Andy was led into the office of the jail and up to the desk of the official who had registered his name the day before. This man opened a drawer and pushed a package before Andy and a receipt.
“See if your money is all right,” he directed, “and sign that receipt.”
“Going to give them back to me, are you?” said Andy brightly, feeling delighted at recovering his liberty. “They must have found out that I am innocent.”
“H-m! that’s to be determined later on.”
Andy looked questioningly about the room. Who had set him free? What did it mean? Just then he caught the sound of voices in another room and the officer pointed to it.
“Your friend is in there,” he said. “He’s waiting for you.”
Andy felt as if he had wings on his feet. His heart was overflowing with gladness. He crossed the threshold of the doorway the officer had indicated, looked in, and then stood stock still, very much surprised.
“Well, young man, we’ve reached you at last?” spoke a hearty voice.
“Why, it’s Mr. Webb!” exclaimed Andy.
He had at once recognized the gentleman whom he had driven over in the automobile from Princeville to Macon, the day when all his troubles in life seemed to have begun.