“I have fought the claim, but witnesses were suborned and I cannot prove that I was in no way responsible.”
Frank whistled.
“It looks serious,” he said.
“It is serious!” declared his uncle. “I have been served with legal notices, and the time limit is almost up. I must either settle or go to jail.”
“Jail?” cried Frank, stung by the word.
“Well, that’s what many persons would call it,” said his uncle, with a grim smile. “Really, it will be a federal prison, for it is the United States federal authorities who are acting against me. I won’t actually be locked up in a cell, I suppose, nor set to breaking stone, and I may not have to wear stripes. You see it is a sort of political business accusation against me.”
“But why do you have to go to jail, or to a federal prison, at all?” asked Ned. “Can’t you be bailed?”
“Too late for that after conviction. What I need now is money to continue the fight.”
“Use your own money—or ours!” cried Frank, eagerly. Both lads loved their uncle almost as a father.
“The trouble is that your money and mine will be attached—held in escrow, I believe they call it—to settle for these damages in case I can not prove my innocence of having financed a revolution,” Mr. Arden declared. “So with our money tied up that way, none will be available, and I’ll have to be—well, let us call it detained—for years,” and once more he smiled grimly.