You will have no
opportunity to talk with the prisoners. They will keep you by
yourself."
He answered, "My Father will be with me." And gazing into the face
of the sergeant, he demanded, "Do you think you can build a cell to
which my Father cannot come?"
The officer was an old hand, with a fringe of grey hair around his
bald head, and no doubt he had been asked many queer questions in
his day. His response was to inquire the prisoner's name; and when
the prisoner kept haughty silence, he wrote down "John Doe
Carpenter," and proceeded: "Where do you live?"
Said Carpenter: "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have
nests, but he that espouses the cause of justice has no home in a
world of greed."
So the sergeant wrote: "No address," and nodded to a jailer, who
took the prophet by the arm and led him away through a steel-barred
door.
Abell and I went outside and joined the rest of the group. None of
us knew just what to do--with the exception of Everett, who sat on
the steps with his notebook, and made me repeat to him word for word
what Carpenter had said!
XLIX
Comrade Abell told us where the police-court was located, and we
agreed to be there at nine o'clock next morning.
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