individuals of great importance in the community; also that Cowperwood had been the more important of the two.  Better yet, as Bonhag now heard, Cowperwood still had money.  Some prisoner, who was permitted to read the paper, told him so.  And so, entirely aside from Warden Desmas’s recommendation, which was given in a very quiet, noncommittal way, Bonhag was interested to see what he could do for Cowperwood for a price.

The day Cowperwood was installed in his new cell, Bonhag lolled up to the door, which was open, and said, in a semi-patronizing way, “Got all your things over yet?” It was his business to lock the door once Cowperwood was inside it.

“Yes, sir,” replied Cowperwood, who had been shrewd enough to get the new overseer’s name from Chapin; “this is Mr. Bonhag, I presume?”

“That’s me,” replied Bonhag, not a little flattered by the recognition, but still purely interested by the practical side of this encounter.  He was anxious to study Cowperwood, to see what type of man he was.

“You’ll find it a little different down here from up there,” observed Bonhag.  “It ain’t so stuffy.  These doors out in the yards make a difference.”

“Oh, yes,” said Cowperwood, observantly and shrewdly, “that is the yard Mr. Desmas spoke of.”