Mr. Driscoll passed through the door, held open by the officer. Outside he turned about and growled through the bars: "Now don't be blowing up any more buildings!"
Tom, stung anew, would have retorted in kind, but Mr. Driscoll's footsteps had died away down the corridor before adequate words came to him.
It was about an hour later that the officer appeared before his cell again and unlocked his door. "Come on," he said shortly.
Tom, supposing he was at length to be removed to the county jail, put on his hat and stepped outside the cell. He had expected to find policemen in the corridor, and to be handcuffed. But the officer was alone.
Two cells away he saw Jake's malignant face peering at him through the bars. "I guess this puts us about even!" Jake called out.
Tom shook his fist. "Wait till the trial! We'll see!" he cried vengefully.
"Shut up, youse!" shouted the surly watchman. He pushed Tom through the corridor and up a stairway. At its head Tom was guided through a door, and found himself in the general hall of the police station.
"Here youse are," said the officer, starting for the sergeant's desk. "Come on and sign the bail bond."
Tom caught his arm. "What's this mean?" he cried.
"Don't youse know? Youse're bailed out."