For some reason my heart gave a bound of joy. I felt sure he had come to assist me, notwithstanding all that had been said against him.
Ten minutes passed; then there was a noise on the stairs, and a moment later Squire Slocum, the jailer, and Mr. Markham appeared.
“Well, my young friend, I see they have thought best to lock you up,” remarked Mr. Markham lightly, as he stepped into the cell and extended his hand to me cordially.
“Yes, Mr. Markham, they have,” was all I could say.
He gave my hand a tight grasp.
“You are having a pile of trouble,” he went on, “and partly on my account.”
“Why, you have nothing to do with the robbery,” I put in quickly.
“No, not exactly,” he laughed; “but I have caused you trouble enough in other ways.”
“I thought you would straighten out matters some time,” I could not help replying. “I knew you were a gentleman, no matter what Mr. Webster or any one else said to the contrary.”
“Webster is a fool!” cried Mr. Markham with energy. “A downright fool, and I told him so. Just because I had a slight trouble with my bank account, brought on by my clerk, he takes it for granted that I am a swindler.”