But there was no leisure for regrets. He had a task to accomplish in a given time. Often he had examined the massive iron bar, wedged firmly in across the small window. If that could be removed, he might squeeze himself through; but to take out the bar, or at least to wrench it on one side, meant first to file nearly through it—quite through, indeed, for the noise of breaking it might not be risked. He could only guess what would lie on the other side, down below. The deep embrasure within, and the thickness of the wall without, prevented him from seeing.
At stated intervals the gendarmes visited him, and he could reckon upon their visits; yet he knew well that he was never secure against a sudden interruption. He had to toil in a difficult and cramped position, supporting himself in a corner of the slanting embrasure, and filing very lightly, that no sound might reach the ears of any passer-by.
He had to work at the bar in a difficult and cramped position.
One narrow escape of detection he had. Absorbed in his toil, he failed to note the preliminary click of the lock, and the door began to open. Roy flung himself to the ground, reckless of bruises, and the noise of his fall was happily lost in the creak of the door. The gendarme, entering, found a sleepy prisoner. Roy wondered that the thumping of his heart did not betray him.
Thoughtful Jean had provided him with three files. Two of them broke. The third held out to the end.
Through a good part of the night he worked, fearing lest the task should not be done in time. In the morning, after the usual visit from a gendarme, he was up again in the embrasure. Before midday he had worked his way through the heavy bar. He stirred it cautiously. Yes, it yielded. One good wrench, and it could be forced aside.
That was all he had now to do. The bar would remain in position till the latest moment. He cleared away every speck of iron filing; and then he had to go into the yard. What if the gendarmes should examine the window during his absence? What if, before Jean came, Roy himself should be removed elsewhere? Then came another question,—What if his mother's prayers were being answered?
At last the afternoon had waned, without any mischance, and the gendarme's evening call had been paid. The window had not been examined; and Roy was left for the night, with his allowance of food. He wisely disposed of it, knowing that he would need all his strength. Then he waited, minute after minute, in a suspense hardly to be described.
A slight faint whistle, close to the window.