Pierrepoint said this about Corbitt's final moments. At twenty seconds to nine the next morning, he went into the death cell. He seemed under a great strain, but he did not see stark fear in his eyes, only a more childlike worry. He was anxious to be remembered and to be accepted. "Hello, Tish," he said, not confidently. "How are you?" he was not effusive, just gave the casual warmth of his nightly greeting from behind the bar.