“Not they. Theodore knows very well that I am not mad. He knows that I have too much mind to attempt suicide. As to the warders, they are strong, their clothes are impenetrable to an ordinary stab. Besides, I feign to be harmless, and at last worn out.”
“There is no poker in my room,” said Aymer, “and they have taken the knives away.”
“That is because, as yet, they do not know your temperament. They think they know mine. So far as conveniences, and even luxuries, are concerned, certainly Theodore does not treat me amiss. I have everything I could have if I were free—papers, books—everything but tools or liberty—but I can improvise tools.”
“How is it they do not discover this hole in the wall?”
“Simply because on your side it is hidden by the picture, and behind the picture I have preserved the papering. On my side, it is hidden by a mirror; when I open the aperture, I unscrew the mirror.”
“But how did you know there was a picture on this side?”
“A person who was confined as you are told me.”
“Was he sane then? What became of him?”
“Don’t ask me. He was sane. It was a terrible disappointment when he went.”
“But did he not return to get you out?”