Dear Johnny,—Please, as quickly as possible, procure all the money you can lay your hands on—two hundred dollars at the very least—and come bail me out. I have been arrested and compelled to languish among hostile strangers. The man with this note will guide you to the scene of my incarceration. Please hurry, because I wish to go home.
Billy.
P. S. For Heaven’s sake get a move on.
For a moment this document conveyed but little to John. He was obliged to read it a second time, and even then he stared appealingly at the messenger, who had turned and was eyeing him with feeble interest.
“They got pinched, didn’t they?” said the man, sadly.
“But what did he do? What’s happened?” John demanded. He was dazed; nothing he had ever seen or done in his life had prepared him for this.
“Why, they got run in,” explained the man.
“Here—you wait for me here.” The only thing John could think of just then was Haydock. “Or no—come into my room;” he unlocked the door and turned up the gas. “Be sure to wait,” he commanded, as he rushed out.
Claverly was locked for the night; John remembered this after rattling in vain at the three doors. Then he called under Haydock’s window. The senior answered from the square of yellow light above. He was on the point of going out anyhow, he said, and would join John below.