In the Best Families

I didn't really get acquainted with my surroundings or my mate until Monday, I was so darned sleepy when they finally finished with me down below and showed me up to my room. They had been insistent but not ferocious. I had been allowed to phone Fritz that I wouldn't be home, which was a good thing, as there was no telling what he would have done with no word from me coming on top of Wolfe's fade out, and also to try to call Nathaniel Parker, the only lawyer Wolfe has ever been willing to invite to dinner; but that was no go because he was away for the week-end. When at last I stretched out on the cot, I was dead to the world ten seconds after my head hit the pillow, consisting of my trousers wrapped in my shirt.

It was the trousers, or rather the coat and vest that went with them, that made my stay pleasanter than it might have been right from the start. I had had perhaps half as much sleep as I could have used when a hell of a noise banged at me and I lifted my head and opened my eyes. Across the cell on another cot, so far away that I would have had to stretch my arm its full length to touch him, was my cell mate-a broad-shouldered guy about my age, maybe a little older, with a mop of tousled black hair. He was sitting up, yawning.

“What's all the racket? I asked. “Jail break?

“Breakfast and check-up in ten minutes, he replied, getting his feet, with socks on, to the floor. “Stupid custom.

“Boneheads, I agreed, twisting up to sit on the edge of the cot.

Going to the chair where his wardrobe was, his glance fell on my chair, and he stepped to it for a look at the coat and vest. He fingered the lapel, looked inside at the lining, and inspected a buttonhole. Then, without comment, he returned to his side, two whole steps, and started to dress. I followed suit.

“Where do we wash? I inquired.

“After breakfast, he replied, “if you insist.

A man in uniform appeared on the other side of the bars and used his hands, and the cell door swung open.

“Wait a minute, Wilkes, my mate told him, and then asked me, “You cleaned out?

“Naturally. This is a modern jail.

“Would bacon and eggs suit you?

“Just right.

“Toast white or rye?

“White.

“Our tastes are similar. Make it two, Wilkes. Two of everything.

“As you say, the turnkey said distinctly, and went. My mate, getting his necktie under his shirt collar, told me, “They won't allow exceptions to the turnout and checkup, but you can pass up the garbage. We'll eat here in privacy.