Wilkinson shook himself and clenched his hands.
"I'm all right now," he declared, "I lost my nerve in there." After a long intake of breath, he added: "That's the last time they'll ever get me in there, the last time, mark my words, Morehead. There were times when I came near biting the bars. Think of me being locked up!" They had reached the corner of the street. He halted. "There was a chap in the cell next to mine," he went on, "who'd been sent up for five years. Think of it! He was waiting to be taken up the river any day—didn't seem to mind it, either. Five years in a place like that——"
"The machine's around on Lafayette Street," interrupted the Colonel. "I thought it better...."
"Right," declared Wilkinson. "But we don't need it yet."
Leslie turned to Colonel Morehead; her eyes were bright, her cheeks red with excitement.
"Why did my father have to stay in there; can you tell me that?" she asked.
"The bail was stupendous. I had arranged for reasonable bail; but this was unusual," the Colonel explained. "But that's not all—the surety companies had been warned."
"Warned! Did you say warned not to give bail when they were secured?" she cried.
"Warned," repeated Morehead, "not to furnish bail without being sure that they were secure."
"Who warned them?" echoed Wilkinson, incredulous.