"Tell me," I said, "how it was that your thumping brought such a quick response."
"I signalled in the code of knocking known to all jailers," he said.
I expressed my amazement and incredulity.
"Don't you fool yourself," he said. "There is a certain sort of mutual understanding between executioners and jailers on the one hand and criminals on the other. There must be a give and take in all trades, even between man-hunters and hunted men. They were on the watch for any signal I might give, if it really meant anything. They were pleased to hear. You'll see the results promptly."
In fact, after no long interval, the trap-door was lifted again and a rope lowered, up which Crispinillus was bidden to climb.
He embraced me time after time, saying that we should never set eyes on each other again and that, confession or no confession, he knew his doom was not far off; but he wanted me, as long as I lived, to remember the gratitude of Nona's husband, his thankfulness for my treatment of his family and his efforts to requite the service.
"Keep up a good heart, lad," he said. "You won't be long here alone in the dark, and you'll soon be as coddled and pampered as a man can be. Long life to you and good luck and may you be soon married and raise a fine family. Peace of mind and prosperity to you and yours and a green old age to you!"
And he climbed the rope, hand over hand, like the best sailor on Libo's yacht.