CHAPTER VII.
HOW TOMASO HELPED HIS FRIENDS IN TROUBLE—THE SKIRMISH IN THE
PRISON—MATHIAS THE BRIGAND.
Tomaso, before the day was over, changed his garments and abandoned crutch and stick, and when he turned out with flaxen-dyed hair and spectacles, and presented himself at the other great entrance of the prison, as a German traveller who desired to go over the place, no one could possibly have imagined it to be the old cripple whose paternal lamentation had so touched the doorkeeper's heart.
"You have got here a notorious brigand, as I have heard tell," said the visitor.
"We have, sir," was the governor's reply; "a very remarkable man he is, too."
"Ah, so I have heard," said the visitor. "He is called Demetrius, I believe?"
"Nay; his name is Mathias."
The visitor looked surprised at this information.
"Mathias—Mathias!" he repeated to himself. "I was misinformed, then. I certainly thought that his name was Demetrius."
The governor smiled.
"You may be right, all the same," said he.
"How so?"
"Why, Mathias is but his avowed name; he may be known by a dozen different aliases."
"Is it possible?" ejaculated the sham German traveller.
"Indeed it is. These robbers are mostly adepts at disguise. Would you like to see this Mathias?" demanded the governor, courteously.
"Vastly."
"Well, sir, I'll only warn you of one thing."
"Indeed! What is it?"
"A disappointment awaits you in this."
"How so?"
"Instead of seeing a ferocious fellow, such as you might expect, Mathias is really a very pleasant and innocent-looking man."
The governor of the prison then led the visitors through the long stone corridors of the place where Mathias was confined.
They stopped before a door of great thickness, heavily barred, and studded with iron bolts and nails.
The governor tapped at a small grated trap in the door, and it was pulled aside.
At the grating a broad-shouldered fellow appeared, who touched his cap at the visitors.
"So that is Mathias," said the German gentleman.
"No, no," said the governor; "that is the gaoler who is shut up with him."
"What for?"
"So that he might be watched night and day; the authorities have doomed him to—"
"To what?"
"To death," replied the governor, in a low but impressive voice.
"He is young."
"In years, yes," answered the governor, "but old in crime. This man has been guilty of nearly every crime under the sun—brigandage is one of his least offences. His last exploit, however, is the worst."
"What is that?"
"Murder."
"Murder!"
And the German traveller looked inexpressibly shocked.
"Murder is a capital crime in every land."
"And rightly too," said the visitor, "rightly, too. But, sir, excuse my curiosity—"
"Ask all you will," returned the governor.
"This man had, I was told, a bold, dashing fellow to second him in all his exploits."
"An Italian?"
"No."
"An Englishman?"
"No, no, sir, you mistake; I mean a Greek—a handsome, dashing fellow—a great favourite with the ladies—brave and daring."
"And how is this Apollo called?"
"Tomaso."
The governor burst into a loud fit of laughter at this,
"You are altogether mistaken about that brigand—that Tomaso. He is a scrubby and ill-favoured scamp—a sneaking, crawling rascal, capable of all the villany of his master, but not possessed of his courage."
Had the governor been looking at the visitor's face just then, he might have had his suspicions aroused.
The sham German philanthropist glared ferociously as this description was given.
The prisoner, who was seated at a rough deal table at the further end of the cell, here arose at the gaoler's order, and came to the window.
A single glance sufficed to show that a very noticeable change had taken place in the appearance of Mathias.
His face was pale and haggard, and the whole of one side of it, the eye, cheek bone, and forehead were bruised.
This was the mark that Jefferson had set upon him.
This was the bold American's only vengeance for the deathblow which the brigand had dealt upon his faithful friend and companion Magog Brand.
Jefferson's right arm came down like a steam hammer, and any man who had felt its full force as the scoundrel Mathias had did not forget it very readily.
Such a desperate shaking had it given Mathias that he had not yet recovered.
The bold, defiant bearing of the man was gone, and he looked ten years older than when Tomaso and he had last met.
It struck the visitor at once.
"Dear, dear me," exclaimed the latter, "is it possible that this can be the redoubtable Mathias?"
"It is he," said the governor, "yet scarcely so gay as is his wont, eh, Mathias?"
The prisoner shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
"Laugh on, your excellency," he said, rather bitterly, "it is your turn now."
"Now!"
"Aye, now. It may not always be."
"Why, surely you never think of getting out of this?"
"Indeed, I think of nothing else morning, noon, and night."
The governor gave a sharp glance about.
He looked toward the gaoler.
Now the gaoler was a huge fellow, over six feet high and broad in proportion, one who could have tackled Toro himself, as far as weight and sheer brute strength went.
"Your excellency," replied Mathias, "when I leave this place, my exit will be due to no violence. Bad as I am, I am not altogether what they would make out."
"Poor Mathias!" said the governor ironically, "one would almost think that murder was not his line of business."
"Your excellency," said the prison, drawing near to the grated window, "I repent sincerely of that poor little gentleman's death; it was no assassin's stab in the dark, but a most unfortunate blow in a fight, remember."
"Bravo! Mathias! bravo!" ejaculated the visitor.
The prisoner looked up.
A strange expression flitted across his face.
Mathias was an adept in the art of dissimulation, and his face was schooled to tell neither more nor less than he wished.
"Now, your excellency," said the visitor, "this rascal appears strangely self-possessed."
"He does."
"What does it mean?"
"Brag."
"Humph!"
"Ah, you do not know him, sir, as well as I do."
"Perhaps not; but it might just be possible that he is in league with some of his comrades outside."
The governor smiled incredulously.
"Impossible."
"What if that scoundrel, Tomaso, of whom we were speaking, should be at work?"
The prisoner's eyes glistened at this word.
A slight flash of intelligence passed between the prisoner and the visitor.
It was but momentary, and so slight as to be utterly unobserved by either the gaoler or the governor.
"And if such could be the case, sir, what could he possibly do, eh? What on earth, that's what I ask."
"There's no saying."
"Indeed you're right."
"Only he ought to be well guarded when you change him from one prison to another, or—"
"Stop, stop, my dear sir, why change him? He will never leave this place alive," said the governor.
"Never?"
"Never!"
"But surely you don't keep your prisoners all confined in these stifling places?"
"We do, though."
"And never let them breathe the air? Why, it is torture."
"They do breathe the air. At noon every day they are allowed to walk for an hour in the prison yard."
"At noon?"
"At noon."
The visitor fixed his eyes strangely upon the prisoner.
"Very good; if I may be allowed to trespass again, I should like to see how this fellow bears himself in the yard amongst his fellow-criminals."
"By all means."
"I'll come, then, at noon."
* * * * *
At noon next day the German traveller was as good as his word.
The governor, full of his wonted courtesy, accompanied him to the yard, where all the prisoners were walking round two and two.
Some of the more desperate men were fastened by a single handcuff to the wrist of another man—a warder.
Of this category was the brigand Mathias.
His companion was a huge fellow, who topped him by a head and shoulders, and their wrists were linked securely together by a strong—if slender—pair of handcuffs.
The visitor's countenance fell when he observed this.
It upset all his plans at one fell swoop.
However, he did not utterly despair, but made an effort to get over the difficulty.
"Your excellency," said he, "this is indeed cruel."
"What," demanded the governor, "fastening them to the gaoler?"
"Yes."
"I only order it in special cases, such as that of Mathias."
"He is then very dangerous?"
"Well, I scarcely believe that, only such precautions are the established rules."
"I regret that."
"Why?"
"Partly on the score of humanity," was the reply.
"Ah, you would be too tender-hearted," said the governor.
"No. But I also regret it because I hoped to see the brigand more like he appears when not under restraint. I suppose you would not like to set him free?"
The governor shook his head.
"That is against custom, and I should really not like to do it."
The visitor reflected a moment as they walked on.
He could not abandon his scheme now that he had gone so far.
The effort should be made all the same.
They walked up to the porter's lodge beside the gates, where an eager crowd had assembled for a glimpse of the prisoners.
"And do you open those gates to admit the prisoners?" asked the visitor innocently.
"No, sir," replied the governor; "this little side door is all we open. Now watch how it is done. This bar, which is like a lever, stops the door, and renders it immovable, now—hah!"
The fallacy of his words was shown ere they were fairly uttered.
The visitor whistled in a very peculiar way.
And there was a sudden silent rush at the door in question.
The bar, immovable as it was, fell before that desperate onslaught, and the door was carried off its hinges.
The ragged and miserable-looking mob turned like magic into a crowd of armed desperadoes. And in they pressed.
On they came, tearing down the gates and dashing every thing before them.
The poor gatekeeper was trampled under foot, and the warders and governor got hustled and cruelly handled.
The mob of armed invaders made for Mathias and his companion, and bore them bodily outside the gates.
The brigands then wrenched off the handcuffs.
Once outside the gates, a horse was found waiting.
Suddenly there was a loud cry heard.
"The soldiers—the soldiers!"
The whole of the guard-room had turned out.
A charge was made, and it looked as though the rescue of Mathias were likely to cost them dear.
Cries of defiance and rage were heard.
Just when matters were at the worst for the robber band, a deafening explosion was heard, that shook the solid building to its base.
The soldiers turned back and re-formed at their officer's command.
Then it was that the brigands, headed by the sham visitor, Tomaso, found their chance.
Up till now, the retreat had been cut off by the unpleasant appearance of the military.
"There goes the powder keg under the water gate," cried Tomaso. "Lose not a moment. Follow me."
A desperate rush was made, and the brigands got clear of the prison.
The soldiers were divided into two lots, one party being sent in pursuit, the other remaining to guard the prison.
The roll-call of the prisoners made this discovery.
"How many prisoners have escaped?" inquired the governor.
"Three absentees, your excellency," said the head man of the prison. "One is an Italian, calling himself Toro; another an Englishman, calling himself Hunston; and the third, the brigand chief Mathias."