"Haven't I told you?" said the turnkey. "Hark ye! at one in the morning, be dressed and ready. However hard I lock that door just now, you will find it open then. Walk out. Turn to the right along the passage. You will come to a door; it will be open too. You will find a man beyond it who won't see you. Don't you see him. Walk straight on till you find another man, who'll go on before you. Follow him as far as he goes. There you'll find a horse and your people, and when they've paid the other two hundred, you can ride away."
He waited for no reply, but, turning away from the prisoner, quitted the cell, taking more than ordinary care in locking the door behind him, and making a good deal of noise about it.
On the following day, at about ten minutes before ten o'clock--when a good deal of bustle and excitement was visible in the prison, in consequence of the preparations for bringing the prisoners for trial rapidly into the court--the deputy sheriff presented himself at the gate and demanded to see Mr. Ralph Woodhall, announcing, with an important air, that a free pardon under the broad seal had been received by the high sheriff, and was then in his possession.
"Quick work, Master Deputy," said the turnkey, who was standing beside the porter; "condemned yesterday at seven, sentenced at nine, and pardoned this morning before ten. But come along; you'll like to give him the news yourself, I dare say, for you may get something for your pains. He doesn't want the stuff, and has paid well enough considering. We haven't been in this morning yet, for he said he'd like to sleep till twelve, seeing he'd a hard day's work of it yesterday."
Thus saying, he led him away along the passages of the prison to one of the condemned cells. When he put the key in the door, however, it would not turn, and he exclaimed, with a great oath, "Why, it's unlocked!"
So it proved, and the cell empty.
Nothing could exceed the horror and consternation expressed by the turnkey. He called the watchman who sat in the passage, and insinuated that he had unlocked the door and let the prisoner escape. The watchman repelled the charge with every appearance of indignation, asked how he could unlock the door when he hadn't the keys, and vowed he hadn't left the passage a minute except when he went to call the doctor for John Philips, who had fallen into a fit, and was screaming like a madman.
"Ay, he must have got out just then," said the turnkey. "How he picked the lock I don't know. I locked it fast enough last night, I'm sure."
"I saw and heard you," said the watchman.
"Ay, he's been well supplied from outside," said the turnkey, pointing to the fetters which lay upon the floor of the cell; "you see he has filed the irons right through."