Yollop | Page 7

unfeelin' world where we got to either steal or starve to
death? There wouldn't be one tenth as much stealin' and murderin' as
there is if they didn't force us into it. Why, doggone it, I've seen some
of the most cruel and pitiful sights you ever heard of up there at Sing
Sing. Fellers leadin' a perfectly honest life suddenly chucked out into a
world full of vice and iniquity and forced--absolutely forced,--into a
life of crime. There they were, livin' a quiet, peaceful life, harmin'
nobody, and bing! they wake up some mornin' and find themselves
homeless. Do you realize what that means, Mr. Strumpet? It means--"
"Yollop, if you please."
"It means they got to go out and slug some innocent citizen, some poor
guy that had nothing whatever to do with drivin' them out, and then if
they happen to be caught they got to go through with all the uncertainty
of a trial by jury, never knowin' but what some pin-headed juror will
stick out for acquittal and make it necessary to go through with it all
over again. And more than that, they got to listen to the testimony of a

lot of policemen, and their own derned fool lawyers, tryin' to deprive
them of their bread and butter, and the judge's instructions that nobody
pays any attention to except the shorthand reporter,--and them just
settin' there sort of helpless and not even able to say a word in their
own behalf because the law says they're innocent till they're proved
guilty,-- why, I tell you, Mr. Dewlap, it's heart-breakin'. And all
because some weak-minded smart aleck gets them paroled. As I was
sayin', the law's all right if it wasn't for the people that abuse it."
"This is most interesting," said Mr. Yollop. "I've never quite
understood why ninety per cent of the paroled convicts go back to the
penitentiary so soon after they've been liberated."
"Of course," explained Mr. Smilk, "there are a few that don't get back.
That's because, in their anxiety to make good, they get killed by some
inexperienced policeman who catches 'em comin' out of somebody's
window or--"
"By the way, Cassius, let me interrupt you. Will you have a cigar? Nice,
pleasant way to pass an hour or two--beg pardon?"
"I was only sayin', if you don't mind I'll take one of these cigarettes.
Cigars are a little too heavy for me."
"I have some very light grade domestic--"
"I don't mean in quality. I mean in weight. What's the sense of wastin' a
lot of strength holding a cigar in your mouth when it requires no effort
at all to smoke a cigarette? Why, I got it all figured out scientifically.
With the same amount of energy you expend in smokin' one cigar you
could smoke between thirty and forty cigarettes, and being sort of
gradual, you wouldn't begin to feel half as fatigued as if you--"
"Did I understand you to say 'scientifically', or was it satirically?"
"I'm tryin' to use common, every-day words, Mr. Shallop," said Mr.
Smilk, with dignity, "and I wish you'd do the same."
"Ahem! Well, light up, Cassius. I think I'll smoke a cigar. When you
get through with the matches, push 'em over this way, will you? Help
yourself to those chocolate creams. There's a pound box of them at
your elbow, Oassius. I eat a great many. They're supposed to be
fattening. Help yourself." After lighting his cigar Mr. Yollop inquired:
"By the way, since you speak so feelingly I gather that you are a
paroled convict."
"That's what I am. And the worst of it is, it ain't my first offense. I

mean it ain't the first time I've been paroled. To begin with, when I was
somewhat younger than I am now, I was twice turned loose by judges
on what they call 'suspended sentences.' Then I was sent up for two
years for stealin' something or other,--I forgot just what it was. I served
my time and a little later on went up again for three years for holdin' up
a man over in Brooklyn. Well, I got paroled out inside of two years,
and for nearly six months I had to report to the police ever' so often.
Every time I reported I had my pockets full of loot I'd snitched durin'
the month, stuff the bulls were lookin' for in every pawn-shop in town,
but to save my soul I couldn't somehow manage to get myself caught
with the goods on me. Say, I'd give two years off of my next sentence if
I could cross my legs for five or ten minutes. This is gettin' worse and
worse all the--"
"You might try putting your left foot in the right hand drawer and your