"Painted the woodwork outside, and I believe about seven years ago a new system of plumbing was put in."
"Ah!" said the prisoner. "How far is the river over there?"
"About three hundred feet. The boys have a baseball ground between the wall and the river." The Thinking Machine had nothing further to say just then, but when the jailer was ready to go he asked for some water.
"I get very thirsty here," he explained. "Would it be possible for you to leave a little water in a bowl for me?"
"I'll ask the warden," replied the jailer, and he went away.
Half an hour later he returned with water in a small earthen bowl.
"The warden says you may keep this bowl," he informed the prisoner. "But you must show it to me when I ask for it. If it is broken, it will be the last."
"Thank you," said The Thinking Machine. "I shan't break it."
The jailer went on about his duties. For just the fraction of a second it seemed that The Thinking Machine wanted to ask a question, but he didn't.
Two hours later this same jailer, in passing the door of Cell No. 13, heard a noise inside and stopped. The Thinking Machine was down on his hands and knees in a corner of the cell, and from that same corner came several frightened squeaks. The jailer looked on interestedly.