'I suppose we go?' he said. But Lucy said, 'What about the gaoler? Won't he catch it if we bolt?'
Philip felt this might be true. It was annoying, and as bad as being put on one's honour.
'Bother!' was what he said.
And then the gaoler came in. He looked pale and worried.
'I am so awfully sorry,' he began. 'I thought I should enjoy having you here, but my nerves are all anyhow. The very sound of your voices. I can't write a line. My brain reels. I wonder whether you'd be good enough to do a little thing for me? Would you mind escaping?'
'But won't you get into trouble?'
'Nothing could be worse than this,' said the gaoler, with feeling. 'I had no idea that children's voices were so penetrating. Go, go. I implore you to escape. Only don't tell the judge. I am sure he would never forgive me.'
After that, what prisoner would not immediately have escaped?
The two children only waited till the sound of the gaoler's keys had died away on the stairs, to open their door, run down the many steps and slip out of the prison gate. They walked a little way in silence. There were plenty of people about, but no one seemed to notice them.
'Which way shall we go?' Lucy asked. 'I wish we'd asked him where the Charitables live.'