The governor shook his head.
“No, my man,” he said, “that story won’t do. It is concealed somewhere, I have no doubt.”
The turnkeys turned over all the things and made another search, which was as fruitless as the first.
Their chief contemplated the window with some curiosity.
“Can’t one of you climb up to that?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir, certainly; that’s easily managed,” returned one, who, addressing his companion, said, “give us a back, Jewett.”
The latter obeyed, and the other of the turnkeys, who was the lighter of the two, sprang upon his comrade’s back and clambered up to the window.
The panes were made of fluted glass, which were very difficult to see through. In addition to this a louvre light, or “copper light,” as the prisoners call them, was hung before the window.
It was a great shade made of galvanised iron, which prevented the prisoner from seeing anything else even when the window was opened.
This, however, was never allowed. There was an express rule and punishment for climbing up to the window. The prisoners had to content themselves with the mouthful of fresh air per day which was admitted by the grating.