He gaped at it, his eyes round.
“’I’d give this to the guy who could tell me how to get that girl out,” I said.
He hesitated, then shrugged. “I wish I could, but it just ain’t possible.” He edged his chair forward. “I’ll tell you why. You’ve got to get in. That’s the first step. They’ve got dogs, searchlights and guards. Maybe you’ve seen the place ? There aint a scrap of cover around the jail for five hundred yards… just sand. The searchlights light up the whole of the expanse of
sand, and there ain’t a chance of you getting to the gate without being seen.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s suppose we do get up to the gate. What next?”
“But you won’t get to the gate,” he said impatiently.
“Just suppose we do. Go on from there.”
He shrugged. “The guard at the gate checks your credentials. No one except the doctor or a police official is allowed near the place now they’ve got her. They know you’re smart and they’re taking no chances. Coppinger had a hell of a time getting in.”
“Well, okay. Let’s imagine the doctor goes there. He gets in. Then what happens?”
“The guard hands him over to another guard who unlocks the second door, and the doc is escorted to his office. He can’t go anywhere else in the prison, unless someone’s ill. When that dame died this morning, he was escorted to her cell by a guard and the Head Wardress.”