Pale moonbeams threw a faint light upon the long dusky corridor, and filled it with wild, uncouth, fantastic shadows.
But soon a stranger shadow still—it moved—it glided silently by the wall.
A key turned softly in the lock—a door opened by inches—two shadows floated across the floor.
Another door opened—this time with more noise—it was the door of the corridor.
The moonbeams disappeared. All was dark in the prison—dark and impenetrable us a demon’s mind: dark and gloomy as a lost soul’s despair.
That night the tolling of the deep-toned bell awoke the frightened inhabitants of Clickbourne from their sleep. It was the alarm bell of the gaol—one of the prisoners had escaped.
The dulcet voice of a woman proved to be a more potent agent than the brawny arms of Murdock the pirate.
CHAPTER CXX.
DEATH OF MAT MURDOCK—THE LAST BEQUEST.
The extraordinary and unaccountable manner in which the prisoner in cell No. 43 had contrived to get clear of the prison walls was, of course, a matter of surprise to everyone, and a considerable amount of blame and censure fell upon persons who were not in any way concerned in it.