“Dawes, lad, do you think there is a Heaven?”
“I know there is a Hell,” said Dawes, without turning his face.
“Ay, and a Heaven, lad. I think I shall go there. You will, old chap, for you've been good to me—God bless you, you've been very good to me.”
When Troke came in the morning he saw what had occurred at a glance, and hastened to remove the corpse of the strangled Mooney.
“We drew lots,” said Rufus Dawes, pointing to Bland, who crouched in the corner farthest from his victim, “and it fell upon him to do it. I'm the witness.”
“They'll hang you for all that,” said Troke.
“I hope so,” said Rufus Dawes.
The scheme of escape hit upon by the convict intellect was simply this. Three men being together, lots were drawn to determine whom should be murdered. The drawer of the longest straw was the “lucky” man. He was killed. The drawer of the next longest straw was the murderer. He was hanged. The unlucky one was the witness. He had, of course, an excellent chance of being hung also, but his doom was not so certain, and he therefore looked upon himself as unfortunate.