CHAPTER XXIII.

_The Reconciliation._--_Bucholz makes an Important Revelation._--_Sommers obtains His Liberty and leaves the Jail._

It is a truism almost as old as Time itself, that true love is never fully known until after the lovers have once quarreled and made their peace. The kiss of reconciliation after a temporary estrangement is frequently more potent than the first declaration of affection.

Nor was the rule disproved in the present case, and as the two men clasped hands upon the renewal of their seeming friendship, the crisis of their intercourse was reached. The separation of the past few days had shown Bucholz the necessity of a friendly voice and a friendly hand. The guilty secret which he had been keeping so long in his heart must find utterance--it had become heavy to bear. From this day forth all the concealment which he had practiced upon Sommers were to be swept away before the tide of this reconciling influence.

Hereafter they were to stand face to face, acknowledged criminals, whose joint interest was to secure their liberty; whose only object was to effect their escape from the meshes of the law they had outraged, and which now seemed to envelop them so completely.

No protestations of innocence or acknowledgments of guilt were necessary--the bedrock of an implicit and instinctive understanding had been reached, and each looked upon the other as fellow prisoners who were to suffer for their misdeeds, unless some potent agency intervened for their preservation.

From the nature of their intercourse preceding this event, Sommers did not entertain a single doubt of the guilt of William Bucholz. His avoidance of the matter while in conversation; the confusion which marked his demeanor as Sommers conveyed to him indirectly or otherwise his belief that he knew more of the murder than he had as yet admitted, and his weak denials--all went very far to confirm him in the belief that William Bucholz, and him alone, was connected intimately and actively with the tragedy.

At the interview which followed their reconciliation, Sommers appeared to be very much depressed, and gave his companion to understand that all his hopes of being admitted to bail had been disappointed on account of the failure of his attorney--who was also acting for Bucholz--to have the amount reduced, and of the inability of the friends upon whom he relied to furnish the large sum required.

He also complained that the jailer had opened one of his letters and had discovered the fact that his relations were respectable people, who moved in good society, and who were as yet ignorant of his perilous and degrading situation. He was fearful that they would learn of his true condition unless he was enabled soon to effect his release. He regretted this fact particularly, because it prevented him from a.s.sisting his friend, who needed so much the services of some one to act in his behalf, which service, despite the previous doubts that had been entertained of him, he was still willing but unable to render.

The disappointment of Bucholz was no less acute than that of his companion. He had counted so securely upon the release of Sommers, in order to enlist his services for his own safety, that the effect of this unpleasant information was painful to witness.

At length, unable further to control himself, he threw his arms around Sommers, crying out:

"Oh, I wish I could only get out one night, one single night, then I could give you five hundred dollars, and all would be right!"

"That is easily said," replied Sommers, despondingly, "but if you did get out, where could you get the money?"

"I am speaking the truth," said Bucholz. "If you wanted five thousand, I could give it to you, if I was only out one night. I could tell you a secret that would open your eyes, but as long as you are here I can do you no good, and you cannot help me."

Sommers, who was reclining upon the bed, raised himself upon his hand, and looking Bucholz in the face with a knowing smile, said:

"I suppose you would lift old Schulte's treasure!"

Bucholz started slightly, but he had gone too far to retreat, and he admitted at once that if he could get out, he knew where the money of the murdered man was hid, and that no one beside himself possessed the knowledge.

There was an instantaneous gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of Sommers as this information was conveyed to him, and he determined to secure his release at all hazards. New life seemed to be infused into him, and there was a glow of excitement in his ordinarily pallid face that told of the agitation of his mind.

He jumped from the bed, and facing his companion, said:

"I will get out of this if it is in the power of human effort to accomplish it. I will write to my friend at once, and no time shall be lost in the attempt."

This change in his manner soon communicated itself to Bucholz, and in a short time, under the influence of this new-born hope, their conversation a.s.sumed a more cheerful strain, and bright pictures of the future were indulged in.

Active measures were at once begun, the friends of Sommers were written to; another interview was had with the State's attorney, and sufficient reasons were offered for a reduction in the amount of the bail under which he was held.

Mr. Olmstead, after listening to the statements made to him, agreed to the reduction asked for, and in a few days the necessary forms were gone through with. The requisite amount of money was deposited with the Court, and everything was in readiness for the release of Edward Sommers from his place of confinement.

The information was conveyed to Bucholz and Sommers, while they were walking up and down the corridor during the hours in which they were released from their cells, and the effect was observable upon the faces of both. Bucholz, while rejoicing in the accomplishment of a result that would prove of incalculable benefit to himself, was none the less reluctant as the time approached, to part with the friend who had brightened many gloomy hours, and whose intercourse had produced such a beneficial change upon his spirits and disposition.

He seemed loth, now that they were about to be separated, to utter the parting word, but as he thought of the advantage which this release would be to him, he a.s.sumed a cheerful demeanor, and appeared rejoiced at his speedy deliverance.

Their leave-taking was of the most friendly character, and after bestowing upon Bucholz the various articles which his cell contained, and many delicacies which had been received during his imprisonment, Sommers prepared to leave the prison.

Clasping the hand of Bucholz, he whispered:

"Courage, William. I will see you often, and between us we will succeed in our undertaking yet."

Saying which, and after a cordial parting salutation from the genial and pleasant jailer, Mr. Wells, the doors of the prison were unlocked, and Edward Sommers walked out into the bright sunshine and inhaled the sweet fragrance of a beautiful spring morning--a free man.

CHAPTER XXIV.

_Sommers returns to Bridgeport._--_An Interview with Mr.

Bollman._--_Sommers allays the Suspicions of Bucholz's Attorney, and engages him as his own Counsel._

The cold, bleak winds of March had yielded to the warm and invigorating showers of April, and these had brought forth the bright flowers and fragrant gra.s.ses that grew and blossomed on this beautiful May morning, when Edward Sommers left the confining walls of the prison at Bridgeport. More than two months had elapsed since he entered its frowning portals to commence the isolated life of a prisoner, and a sigh of grateful relief escaped him as he gazed around upon the brightness and beauty of the scene that was spread before him.

There was but little time given him for indulgence in these soothing and agreeable reveries. There was work for him to do, and he must summon up all his energies for the task before him. His release had been accomplished, and the promised revelation of Bucholz would be made to him in a few days, but he must visit those who had an interest in his welfare, and to whom he was responsible for his actions. He would also be enabled during the few days of rest to strengthen his shattered nerves and prepare himself for the important duties which would soon devolve upon him. He therefore took the train for New York and arrived there in due time.

To William Bucholz the absence of his friend and confidant was a severe blow, but as he realized the service he promised to perform for him, and the prospect of safety that was opening before his despairing mind, he became reconciled to his lonely fate, and waited patiently for the return of the man who was expected to devote himself to his interests.

The suspicious actions of Brown, the prisoner who had watched their movements so zealously, had not escaped the notice of both Sommers and Bucholz, and, on leaving, the former had cautioned his companion particularly and repeatedly against saying anything to him or to any one else about matters connected with his case.

At the end of three days Edward Sommers returned to Bridgeport, and, selecting a private boarding-house, he took up his abode there and prepared to carry out the plans that were to be arranged between himself and William Bucholz.

He considered it of paramount importance at the outset to disabuse the minds of the attorneys for Bucholz of any suspicion in regard to the relations existing between them, and with that end in view he paid a visit to the city of New Haven, and finding Mr. Bollman, the counsel who had acted for both of them, at his office, he engaged him for the conduct of his own case when it should come to trial.

In the course of the conversation which ensued, Mr. Bollman turned suddenly to Sommers, and said:

"Do you know, Mr. Sommers, that I have earnestly and repeatedly warned my client against you? I had reason to believe that the prosecuting attorney had placed some one in the jail to cultivate the friendship of William Bucholz, in the attempt to obtain a confession from him, and I thought you were the man. William would not listen to this, however, and I myself believe now that such is not the case as regards yourself, but I told him that he must not trust any one with whom he was a.s.sociated, nor make a confidant of any one in the prison. A man in his position, you know cannot be too careful."

Sommers listened attentively and good-humoredly to these remarks, and finally informed Mr. Bollman that he knew Bucholz had been warned against him, for he had told him so.

"But, Mr. Bollman," continued he, "you need not be afraid of me, for I have given him the same advice myself."

"Do you know of any suspicious persons in the jail?" asked Mr.

Bollman.

"I cannot tell with any certainty," replied the other; "but I do not like the looks of one of the hall men, nor of that treacherous-looking Brown, who is always spying upon the actions of the inmates of the prison. I have warned Bucholz against these men myself, and I do not think he has given them any information whatever."

After a protracted conversation, during which Sommers labored diligently and successfully to erase any latent suspicions from the mind of the attorney, Mr. Bollman at length said:

"Well, Mr. Sommers, to be candid with you, my suspicions were the most decidedly aroused when I had my interview with Mr. Olmstead, the State's attorney, about your bail. He evinced an unwillingness to reduce the amount, and expressed a belief that you had known Bucholz before you came to the jail. His manner of speaking led me to think that he knew more about you than was good for my client, and I felt sure that he had been the means of placing you in the jail to watch him."

"I quite agree with you, Mr. Bollman; it did look suspicious," said Sommers; "but Mr. Olmstead asked me the same questions when I spoke to him. I suppose he thought from our intimacy that I must have been acquainted with him before he was arrested."

With this explanation, and the ingenuous manner in which it was given, the mind of Mr. Bollman seemed to be at rest upon this subject, and their further conversation related to the case in which Sommers himself would appear as defendant, and in which Mr. Bollman was to act as his counsel.