He was preparing to return home, when Chaffey, the constable, came to him with a message from Sandy Flash. The latter begged for an interview, and both Judge and Sheriff were anxious that Gilbert should comply with his wishes, in the hope that a full and complete confession might be obtained. It was evident that the highwayman had accomplices, but he steadfastly refused to name them, even with the prospect of having his sentence commuted to imprisonment for life. Gilbert did not hesitate a moment. There were doubts of his own to be solved,--questions to be asked, which Sandy Flash could alone answer. He followed the constable to the gloomy, high-walled jail-building, and was promptly admitted by the Sheriff into the low, dark, heavily barred cell, wherein the prisoner sat upon a wooden stool, the links of his leg-fetters passed through a ring in the floor. Sandy Flash lifted his face to the light, and grinned, but not with his old, mocking expression. He stretched out his hand which Gilbert took,--hard and cold as the rattling chain at his wrist. Then, seating himself with a clash upon the floor, he pushed the stool towards his visitor, and said,-- “Set down, Potter. Limited accommodations, you see. Sheriff, you needn't wait; it's private business.” The Sheriff locked the iron door behind him, and they were alone. “Potter,” the highwayman began, “you see I'm trapped and done for, and all, it seems, on account o' that little affair o' your'n. You won't think it means much, now, when I say I was in the wrong there; but I swear I was! I had no particular spite ag'in Barton, but he's a swell, and I like to take such fellows down; and I was dead sure you were carryin' his money, as you promised to.” “Tell me one thing,” Gilbert interrupted; “how did you know I promised to take money for him?” “I knowed it, that's enough; I can give you, word for word, what both o' you said, if you doubt me.” “Then, as I thought, it was Barton himself!” Gilbert cried. Sandy Flash burst into a roaring laugh. “_Him!_ Ah-ha! you think we go snacks, eh? Do I look like a fool? Barton'd give his eye-teeth to put the halter round my neck with his own hands! No, no, young man; I have ways and ways o' learnin' things that you nor him'll never guess.” His manner, even more than his words, convinced Gilbert Barton was absolved, but the mystery remained. “You won't deny that you have friends?” he said. “Maybe,” Sandy replied, in a short, rough tone. “That's nothin' to you,” he continued; “but what I've got to say is, whether or no you're a friend to Deb., she thinks you are. Do you mean to look after her, once't in a while, or are you one o' them that forgits a good turn?” “I have told her,” said Gilbert, “that she shall always have a home and a shelter in my house. If it's any satisfaction to you, here's my hand on it!”