He considered for some little time, not knowing very well how to act; the needle would be of service, and he must obtain it by some means.
A few minutes after this he happened to drop his hymn-book. He picked it up again directly, and with it the needle, which he secreted in his shirt sleeve.
As he returned the hymn-book to the ledge of the pew, he took care to display the palms of both his hands, that no one might suppose they contained anything besides his book.
No one who knew Giles Chudley would have given him credit for possessing so much acuteness; but the situation in which he found himself called forth the latent powers of his mind, which had heretofore lain dormant.
As the convicts and other prisoners were being marshalled out of chapel, Giles blundered against the door, apparently by accident, so that it almost shut.
He took hold of the lock to swing it open again, and, in so doing, slipped the needle into the keyhole.
“Can’t you see your way out?” cried a warder.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; it was an accident,” returned Chudley.
“Forward! this way,” said the official, and the line of men marched on.
All was well so far. It was evident that the warders did not suspect that anything was amiss.