CHAPTER XXIII.
About a week after my imprisonment, as I was sitting in the large room of the jail, occupied in observing the several persons around me, the door of the prison opened, and a well-known face presented itself to my view: it was that of Bill Keeler! He did not immediately see me, for I was at a distance from him, and there were several persons between us: he, however, looked around, evidently seeking some one. I could not doubt that this was myself, and my first impulse was to rush into his arms; but a sense of shame—a feeling of degradation—at being found in such a place withheld me. I therefore, kept my seat on the floor, and buried my face between my knees.
I sat in this position for some time, when at last I felt a hand laid on my shoulder, and the familiar voice of Bill, half whispering, said, close to my ear, “Robert—Bob—look up—I’m here!” I could not resist this, but sprang to my feet, and clasped Bill to my bosom. My feeling of shame vanished, my humiliation was forgotten for the moment, and I fully indulged the warm emotions of friendship.
Having talked over a great many things, Bill at length said, “Well, now as to this being in the jug—how do you like it?” The tears came to my eyes—my lip trembled, and I could not speak. “Oh, don’t mind it,” said he, “we’ll get you out, somehow or other.”
“Get me out—how is that to be done?” said I.
“Why, we must first know how you got in,” he replied.
“They put me in!” was my answer.
“Yes, yes,” said my friend, “but for what?”
I here related the whole story; how my negligence at the shop had brought down the fury of the old bookseller upon my head; how I had wandered forth in a state of distraction; how a thief, pursued, slipped by me, and how I was taken to be the rogue, and condemned as such. Bill listened attentively, and after I had done, looked me steadily in the face for a moment. He then clasped his hands firmly together, and said, with deep emotion, “Thank Heaven, you are innocent! I knew it was so: I told ’em it was so.” He could say no more—for his breast heaved, and the tears ran down his cheeks. He turned away as if ashamed, and hastily effacing the traces of his emotion, shook me by the hand—said he would see me again soon, and, giving me no opportunity to detain him, went away.
I did not then guess the meaning of this, or conjecture the plan he had in view; but I afterwards learned that he went straight to the city attorney, who had conducted the prosecution against me, and sought an interview. He told the lawyer his errand, and stated that as he knew I was innocent, he hoped I might be released.