So speaking, he left the prisoner, who, strange to say, now began to smile and look quite elated.
“It is my last card,” said Phillip, to himself, “and I have played it. Death-wing will surely not prove a craven to one who has so much and so often befriended him. If all goes well, I may yet escape out of the clutches of this stony-hearted Captain Jack; and if I do!” he said, clenching his fist, and striking it heavily on the table—“and if I do, I’ll have revenge on him first!”
Captain Jack went his way with the note in his pocket, and as he was about to leave the prison he met the turnkey who had been speaking with Phillip.
“Hello! who gave you liberty to leave the prison, eh?”
“I only went across the road to have a drop of ale.”
“Oh, that’s nothing, eh, you rascal? Don’t you know that your prisoner is one of the most determined villains that ever lived? Keep inside, and mind your duties, and if I catch you having any chat with Redgill, or up to any nonsense with him, such as taking letters and the like, I’ll have you publicly horsewhipped, mind ye.”
“Letters?—me take letters, Captain Jack? I’d never dare to do such a thing.”
“I wouldn’t trust you further than I could see you,” was the reply. “Now go and doubly lock the prisoner’s door. If he escapes I will hang you instead, mark me.”
With these words Capt. Jack went his way, and he had not gone far when he entered a wine-shop.
“I wonder what this Redgill has said in his note. There’s no harm in opening it. I can soon seal it up again.”