CHAPTER XXIX
Jailbird
THE period of restraint in durance vile suffered by one Thomas Barcus proved in the upshot far more brief than had been fondly hoped not only by his just judge but, singularly enough, by the misdemeanant himself.
"Ten days' rest will do me no harm," he assured himself. So meditating, he committed himself, body and soul, to the sleep he so sorely needed. But his rest was to be by no means so long. He was sentenced at 10 a. m., and it was little short of 10 p. m. of the same day when his repose was disturbed by the rattle of a key in the lock of the door to his cell.
Sitting up, Mr. Barcus rubbed his eyes and combed his hair with his fingers.
"What did I tell you?" he observed resignedly. "It begins again already. …"
He was conducted to the presence of the judge himself, who at once ordered his release.
"If only you had told me you were a friend of Mr. Digby's," the judge hastened to say as soon as the
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