"The bill, since it was taken from the complainant, has been in charge of the court," said Conway. "I hardly think the complainant will dare to assert that it has been tampered with. And now, your honor," turning to the presiding judge, "I submit that the charge has been completely answered. We have shown that the bill tendered by my client was not the bill lost by Mr. Jones. I claim his discharge."
Squire Marlowe hesitated, but he could think of no pretext for holding Bert, since the case against him had so signally failed.
"The prisoner is discharged!" he said briefly, and rose from his seat.
Bert's friends surrounded him, and he began to fear that in their enthusiasm they would shake his hand off. It was almost as serious as being a Presidential candidate. It is needless to say, however, that Mr. Jones was not one of the friends who congratulated him. He, on the other hand, looked decidedly grumpy, and as if he had lost his best friend. He pushed his way through the crowd up to the young lawyer.
"This is all very fine, Mr. Lawyer," he said, "but will you tell me how I am to get my money back?"
"What money, Mr. Jones?"
"The twenty-dollar bill taken from my desk, of course."
"I wish I could, Mr. Jones, but I know no more than the man in the moon."
"Is that all the satisfaction I am going to get?" demanded Jones angrily.
"From me—yes. You will have to find the person who actually took the money."