Your cousin,
L.”
“Here is deliverance!” was Carlos’ first thought.
Yet he was puzzled greatly. Although the note was signed “Your Cousin L,” the handwriting bore no resemblance to that of Leonard. And he was at a loss to conceive how Leonard, if he was a prisoner, could concoct this plan and supply him with the materials for carrying it out.
While inwardly debating, another thought struck him.
Would not an attempt to escape, whether it succeeded or failed, be regarded as an evidence of guilt? If he met the trial quietly and fearlessly, would it not go far toward convincing people of his innocence? But then he thoughtof the wide-spread sentiment against him, of the strong array of evidence, and of the dreary confinement in jail that must ensue before the trial.
Suddenly, while conflicting arguments were flitting through his brain, the engine pealed forth its whistle.
Now or never!
With sudden impulse he tore the oil-silk bag open. The odor of chloroform arose. Looking quickly around the car, and seeing that no observant eye was upon him, he applied the sponge to his companion’s face.
The officer gave a little convulsive twitch, but Carlos held the sponge tighter, and he was immediately quiet, and quickly lapsed into unconsciousness.