sense Cowperwood wouldn't be
where he is to-day. But the big fellows wouldn't let Stener alone. They
wouldn't let him give Cowperwood any money."

Although Strobik had been one of those who, under pressure from
Mollenhauer, had advised Stener not to let Cowperwood have any more
money, yet here he was pointing out the folly of the victim's course.
The thought of the inconsistency involved did not trouble him in the
least.

Desmas decided, therefore, that if Cowperwood were persona non grata to
the "Big Three," it might be necessary to be indifferent to him, or at
least slow in extending him any special favors. For Stener a good chair,
clean linen, special cutlery and dishes, the daily papers, privileges
in the matter of mail, the visits of friends, and the like. For
Cowperwood--well, he would have to look at Cowperwood and see what he
thought. At the same time, Steger's intercessions were not without their
effect on Desmas. So the morning after Cowperwood's entrance the warden
received a letter from Terrence Relihan, the Harrisburg potentate,
indicating that any kindness shown to Mr. Cowperwood would be duly
appreciated by him. Upon the receipt of this letter Desmas went up and
looked through Cowperwood's iron door. On the way he had a brief talk
with Chapin, who told him what a nice man he thought Cowperwood was.

Desmas had never seen Cowperwood before, but in spite of the shabby
uniform, the clog shoes, the cheap shirt, and the wretched cell, he was
impressed. Instead of the weak, anaemic body and the shifty eyes of the
average prisoner, he saw a man whose face and form blazed energy and
power, and whose vigorous erectness no wretched clothes or conditions
could demean. He lifted his head when Desmas appeared, glad that any
form should have appeared at his door, and looked at him with large,
clear, examining eyes--those eyes that in the past had inspired so
much confidence and surety in all those who had known him. Desmas was
stirred. Compared with Stener, whom he knew in the past and whom he had
met on his entry, this man was a force. Say what you will, one vigorous
man inherently respects another. And Desmas was vigorous physically. He
eyed Cowperwood and Cowperwood eyed him. Instinctively Desmas liked him.
He was like one tiger looking at another.

Instinctively Cowperwood knew that he was the warden. "This is Mr.
Desmas, isn't it?" he asked, courteously and pleasantly.

"Yes, sir, I'm the man," replied Desmas