"This looks a good deal like a cell," he mused as he gazed around.
Suddenly his eyes caught some writing on the wall in lead pencil.
He stepped over to read it.
"Josiah Crabtree put me here,
And I am feeling very queer;
He boxed my ears and pulled my hair
Oh, when I'm free won't I get square!"
"Somebody else has been here before me," thought Tom. "I rather reckon I'll get square too. Hullo, here's another Whittier or Longfellow:
"In this lock-up I'm confined;
If I stay long I'll lose my mind.
Two days and nights I've paced the floor,
As many others have before."
"I hope I don't stay two days and nights," said Tom half aloud. Then he walked to the single window of the apartment to find that it was heavily barred.
"No escaping that way," he went on to read another inscription, this time in blank verse:
"And I am jugged,
Alone in solitude, and by myself
Alone. I sit and think, and think,
And think again. Old Crabtree,
Base villain that he is, hath put me here!
And why? Ah, thereby hangs a tale, Horatio!
His teeth, the teeth that chew the best of steak
Set on our table—those I found and hid;
And Mumps, the sneak, hath told on me! Alas!
When will my martyrdom end?"
"Good for the chap who hid the teeth!" continued Tom, and smiled as he thought of the rage Crabtree must have been in when he discovered that his false teeth were gone. A rattle in the keyhole disturbed him, and he dropped onto a chair just as the head assistant again appeared.
"I want the keys to your trunk and your satchel," he said.
"What for, sir?"