"I don't know—he may be the governor; but this I do know, for the honour of freemasonry, we may trust him and all like him; so just mind your own business, Tom."
"He said he would be here at dark," observed Newton.
"Yes,—I must prepare—go to the grating, some of you, that they may not look in upon me."
This unexpected prospect of deliverance created an anxious joy in the breasts of the prisoners; the day appeared interminable. At last, the shades of night set in, and a clouded sky with mizzling rain raised their hopes. The square in front of the prison was deserted, and the sentinel crouched close against the door, which partially protected him from the weather. In a few minutes a person was heard in conversation with the sentinel. "He must be coming now," observed Collins in a low tone; "that must be one of his assistants who is taking off the attention of the gens d'arme."
"Make no noise," said a voice in a whisper, at the outside of the bars.
"I am here," replied Collins, softly.
"How can you get out of the prison?"
"Get the sentry out of the way when we leave off singing; the bars will then be removed."
"Everything is prepared outside. When you get out, keep close under the wall to the right. I shall be at the corner, if I am not here."
The freemason then retired from the grating.