“Ah, ah,” he muttered, “I did not reckon on this, but I am glad I made the discovery. This is a hound that does not bark; I must act with caution.”
He resolved to begin work as soon as it was dark, and watched the shadows one by one as they fell through the little window upon the door of the cell.
Having matured his plans he was burning to put them into practice.
When once outside the walls of his prison-house he would be safe.
So he thought and fondly hoped; but how to get out was the question.
He waited till the turnkeys, who brought the prisoners their suppers of bread and gruel, and lighted their gas, had gone their rounds.
He then wrenched off one of the hooks, upon which his bed was suspended at night, and crept cautiously towards the door.
He was afraid to begin, for the sounds of voices met his ear, and he judged that some of the prison officials were about. He was very soon convinced of this, for the voices became more distinct.
He was constrained, therefore, to await for a more favourable opportunity.
Deeply mortified at this circumstance he heaved a deep sigh, and sat himself down upon his wooden stool.