"Great!" said Ed Mason. He had already taken off his coat, rolled it up for a pillow, and lain down on one of the wooden benches in our cell. I was preparing to do the same. Upstairs we heard the front door slam, as Justin, and the last of the "possy," left the police-station.
"S-s-s-t!"
This came from the banjo-player's cell.
"Watch this, boys!"
I looked out the barred door of our cell, and so did Mr. Daddles and Jimmy from theirs, on the other side of the corridor. The banjo-player, holding his instrument by the head, was poking the neck of it through his door. Very carefully he managed it, and I soon saw what he was after. The big key, hanging on the wall under the lamp, was just within his reach. With the utmost care he inserted one of the keys of the banjo in the ring of the cell key, and drew it off the hook. Then holding the banjo very delicately he pulled it slowly inside the cell, until he had the key in his hands. Then he grinned out at us.
"Talk about Baron Trenck and Monte Cristo!" he said.
In a second more he had put one hand through the bars of his cell, put the key into the lock and let himself out.
"What's the matter with this,—hey, what? Another chapter in
Celebrated Escapes!"
Then he tip-toed back into his cell, and shut the door again.
"It won't do to go upstairs too soon. I'll give 'em time to get home. Then I'll get the keys to your cells,—never shall it be said of Despard D'Auvigny that he deserted his friends in misfortune! A regular jail-delivery,—what? The destruction of the Bastille was nothing to this! And we'll carry Eb's head on a pike."