"If you want to know about
Mifflin, he's in jail in Port Vigor."
And then I think Andrew must have been surprised. I began to
laugh and cry simultaneously, and in my agitation I set down
the receiver.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My first impulse was to hide myself in some obscure corner
where I could vent my feelings without fear or favour. I
composed my face as well as I could before leaving the 'phone
booth; then I sidled across the lobby and slipped out of the
side door. I found my way into the stable, where good old Peg
was munching in her stall. The fine, homely smell of
horseflesh and long-worn harness leather went right to my
heart, and while Bock frisked at my knees I laid my head on
Peg's neck and cried. I think that fat old mare understood
me. She was as tubby and prosaic and middle-aged as I--but
she loved the Professor.
Suddenly Andrew's words echoed again in my mind. I had barely
heeded them before, in the great joy of my relief, but now
their significance came to me. "In jail." The Professor in
jail! That was the meaning of his strange disappearance at
Woodbridge. That little brute of a man Shirley must have
telephoned from Redfield, and when the Professor came to the
Woodbridge bank to cash that check they had arrested him.
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