“Who's that?” whispered the prisoner, from above.
“A man who wants you to escape.”
“Nay; but I have no tools.”
“What do you require?”
“I think I could do summut with a screw-driver.”
“I'll send you one up.”
The next minute a couple of small screw-drivers were passed up—part of the furniture of his gun.
Cole worked hard, but silently, for about an hour, and then he whispered down that he should be able to get a bar out. But how high was it from the ground?
“About forty feet.”
Coventry heard the man actually groan at the intelligence.